#I spent like forever trying to mail down one idea

[cobaltperun]

Lost (19) - Where I belong

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 4.1k

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-So take my slow beating heart, you are where I belong-

You stood in front of two gravestones, feeling ashamed that it took you this long to come here. “Sorry I’m late, I didn’t bring anything, didn’t feel like I deserved to,” you still knelt down to pull some grass that began growing around the two graves. No one really attended to them, they had no one, after all. In this huge city Susan’s life stopped when she lost Zack, and she no longer had anyone that might take care of the graves, no close friend, no family. She only had her memories and, ever since you brought Tara and Sam to Sacramento, she had you and Tara. “Tara would have come as well, but, I have to deal with someone, I didn’t want to put her in danger or leave her alone here,” you explained, remembering the resigned acceptance on Tara’s face when you told her what your plan was.

“Thomas… he brought up something, he said you were the only one who would choose me over anyone else,” you said, digging your hands into the pockets of your coat, it was getting a bit cold, and a strong wind blew in your face, forcing you to squint a bit. “I’ve been thinking about that. Somewhat. Would I have acted any differently last year if I knew you’d be in danger?” you didn’t have the answer. On one side you knew you cared about Susan even back then, simply because of the time you spent with her and Zack and, more importantly, because she was Zack’s mother. On the other side Tara was in danger.

“What-ifs are pointless anyway,” you spoke. It was a stupid question, a one or the other question where you’d be forced to choose. How ridiculous. Life wasn’t as simple as that. Take last year for example. At first glance it was a choice between Tara and Susan, but you did have the third option, San Francisco, where your gym at the time was. Or simply a hotel, if that didn’t work, if you knew you’d be putting Susan in danger you simply would have taken Tara somewhere else. Hell, just taking her to your apartment would have been a good way to keep her safe.

You still felt like you caused her death, even if you kept telling Tara and Sam they weren’t to blame for what happened you somehow failed to take your own advice. No wonder those two had such deep issues. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this, for not being there when you needed me,” you said as several tears slid down your cheeks. “I should have told you so many things,” you told her you loved her in a voice mail sent long after she was dead. Life had a funny way of being cruel sometimes and you would forever regret not telling Susan you loved her, she deserved to hear it every time you talked to her, every time you saw her, every time you had the chance, you should have told her those three words.

~X~

The house hasn't changed much since you turned eighteen, you saw they changed the doors, but other than that, it was exactly how you remembered it, at least from the outside. A three-story house that screamed 'we're rich!' to anyone passing by, with its over-the-top fence and decorations, and the damn marble lions looking down on whoever went through their gate.

You typed in the code, your father's birthday, disabling the locks on the first try. Of course, those two wouldn't bother to change it. You were just happy you managed to remember it. And so, you came inside the house and sat down in the living room, waiting for the parents to come back home. You looked around, the house was the same on the outside but on the inside? Brand new furniture. More expensive than comfortable, really, but you just closed your eyes and waited. If you looked at it for too long you were worried you'd start breaking things.

An hour later the doors opened, and you heard your parents laughing, joking about whatever they found funny that day. This was one of the reasons you felt so suffocated in this house, because, almost as if to convince you that you were the problem and not them, they were loving to one another. Laughing, singing praises of one another, exchanging words of affirmation, but never quite choosing to express their feelings through touches. Now that you thought about it maybe that was why you were so adamant about having Tara in your arms as often as you could, why touch was your preferred love language for her specifically. The instinctual need to be the opposite of your parents in as many ways as you could be.

"Long time no see," you enjoyed seeing them jump when they saw you, they looked like they saw a ghost, they looked afraid. Good, you wanted them to be afraid, you wanted them to have nightmares of you coming after them. "I'd say it's a pleasure to be here again, but we both know it's not."

"Y/N," your father spoke, and you saw him taking a step back. Funny how you never noticed just how little it took to startle him. He would have been less than average if he wasn't born into money, in fact, from what you read in Gale's brief research on the company it was in decline for years now, only surviving on old reputation and questionable deals. The fact that you and Zack were his children pissed you off.

"Let's be quick about this. Thomas is dead, I'm very much alive despite your efforts and I want to be left alone, so don't try to hire another hitman to kill me or my loved ones," you spoke evenly.

"Or else what?" he acted like he actually could negotiate anything here.

You stood up, and while you lost some muscle due to coma and slow recovery you could still look intimidating enough. "I die and your entire reputation is done for. I revealed everything, one wrong move and it all goes public," you saw fear in their eyes as you walked past them. For good measure, you stopped at the front door and turned to glare at them. "Six people came after me, one way or another, all six are dead and I don't mind adding a few more to that list. I'd just prefer not to dirty my hands with your blood unless I have to," you left no doubt that you would if needed. “I don’t care what your reasons are, just try to touch Tara, or anyone else I care about, just try to interfere in any way, and I will not stop until everything you ever created was gone. Your company, this house, any property you have, your reputation, and then your lives, there won’t be anything left.”

You wanted revenge for what happened to Susan, but you couldn't prove they hired Thomas.

So, this would have to do, unless they tried again. So, you left the house, slamming the doors behind you and hoping you would never have to hear or see them again.

~X~

You wouldn’t stick around Woodsboro for long, but you did drop by your former bosses to grab a bite and see how they were doing. The old couple did so much for you, renting that small apartment, giving you a job, they deserved your gratitude, but given what happened to Susan, you were cautious, afraid that being associated with you could cause them harm. Still, they were happy to see you, and you were just as happy to hear they were doing well. It was a busy day at the restaurant, and you were glad their business was doing so well, but it also meant they didn’t have time to chat, which was more than okay with you.

While you waited for your meal you went and called Tara, and she answered withing three seconds, which frankly didn’t surprise you.

“Y/N?” you could hear the worry in her voice.

“Hey, I’m fine, they won’t bother us again, they know what’s at stake for them,” you told her, easing her worries as quickly as you could.

You heard Tara sighing in relief and smiled a bit. “Thank goodness! I was losing my mind over here!”

“I’m okay, Love,” you assured her softly, your tone the complete opposite of her panicking, worry filled voice, even now that she heard you were okay.

“When are you coming back?” she asked, and you could imagine her fidgeting in your shirt with Sam trying to calm her down.

You looked around, no one was paying attention to you from what you could see. “I have the flight back in the morning, I’ll head back to Sacramento in an hour and spend the night in the hotel,” you told her, though you kept your voice low just in case. Were there reasons to be worried? Probably not, but you weren’t in top shape, you couldn’t fight that well right now.

“Okay, stay safe, please. I love you, Y/N,” Tara sent you a kiss through the phone and you smiled like a fool.

“I will, I love you too, Tara,” you replied.

“I see you and Tara are still going strong, not that I ever doubted you two,” you heard your former boss say as she brought you the food you ordered.

“Yeah!” you grinned at her.

~X~

Tara was waiting for you at the airport, she even let Sam drive your car because she knew you'd lose your mind over her driving it while you weren’t with her. She couldn't wipe the smile off her face, you called her after you left your parents' house, reassuring her you were perfectly fine and that you'd be on the first flight home. She was still worried, but she trusted you completely. You’d be fine, you knew how to take care of yourself.

Tara still couldn't quite wrap her head around the fact that your parents were involved. Her mother was definitely not a good parent, but as bad as she was, Tara doubted she would hire someone to kill her or Sam. Thomas' words came to her mind and her smile fell. Suddenly she felt vulnerable, surrounded by people she didn’t know. Everything around her felt too loud, too intense, there were too many people, and any one of them could put her and the people she loved in danger. She couldn’t live like that, she couldn’t constantly worry that she would somehow end up in the situation Thomas described. She had to move on, to the best of her abilities, and without parties and alcohol this time. The therapy was helping her, but more than that it was her desire to be as happy as she could be with you that pushed her to get even better. You’d be back home soon, and that thought helped her handle the bustling crowd a bit easier.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked her and placed an arm around her shoulders to comfort her.

Tara wanted to talk to Sam about it, but how could she? How could she say to her sister that she'd feel immeasurable guilt if she had to choose her instead of you? Prior to what happened at the bodega and especially before what happened at the theatre, she would say she'd never have to make that choice. You were strong. So, so incredibly strong, the idea of anyone actually being able to beat you felt unfathomable.

Yes, you technically were beaten when you first fought Amber and Richie, but that was because she was taken hostage and you still managed to get back on your feet and take her to safety. Stabs and bullet wounds, they couldn't stop you. A heart attack couldn't stop you. Even when you were hurt you could keep going, as you have proven time and time again.

When Tara thought of strength, she thought of you. To imagine a situation in which your life relied on her choice was almost impossible. To then add Sam being in a similar situation, and to further all that by saying Tara could only save one of you. It was beyond the realms of possibility to her.

But then you nearly died. Then it took you sixteen days to wake up and several days to even get up. You managed to lift her up off the ground right before you left New York, two days ago, and you struggled. You struggled to lift Tara up. You never struggled to do that, and Tara actually lost some weight since you nearly died. She just found it difficult to eat while you were in a coma, and she was yet to regain the weight she lost.

The image of an invisible MMA fighter was shattered and now Tara woke up, screaming and covered in cold sweat, from yet another nightmare that had you in that ambulance with doctors saying they couldn't stop your bleeding. That they were losing you. More often than not, when she would wake up like that you'd sit up and hug her right away and she could see in your eyes that you were awake long before she'd wake up. She still didn't know if you were having nightmares or if you couldn't sleep to begin with.

So, no. She couldn't say any of this to Sam. "Sorry, I was just thinking," she apologized to Sam, clamming up and refusing to talk. She still leaned to the side and returned the one-armed hug.

Tara noticed you immediately, even among the huge crowd she somehow always easily found you. And from the way you were already heading toward her, she knew it was the same way for you. She ran into your arms and despite some hesitation on her part, she didn't resist when you lifted her up, just a bit easier than when you left. "I don't think we need to worry about those two again," you muttered into her neck, once again reassuring her that everything would be fine in the future as you slowly set her back down.

"Mhm," Tara just relaxed, carefully remembering every detail of your hugs. She basked in the warmth of your touch through one of your shirts she had on. Your scent, your breath against her exposed neck, the firm grip on her waist it was all you and she loved it.

When she separated from you Sam took her opportunity and hugged you as well. "Welcome back," she said, prompting you to smile.

"It's good to be back," you said, and Tara understood you weren't talking just about coming back from Woodsboro. You were still rather thankful for waking up from a coma without any lasting effects on your health. "How's the apartment hunting going, by the way?" you asked.

"We found one, we like it, we think you'll like it as well," Sam said.

Tara, not wanting to leave your side for even a moment now that you were away from her for two days, took your hand and pulled you along.

~X~

By the end of the week, you moved into your new apartment. It had three bedrooms, once again you chose to have one bedroom for the nights someone from your group chose to stay over. It was a bit bare, without much of a personal touch, and you were sure Tara would take it upon herself to change that about it as soon as she got time for that.

You thought the new apartment would chase away the nightmares, at least until you got used to it, but it didn't. Not eve Tara right next to you managed to chase the nightmares away.

You saw them, sitting in Susan’s living room, looking healthy, alive, happy. That’s how it always started, you’d enter the house and see Susan and Zack just like that. And then, as if you were an intruder that interrupted their lives, they’d turn to you and they’d change. They’d morph from how you remembered them into twisted abominations, rotting and carved up and enraged.

And every time Zack would attack you, pushing you back and doing his signature spinning back kick, the move he taught you, the move you adopted as your own signature during your career. It would always send you hitting the wall, and making his gloves fall from it to the floor, and they’d always roll over into your view. He’d then put you in a chokehold, and even if you wanted to you just wouldn’t move.

“Why?! Why did you let my mom die Y/N?!” he would demand again and again, and you’d look up to see the disappointment in Susan’s eyes.

“You killed me, if it wasn’t for you I’d still be alive,” she’d tell you.

You didn’t beg for forgiveness, or to be let go, not anymore. You’d just wake up when his chokehold would make you pass out, covered in cold sweat and breathing heavily.

You couldn't sit up though, instinctively choosing not to wake Tara up, so at least there was that. She had her own nightmares to deal with and soon enough, perhaps twenty minutes after you woke up Tara woke up as well, screaming. So, you immediately pulled her into a hug, her inhaler at ready in case she needed it.

Tara crawled onto your lap and pressed her face against the crook of your neck. "What are you dreaming about?" she asked, almost sounding afraid. In fact, she probably was afraid to ask that questions.

"Susan and Zack, blaming me for Susan's death," you admitted and Tara just hugged you tighter.

"It wasn't your fault. It's none of our fault lunatics want to hurt us," she said, repeating your words right back at you, and you nodded. Reasonably, you knew that, but it would still take a while to have a peaceful sleep.

"What about you?" you asked as you slowly played with a few strands of Tara's hair.

"I have nightmares of you in the ambulance, only you don't wake up this time, you die, I lose you," you felt a tear landing on the skin of your neck and gently kissed the top of Tara's head.

"I'm awake, Love, I heard your voice," even when you were in a coma you were vaguely aware of Tara always being by your side, and when you were ready to wake up it was her voice and touch that sped it up.

Tara pulled away slightly. "About what Thomas said," she began, but you pressed a finger against her mouth.

"It doesn't matter. It'll never happen. The situation will never be so dire," you said firmly, you couldn’t let her get stuck in those thoughts, Tara already had enough to deal with without Thomas’ words fucking with her head. “I will never let anyone force that choice on you!" you promised, and you'd keep that promise as long as you were alive.

Tara took a deep breath to calm down. “I know it’s an unlikely scenario, but still,” she muttered. “I can’t stand the idea of choosing between you and Sam. It feels like I’d give anything up for Sam, other than you, and the same goes the other way around,” she told you, shivering due to the cold. It was December after all.

“I’d scold you if it was any different,” you told her, you didn’t want Tara to ever again go through losing Sam. That was one thing you were absolutely certain of. No matter the cost, you would keep your family whole and that included Sam. You lost Susan, you never wanted to lose anyone else you loved in such a violent way.

Tara nodded. “I know, I’m counting on you to do that,” she managed to smile a bit before kissing you softly and you gently returned the kiss. It took some time, but you were both slowly getting better and talking about your trauma instead of bottling it up.

~X~

A week later you finally settled into your new apartment, and Sam was finally fine with leaving you two alone to go on a, preferably long, date with Danny. He really came through for all of you, bringing the police and paramedics to the theatre, not to mention finding you, which probably saved your life. He mentioned he heard a loud thud and went to check, hoping it was nothing, but there you were, bleeding out next to dead Thomas. So, as far as you and Tara were concerned, he was clear to move in whenever Sam decided she wanted to take that step.

You just stepped out of the shower after a workout, which actually went really well. You finally felt confident enough to get up with Tara in your arms, to carry her whenever she wanted you to, plain and simple you were doing much better now that you were building your strength back up. Your eyes still glanced down at the scar from the rebar when you stepped in front of the mirror. It came in through your lower back and went diagonally, exiting your body just beneath your chest and it was nothing short of a miracle that nothing important was damaged and that only the scar remained. Sighing, you grabbed your clothes and put them on, a comfortable shirt that was a bit loose on you now, since you still haven’t regained all your muscles, and tracksuit pants since you wanted to just relax with Tara.

The moment you entered your and Tara's bedroom she threw her arms around you and pulled you into a kiss. She clutched the back of your shirt and ran her fingers through your hair, tugging gently as she deepened the kiss. You wrapped your arms around her and pulled her as close to you as physically possible.

"So needy," you chuckled when she pulled back for a moment.

"Like you aren't?" she challenged, looking fiercely into your eyes.

"Mhm, I definitely am," it's been too long, way too long since you could just relax and make love to one another. You leaned down, kissing her neck.

"Baby," she moaned when you nipped at the side of her neck and you immediately pulled back, looking at her wide-eyed. Tara blushed but kept looking at you. "Baby, please," she said again, acting as if she never stopped saying that word all the while gently caressing the back of your neck.

There was a reason Amber chose to persistently call Tara 'baby', specifically, you were the reason because Tara would call you like that jokingly whenever you weren't immediately giving in to her demands. She stopped when she got together with Amber and just never went back to calling you like that.

"Say it again," you demanded, lifting her up, taking a few steps to the side and pushing her against the wall.

"Baby," she moaned into your ear as you unbuttoned the top buttons of her, previously your, button-up shirt and yanked it down, and since it was way too big for her it just fell from her shoulders.

"Again, Love," every time she said it you were more and more certain she would be able to completely get over what Amber did to her, that she'd eventually fully heal.

"Baby!" she cried out, maybe even a bit too loudly as you began kissing her bare shoulders and tugging the straps of her bra down.

"You are where I belong Tara," you pulled back, pressing your forehead against hers. She quickly captured your lips, making you both get lost in the passion. When you separated to catch your breath you looked her in the eyes.

It was a demand fueled by lust and desire and need for Tara, all fueled by the love you had for her. Nonetheless, you doubted you ever demanded anything with as much conviction and seriousness. "Spend the rest of your life with me. Marry me," you'd go through all the proper proposal stuff at a more appropriate time, but you couldn't stop yourself from blurting it out.

Tara looked at you just for a moment. Taking the demand in. "Thought you'd never ask," she smiled and kissed you one more time. The pent-up needs, desires and all the emotions, you’d satisfy them all, getting lost in one another until there was nothing else left in to world but you two and your love for one another.

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

[subwaytostardew]

Update: One year on the tracks!

It's been a year (and a week) since we first started working on this mod! April 25th is when I first started working on this project! Terrible timing since that's literally the day before my birthday and I'm too busy to make anniversary updates the day of. Thank you everyone following this mod despite how slow we chug along!

If you see the first ever post Thylak did over on his main - you will just see my little comments discovering his work and instantly being like

*Fast excited ADHD typing* I GOT IDEAS.

Rest is history....

We've been hard at work trying to get the mod complete enough for a (still unfinished...) release! It won't have everything we have planned (marriage events, Elesa events, platonic route, roommateable Cilan, etc.) because it would take forever otherwise (we keep getting ideas for additions...)

So many ideas. Sometimes we have to dial it back...... The amount of times events had to be cut down for concision... and we still struggle to keep them under 8 minutes...

1.6 broke a lot, so sorry for the delay in updates! (WHY CA WHY!) We've been having to do a lot of backtracking and behind-the-scenes work. (SO MUCH BACKTRACKING) Pretty much every event broke. I have to resprite all the portraits to match the vanilla-size because HD Portraits is still not updated. The schedules need fixing.

But despite all of that, the station bundles are done! We also redid the house exterior for submas because it was ugly. I did not know how to do pixel art a year ago. Nor did I know how to decorate maps. They have a whole new area off to the side of the Railroad now!

We hot potatoed that map so much. First Thylak would work on it. Then I did. Then back to him...

Still need to get around to adjusting their schedules to switch their coordinates to the new map when they're working on the Railroad. Previously, they were just pacing around in the various empty areas of the Railroad. Now they have trains.

The house itself was actually two different structures with a seperate clock tower but then we decided it looked better overlapping the bit of roof peeking out. It's much less flat now.

Submas have a mailbox that adheres to Stardew's perspective.

No longer is the house a cardboard cut out with shading and lighting. LOL (I didn't know how to sprite buildings!!! I put all my effort into Emmet's walk cycle!)

Also speaking of mail boxes... since it been a year; I'm sure all ya'll are curious to how we do our modding, story, etc. We encourage you to hit the mail car button and ask away (so many of you already have) But since it's been a year. Go Crazy.

But I will nip the common asks tho.

Some Common Asks.

"Is this mod SVE (Stardew Valley Expanded) Compatible?"

No.... Unfortunately due to the complexity of both mods. (Ours due to railroad being used. And SVE already expanding on a bunch of stuff) It will just be compatible with vanilla and any mods that does not replace or edit the railroad (majorly).

We did move submas's house over to the side so it won't overlap the farm it adds or impede any space that you want to use the Railroad's empty spots of land for, but it's still very much a "play at your own risk" type of thing. I'm not familiar enough with SVE to code compatibility for it (not familiar at all actually... I don't play the game enough! All my time is spent working on the mod! All I do is stare at google docs and type walls of text! I'm not interested in SVE anyways for personal reasons.)

SVE is infamous in the modding scene since it changes pretty much every map and steps on other mods with incompatibility. I don't want to deal with making two seperate events with the coordinates/movements edited for compatibility. It should be compatible with most other expansion mods like Ridgeside Village or East Scarp since they mostly keep to their seperate areas and not edit things unless necessary (like submas do now)! SVE changes too much to gurantee compatibility and for the sake of my sanity I won't provide it. If it works, great. If it doesn't, pick and choose for that save.

So.. SVE and our mod. Incompatible....

"Release Date?"

Unfortunately it is still undetermined! (Due to our busy schedules.)

(For example - I myself work 2 jobs and currently going through a lot of chaotic life stressors.....)

However, we will make a progress post soon about how much left on our list where we are satisfied with moving onto the next stage of our mod which is.

There's actually not much new content planned until we're ready for initial release, we mostly have a lot of behind the scenes cleanup and backtracking. I still have portraits to do (I took a break... switched off to mapping). Event-wise I want Emmet's 10 heart event to be done and a few station/side events we have in the drafts. We'll need more festival dialogue (since... they don't show up unless if I have stuff for year two for some reason). After that, we get into more fun stuff! Patches!

PATCHES! Oh we love a good mod patch! And we have a lot planned. Meaning there's still more ahead on the tracks!

"Are they romancable?"

Yes. Yes they are. HOWEVER! WE DO SEE YOU AROACE COMMUNITY! And we will be making a route that will be planned in the next comming phase to make them platonic relations as well!

It's the first stop on our intinerary! We'll release the platonic route alongside the marriage event update so there's something for everyone.

We are just following vanilla format at the moment as it is easier coding wise. And also a good place to start planning where the branches are going to happen. Making roomates is a bit more complex... I have to make a custom item for "proposal" much like the void pendant.

I think that covers the common asks... OH!

Also! Since we have released the Joltik Adoption aspect as a separate mod as well as a little fun tease (And test run) - before we actually drop Subway to Stardew. So sorry the event didn't work at first! I was testing on the main expansion mod. Should be fixed now!

We recommended that if you find any JOLTIKS. Scurrying around. Causing trouble. (Aka Bugs.) Please send in an ask! Or head over to Nexus to drop a bug report! It will help iron out some things that we may not be aware about before release!

And when we do release we HIGHLY encourage the bug reports cause it's just two of us... <_< and those Joltiks get into everything! (Doesn't help that THYLAK KEEPS THROWING THEM EVERYWHERE! I find them in my paperwork... and Atwood's bedding.... My poor Phantump. He can't catch a wink without a Joltik scurrying all over the place!)

It's just me doing all the coding (All. Of. It.) so I hope you all can continue to be patient while I work on things! Sorry if I miss some things! We probably won't playtest too extensively before the initial release, so please do report any bugs you find then!

▷ Station Steward Thylak

[undinegeist]

It’s summer, warm, and we spend all our days by the pool; in a villa in a cow-riddled village, affordable because my so-called father is friends with the professor, a cultured one, cultured enough to not judge us, two gutter punks straight out of hell, Sid not that much more than me by then, between the lack of food and excess of drugs.

They take care of us like family; drag us out of our beds to the beach no matter how late our nights were, their son, only slightly younger than us, starts teaching Sid more songs on the guitar, actually succeeding through patience and endurance alone…we have breakfast, lunch, dinner, unheard of for us, used to only one meal a day, two if we got lucky.

Sid starts thickening up, less than total stick, and so do I; we tan, become normal, gradually, until we’re helping around the house, picking fruit, working through mail, earning our keep until we don’t pay at all…we share a bed, and it’s not weird, never weird.

His hair is longer, less spiky, mine’s bleached where I haven’t dyed it, the true color showing as it grows out, down to my shoulders…

We’re in bed one morning, when I wake to him playing with it…winding it around his finger, fingertips brushing over my skin, distracting.

“I like it now that it’s long,” his voice is a whisper, he knows I’m awake.

I stroke his arm, relax into him. “I like yours, too.”

“Would it be so bad for us to become…normal?”

“It doesn’t matter what we are anymore…no one’s watching.”

“I think sometimes I wish they were…but then I remember how hard it was to keep up the front, to…to pretend I hated everyone when mostly I just hated what we were. I don’t hate anything here, they care about us. I’ve never…outside of you and maybe Johnny, I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone care before.”

“It never felt like enough for me either. It isn’t enough for people to care…they have to care the right way, to really love you…it’s fucked, I don’t know how we got it right.”

“It’s because we’ve always loved each other.”

“I don’t know that I loved you the night we met.”

“That’s okay, I can’t even remember the night we met…”

We laugh, hold each other, and it feels so nice, impossibly nice.

“How did we meet?“

It was raining, it was summer.

“I was in London because I had nothing better to do…there was a play on at this place by the river, but the rain caught me on the way, under the awning of a pub…you were there, cursing, I had no idea why, except you were wetter than me…it could have ended there, I was thinking of just going the rest of the way, but you grabbed my arm, said I was gonna fry.”

“You said you didn’t care…that you liked to fuck with lightning. That’s when I knew you were my kind of person…”

“That, and I spent all night watching Nancy try to fuck Johnny for your sake…”

He laughs, though I’d been scared to mention her. “She did, didn’t she? I’d kind of forgot that…”

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

He shrugs. “No…I would have slept with you then if I could.”

“Why didn’t you try?”

“Try what?”

“To sleep with me.”

“I don’t know…I thought about it, but it was cold and raining too much and it was nice to just hold you. Besides…I thought you’d say no.”

“I might have said yes.”

“Just to get out of wet clothes?”

“Among other things.”

“Such as?”

“I liked your chest.”

“Do you like it now?” His voice is quieter; he shrinks, trying for invisibility, but I see him too well.

“I’ll always like it.” I hate the look in his eyes more than anything, more than I could ever hate the things we did to ourselves.

“I messed it all up.”

“Have you seen my arms?”

“Yeah, but that’s…that’s different. Yours are pretty, yours are fading. Mine will be branded forever, I won’t be able to take my shirt off anywhere that isn’t here…”

“Fuck what anyone thinks, Sid. Fuck them. We’ve let them lead us by the nose too long…it’s our turn now, to do whatever we want to, even if it makes them uncomfortable, because it makes them uncomfortable…this time, we do it for ourselves. Not for McLaren or anybody else.” I run my fingers over them, faint white lines. “I like them.”

“You couldn’t possibly.”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“No.” He doesn’t hesitate; it makes me feel strange, even if it’s true.

“Then trust me.”

He nods, bites his lip, hugs me.

I pull back, and somehow I’m kissing the scars on his chest, until I’m biting his neck, the two of us wrestling all over the bed until our clothes are gone, barely anything…it happens so fast, so easy, I can barely believe he gets me off, a mixture of penetration and fingers, our bodies getting stickier…we come almost at once, he takes me the rest of the way, wraps an arm around me, rests his cheek over my head, my fingers around his dick.

“We need to get, you know…rubbers. If…if we ever go all the way.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, turn it into a reason to kiss him, rolling all the way over…he gets hard, right away, again; we’re still naked, will always be naked, I squeeze to finish him off…he slips his fingers inside me, asks if it’s good, though he knows how to do it, doesn’t have to.

We lie there, messy, fingers sticky with each other, his cheek resting on my chest…it feels the way it did when I sat with him in the hospital, back when we hadn’t been close…I’d never touch people, not even when I wanted to; it felt strange, unusual, threatening. But it was different with him from the first…the night we met we ended up at a booth, and he was so open and innocent, it wasn’t strange…I knew I could trust him, finally, finally knew there was someone out there I could trust enough to touch without fearing rejection. And now, we had forever.

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary126

1/18-19/2024

thursday - friday

should sleep soon.

the interview went very well i think. the guy seemed to like me and not care about anything. it seems like at this pizza place that is basically a pseudo chuck-e-cheese (i'm such a winner in life) i'll be working in the arcade area. i'm so freddy , i'm so fazbear.

i've gotta do a drug test and stuff. i'll ace that cuz i'm #straightedge. it's really easy for me to not do drugs, generally, or i guess i never have, so i don't really have the urge. i don't think i'm missing out on a lot, i don't even drink, some people find that very weird though.

i also spent all of today out with my gf and her mom, which was fun, we went to this cafe that's closing forever soon, it's really sweet, the place had a thing where you could write yourself a postcard and mail it to yourself, months in the future, a kind of time capsule-ish thing. the woman there told us that her dog just had puppies, and that she saw on her home camera, and had to close up shop to go help her dog, and then come back, and this was still happening, one puppy left inside the womb, still coming. she was very sad it seemed like, she said no one wanted to buy the business to someone on the phone, so they were just selling everything, all the stock, so my gf and i got some postcards, and some stickers, and other stuff. i'll post the postcards i got tomorrow but i just really like the box.

my gf got some sanrio ones, i should maybe get pix of those too.

today before the interview, while i was alone at home, i was just reading wiseblood by flannery o'conner, she's such a great writer, makes me want to write something fast/messy in that way again, i think that will filter down to music some way though. her approach to these overripe and grotesque distensions of reality, where everyone is haunted in excess, where we all know that as real and the exaggeration on lays bare what we use reason/social norms to displace. there is a part early on where you are watching a character stare through a window at a knee, fat and white, disembodied almost, just that one image through the window, this peeping tom preacher-but-not-a-preacher. there is a lot to say about it, flannery herself said she never gave up catholicism because she was forever haunted by it, the protagonist is similar, the guilt in him is infinite and inescapable, he is wrestling not with disbelief in god, but the impossibility of not believing in god. it is too base an assumption in his world, that jesus died for him, he's always trying to refute it, but it turns around on him always.

anyway, re: the job, the next thing is on monday at 3 pm.

re: music, i messed w/ the problem song, but tomorrow i'm just not gonna, i'm gonna try and get other stuff mixed better, and then when it's finally time to do another full listen i'll take my notes again and see, honest this time. i was listening to the locust and it just made me feel like i grasped something, idk, i don't know if i did really but that band always gives me ideas about how i should sound, they were so perfect, like an actual diamond in music, perfectly formed, geometric and strange, off in a cave unseen, crystalline growth out of waste, excess of time/life, gravestone clusters.

i am tired now thoo i hope i didn't fuck my sleep up or whatever. i have to be ready for monday

byebye!!!!!!!!!

[sayorseee]

Hi friend! Could you do Protective!Zed? 👀

He blamed himself, really.

He’d gone and watched, ignoring the uneasy turning of his gut. A mistake, really.

She hits the gym floor hard, a sickening crack that he’ll replay in his head forever.

He shouldn’t have let her go off like that. So if he keeps an extra eye on her, dotting over her all day and night and making sure her every need is met until her leg heals. Well you can’t really blame him.

Zed doesn’t even let their dog into the couch, even though Zoey assured him she’s fine and would love to play with her dog.

“You could get more hurt!”

“I won’t break a bone cuddling my little fluff ball!” Zoey argues.

Zed frowns, though his sister is persistent. “Fine, but five minutes. Puppy doesn’t understand you’re hurt!”

Zoey rolls her eyes, though her annoyed look is quickly replaced with the sweetest smile as she pats her legs, urging puppy to climb onto her lap.

“I don’t think you understand that I’m fine.”

Zed shrugs. “Need more juice?”

“No.”

“Want another snack?”

Zoey looks up from her puppy play, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “You’re gonna make me super fat! How will I ever fly again?”

“You are never flying again, Zoe.”

[spiderrrling]

With Love, Eddie Munson (Eddie Munson x F!Reader)

Summary - It’s been about six months since she went off to college when a very unexpected letter comes in the mail from an old friend

Word count  - 1.6k

Warnings - None, just a lot of bitter sweetness 

A/N - So I had this idea at work earlier, and when I started writing it all the words just started flowing out so here ya’ll have it, two fics in a day!!

You can find part to this on my masterlist! It's called "My Dearest Eddie Munson"

Masterlist - Tag list

She wasn’t used to receiving mail, sure her family would sometimes mail her a couple of pictures here and there, or her mother would send her a letter.

But this was different, the envelope was thick and the front was warped with messy handwriting. Handwriting she had once joked only she could decipher.

A pit of anxiety and excitement started forming in her stomach as she let her fingers trace the letters that formed her name and address. Her name. He’d written her name.

She turned the letter over, hesitating for a moment before she tore it open, not bothering to care if she tore it, she was desperate to know what he had written.

Several a proper stack of papers were shoved into the little envelope, along with a pile of Polaroids which spilled out. Her heart skipped a beat as she was looking over the glossy photos of the small town she had left what seemed like forever ago. But the pictures brought her right back to those lazy spring days, and busy days in run down hallways.

Evenings spent tucked away in the back of Hawkins High theatre department playing dungeons and dragons. Weekends spent out in Eddie’s bedroom listening to him playing guitar for hours on end while she did homework or read.

Faded memories that were still burned into her mind and came flooding back as she looked at the pictures.

Hey there, bet you weren’t expecting to receive a letter from yours truly today, but what can I say? I am full of surprises.

You’ll never guess where I am sitting while I write you this letter. Or maybe you would, you always were the smart one, hence why you graduated and moved on, and I didn’t. Anyhow, I’m sitting in the back of my van parked out by the small creek that runs out into Lovers Lake. We used to come here a lot together.

I used to come out here to think, because it seemed so far away from the rest of Hawkins. And let’s be honest, it's beautiful out here. That's why I brought you out here for the first time, I wanted for it to just be the two of us. Where nothing else mattered.

I still come out here from time to time, but it’s just not the same anymore. I don’t have you beside me in the car carefully trying to select the perfect mixtape for our tiny get away adventure. And I don’t have you with me as we sit in the back of my van until the sun goes down and the stars come out.

You once sat beside me and told me about the stars. You helped show me the different constellations that reside over us at night. But if I’m being honest with you, I didn’t pay attention. How could I when you were holding my hand to guide me through the night sky. You looked so beautiful in the dim night lighting, with that extra sparkle you always got in your eye when you lost yourself to your thoughts.

Anyhow, how have I been you’re probably wondering at this point. Well, as resident King of the Freaks (self proclaimed, accepted by the masses) I am leading our newest freshmen recruits through their first official Hellfire campaign. They have a long way to go, but they have some potential.

Life at home is… well the same. Wayne still works his night shifts at the factory plant. He has been picking up some extra shifts but he is still good old Wayne Munson.

He asks about you though, and wonders how you’ve been.

You were home for Christmas just a couple of weeks ago, I saw you with your mom down town doing some last minute shopping. If I knew you were coming I would have invited you around to the Hellfire Christmas Special, we had a great time. But it’s not the same without you.

I didn’t even know you were in town. You never told me you would be.

To be fair, I don’t know much about you these days, we haven’t talked since that day you left. Your little car was packed to the very brim, your entire life was in that car. And I wasn’t in it. Not that I can blame you, I can’t believe you managed to fit in there.

You only left me with the memories of you, and a little note containing your new address.

I promised I would write to you, but I didn’t. Honestly I don’t know why I didn’t. Maybe I was scared that it would feel so different now that you weren’t here anymore. Maybe it was because I knew writing something to you would only make me realise just how empty my life is without you in it.

I’m hurt you didn’t tell me you would be coming back. I miss seeing your stupid face, I miss talking walks with you in the forest behind the trailer park, I miss driving around Hawkins late at night blasting whatever music we could find.

I miss you.

I miss you more than I thought was possible, I miss you more than I realised I ever could.

Life without you here sucks. I never knew just how much space you occupied in my day to day life and in my mind. And I never once stopped to think what kind of vacuum you would create when you left.

It’s like you disappeared, like you forgot everything that was here. And I can’t blame you for not missing it. For not missing this daft little small town in the middle of nowhere Indiana, for wanting to move on from it and leave it all behind. 

I can’t blame you for not missing Ms. O'Donnell’s 8 am classes. The basketball games, the lazy days spent doing nothing, the small little record store with a shit selection, everything. I can’t blame you for not missing me.

I still wish you did though. I wish you missed me the way I miss you. And I don’t want you to leave me behind. It feels like a part of who I am is just gone, there is nothing there anymore.

If I’m being honest with you, I have no idea why I am writing you this letter. And I know I am rambling, because I cannot find the right words to express to you how I feel.

If you were here I’d write you a song, maybe that would make it easier. There is already a whole stack of them, I keep them in a little box beneath my bed along with the photos I have of you, of us. Sometimes I pull them out just to remind myself that you were real, and not just some figment of my imagination I created to make my life better. To remind myself that you were here.

But you’re not here. And I hate it.

It took me longer than it should have to accept that. And to accept the fact that I miss you.

I should have written you a letter the second you left for college. Hell I should have written you a letter and stashed it somewhere in your packing, just for you to find as you were unpacking.

Do you remember that day last spring? The one where we skipped fifth and sixth period because we just couldn’t stand to be in that building anymore. We went by Joanes, and even though she doesn’t make the best coffee she does still make the best pie North of Indiana.

We bought a whole pan and stole two of her forks. And we spent a whole day out in the woods together. Camped out in the back of my van as always, eating pie and sharing whatever gossip had been circulating. I believe the topic of the day was, does Jason Carver dye his hair to be that colour?

It’s only in hindsight I realised how I must have looked at you. To be fair it is only in hindsight I am realising how I must have felt for you. How I am still feeling for you.

My heart used to skip a beat whenever I saw you in the mornings and you’d wave or smile at me. I got excited whenever I got to sit close to you. Whenever I got to touch you. You held my hand with such ease, but for me I felt as if my heart was pounding out of my chest. I was so nervous.

That one time you cut my bangs, I could feel your breath on my neck as you carefully trimmed my hair. You looked at me so much that day I can never forget it. Still the best haircut I have ever gotten.

I took you to prom, I wasn’t your date, I just offered to drive you.

I should have taken you to prom, officially. I should have asked you then because maybe now I wouldn’t be regretting it so much.

If you’re still reading this, congratulations. You’ve just read everything I never had the guts to tell you.

I don’t know if you’ve understood anything I’ve said, but here are all my feelings laid out. And since I know you can be a little bit daft I might need to spell it out to you.

I, Eddie the Freak Munson, am utterly, and hopelessly in love with you. And I wish I had known it sooner.

I hope you’ll be back in Hawkins soon, and I hope I’ll get to see you again.

With love, Eddie Munson

Tag list -  @pastel-abyss-x @fayetheenthusiast @obi-wanakenobi  @starbemo @chloebeansack @a-villain-vying-for-attention @meaganjm​ @xbreezymeadowsx @prettytoxix @magicalxdaydream @emmaginanni @ghoulsgraveyard

Mutuals - @uglypastels​ @naturallytom​ @catastrofhe​

[forever-rogue]

Omg Congrats my beautiful baby!!! So happy for you and its well deserved!!!!

I am going to request with Frankie: prompt list 1, #11 “be my wife” and prompt list 2, #163 “fuck me”

ILY! 💋❤️💋💋

I think its time Frankie got some love 🥺💕🥰

Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader ; warnings: mentions of pregnancy

Frankie Masterlist 

»»————-　♡　————-««

As soon as Frankie walked into the small house you had made into a home, he was hit by the smell of delicious cooking. A smile tugged on his lips as he pulled off his work boots and set them in the small rack you'd placed by the door when you'd moved in. He'd never thought about such a thing before, but once you'd brought it in, he realized how much he liked it. It was just one of the many touches you introduced that made him feel truly at all home. 

As he hung his jacket on the coat rack, he heard you singing softly to Isabella, as much played in the background and you shuffled around the kitchen. He slowly walked in, making sure to make as little noise as possible so he wouldn't interrupt your sweet moment.

His heart instantly melted at the sight, and he could feel a flush of warmth was over him. You had her in the high chair, turned towards you as you worked on dinner and sang to her. She was giggling and cooing at you, waving her little fists around. As you cut a piece of carrot up, you handed one to her before taking another piece and eating it. She followed suit as you praised her, "see, you're so good with your vegetables! You're going to grow up so big and strong, my little love!" 

Frankie's heart melted at the sight of you with his daughter. She might not have been biologically yours, but she was yours in every other sense. You'd met Frankie when she was only a few months old and he had just finalized his divorce. His ex wife wanted nothing to do with him or her and had been more than happy to hand over sole physical and legal custody, even choosing to dispel her visitation rights. Not that Frankie minded; sure, being a single father was hard, but it was better than having her around a parent that couldn't care less.

You'd quickly come into his life, and had fallen in love with him and her like it was nothing. And now she was almost two, and you weren't planning on going anywhere. Frankie and Isabella were your forever. As far as you were both concerned you were her mother - one day he even hoped to make it legal. There was just one little thing he needed to do first, that'd he been dying to do for some time. He just...never could, often getting too lost in the moment.

"Yes, of course," you promised her, almost as if you decipher her question through her mouthful, "we'll tell Daddy tonight! How does that sound?"

Frankie's brows knitted together in question as he wondered what you were possibly talking about. Before he could get too lost in his line of thought, Isabella looked around and spotted him. Her face lit up with excitement as she leaned towards him. Frankie couldn't help himself as he came in and picked her, snuggling her tightly to his chest, "hi Izzy! I've missed you, baby girl!"

"Hello, my love," you grinned at Frankie, pleasantly surprised by his sudden arrival. Everything already felt so much better and livelier now that he was home for the weekend, "I didn't hear you come in."

"I didn't want to interrupt," he put his free arm around your waist as he pulled you close. You grinned before leaning in and kissing him softly. He made a small, contented sound as he beamed at the two of you, "I missed you, Honey Bee. And Baby Bee."

"We missed you too," you promised as Izzy laughed before wrapping her chubby little arms around his neck as best as she could, "little missy has been excited for you to come home all day. Well...so have I. We made your favorites for dinner and dessert!"

"Tell me what I ever did to deserve this," he touched Izzy's cheek gently before giving you another kiss. This was… everything and more than he could have ever dreamed of or believed he deserved. But you constantly reminded him how much you loved him, how good of a man he really was. And for the first time in his life, since you'd been by his side, loving him, supporting him, he believed it.

"Hmm," you mused thoughtfully, "a lot of things. But I have a big favor to ask of you now…"

"Anything."

"Take the Baby Bee here and get yourselves cleaned up for dinner," you gave both your loves a kiss as a flush of pink tinged his cheeks, "it'll be ready soon."

"I can handle that," he agreed as he tickled Izzy's side and she giggled with joy, "alright baby, time to get clean before Mama yells at us both!"

»»————-　♡　————-««

As Frankie cleaned himself and Izzy up, your stomach was in knots as you worked up the courage to tell him your news. You could hear the two of them laughing and giggling upstairs, and you instantly felt better. You were excited about this - and you knew he would be too, but still...it was going to be a huge change.

You plated up the food, making sure to cut Izzy's into smaller pieces before setting the dining room table. Every second that passed had you growing more nervous.

Shit - how were you going to tell him? There were a ton of different ways, and right now none of them seemed quite right. Maybe after dinner, after you'd put her to bed you could tell him.

"Here we are," Frankie exclaimed as he made his reappearance, clean and changed, right along with your daughter. You smiled at them, still finding it hard to believe just how much alike they were. She had his gentle eyes, with those wild, dark curls, and that singular dimple that appeared when she smiled. She was almost a carbon copy of him - especially right now as she supported matching little flannel pajamas to his, "we decided to get comfy already! Do you want to go and change, Honey Bee?"

"I'm okay," you promised as he sat her down in her high chair before pulling out your own chair, "what a gentleman."

"Anything for my girls," he said with a wink as he sat across from you. You nudged his leg gently with your own, offering him that smile that never ceased to make him melt, "how was your day, honey?"

"Nothing too exciting," you swallowed the lump in your throat as you pushed your bite down. You'd been to the doctor that morning, having made an appointment to confirm your suspicions and make sure everything was okay. Naturally, you'd brought Izzy with you as it was your day off and you always spent those days with her. Afterwards you'd taken her for ice cream and a trip to the park to feed the birds before tending to stuff around the house. The whole day was spent trying to figure out how to tell Frankie your news, the grainy black and white photos tucked in with the mail serving as a constant reminder, "just the usual stuff. We went to the park and Izzy fed the birds, huh baby?"

"So many duckies and their babies!" she agreed excitedly as Frankie listened to her try and recount her adventures. Your heart melted as she rambled on, but then… "the babies were so little and yellow. Like Mama's baby! Its like a...kumq...kum.."

Your eyes widened in surprise as she easily spilled the beans without even thinking about it. Of course she had no idea that this was a big secret or she shouldn't say anything...you just hadn't expected her to actually say anything. Frankie laughed lightly at her struggle to name the fruit, watching her little brows furrow in struggle, "kumquat? Is that the one?"

"Yeah," she grinned before scooping up another bite and shoving it into her mouth. Frankie affectionately ruffled her hair before chuckling. You were frozen in horror as he didn't seem to put two and two together, but soon enough it seemed that the gears in his head were grinding away.

"Wait...what do you mean Mama's baby?" he looked between the two of you as Izzy nodded and pointed to your still non-existent bump. A look of confusion crossed Frankie's features as he turned to you, his eyes soft and the corners of his mouth tugging upwards, "Honey Bee...what is she talking about...what's going on?"

"Surprise," you said nervously as you set your fork down, trying to keep your hand from trembling with nerves, "you're going to be a daddy again, Francisco."

"What?" his voice was soft as his chest rose and fell deeply, trying to comprehend the news you had just dropped on him. Your eyes stung with tears, both of joy and nerves, as you molded with a gentle smile, "Bee, are you serious?"

"Yeah," you whispered as a few tears rolled down your cheeks, "we're having a baby, Frankie!"

"Fuck me," his own eyes were glossy as you laughed in amusement before pointing at Izzy who was busy playing with her food, "we're having a baby!"

"Yeah," you stood up and quickly rushed to the mail stack, pulling out the sonograms you had gotten earlier and racing back over to him, eagerly holding them out to him, "I wasn't sure...I thought so and went to the doctor to confirm today. That's our baby, Frankie."

He delicately took the sheet from you and examined them, looking at the small bean that was your baby. His eyes grew misty as he traced over one before looking back at you, "holy shit...we're having a baby."

"I know...its all so surreal," you whispered as he stood up and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug, burying his face in your neck, "I love you, Frankie. I know it wasn't planned or anything...but I'm so happy."

"Me too," he agreed softly, pressing a few kisses to your shoulder, "you have made me the happiest man...you are everything. You, Baby Bee, and now Baby Baby Bee. I couldn't ask for more."

"Frankie, the two of you...well the three of you, are everything I could ever want," you promised as you pulled back and pressed a kiss to his lips, "nothing could be better than our family."

"I love you so much," he beamed at you, "I...I have-"

"Ask Mama! Daddy ask Mama!" Izzy was excitedly grinning at the two of you before making grabby arms. You raised a brow at him before going over to pick her up and bouncing her gently on your hip.

"What was Daddy going to ask?" you asked excitedly as his cheeks flushed a bright red. You reached over and touched his cheek, brushing your thumb over his skin.

"I...umm...I was going to…" he paused for a moment, swallowing nervously before blurting it out, "be my wife? I umm...Honey Bee, will you marry me? Finally...I mean, I know we're basically married already, but I want to make it official."

"You want to marry me?" you looked at him with wide eyes as he nodded fervently, as if saying of course, "yes, a million times yes. Of course I want to marry you. Nothing would make me happier."

"I-I-I have a ring," he stammered as he looked around, quickly dashing to the living room. Izzy giggled as you made a silly face at her, before he returned with a small velvet box. He opened it and displayed the gorgeous ring to you, "will you marry me, Bee?"

"Say yes, Mama!"

"Yes," you grinned at him, "nothing will make me happier than to officially be your wife."

He pulled the ring out and slipped it onto your finger, "perfection. Just like it was meant to be…"

"That's because it was, my love," you kissed him softly, "I love you - our whole little family so much. You are all my everything."

"Yes," he agreed with a gentle sigh, "my always and forever. My Honey Bee, and our Baby Bees. I love you all more than anything."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[myownjadedpieceofmind]

Let's catch up, shall we?

So... sometime Tuesday I came down with a migraine from hell. I attributed it to looking up at the fireworks the night before and working front desk that morning. Well, Wednesday that migraine progressed into a full body flare of every symptom I have. My skin broke out in hives, I couldn't hold down any food or water, every single inch of my skin hurt and my joints literally burned.

I spent all day Wednesday in the hospital due to a kidney infection that put my autoimmune system into hypersensitive setting. I got iv fluids and antibiotics and figured I could just go home and deal with the rest of my issues from there. Honestly, I'm a veteran to the kidney issues, so I generally just self care once I get the antibiotics to kick the crap.

That was the wrong idea. I went back to the hospital that night and was admitted. I got out late yesterday afternoon.

When I came home, I got the mail. A large envelope from social security letting me know I "do not qualify for disability under the definitions of disabled conditions, and there is no reason why I can't find suitable work given my conditions." Weird, because every single thing I've been diagnosed with, and continue getting diagnosed with, are all listed in their qualifying disorders. The disability advocate group that took on my case probono seems to think they can help me out, so it just means i get to wait til we appeal and battle it out. At least I have someone to help, and they aren't trying to stick their hand out for profit.

I had to work this morning. Don't know why when the majority of the morning was spent watching the boss train the new chick how to do morning routines. Oh well, it's $44, and right now, that's a whole lot.

The boyfriend has a problem and we are headed to the cherokee nation hospital where he has coverage to get his shit checked out. It's a hard thing to talk about as a dude, but... he's had a lump on his testicles and has played off like no big deal. Until it became a painful lump, and now it's looking like an emergency surgery to repair some damages. He's done Jiu-jitsu and mma for the last 17 years, at the very least. The amount of damage he's taken to that area, well, it likely contributed to the issue thats going on. Anyway, the local dr didn't want him to waste any time getting this figured out, so, that's what's next.

I'm working tomorrow. My daughter lost her job and smashed her phone in the same day, so her luck is about like mine. I feel so bad for her, but what can I do??? I told her if she could make the drive here, she could have one of my older samsung phones. But, as it is, gas isn't cheap and her car hasn't had an oil change in FOREVER.

If I played the lottery, I'd be praying to get just a tiny chunk of the win, like $6k. Enough so I could pay my bills, stock my fridge, take care of my daughter so she isn't without a phone, pay for my son's gym membership (the best mental health the kid could ask for), get my truck serviced, and maybe buy some new fucking underwear.

The irs owes me around $10k over 3 years in returns. Like... 2 years of the returns were filed late, and I get that they are short staffed. But, how entirely awful is it to know that I've got that kind of money out there, but I can't touch if til the irs deems it worth their time. Imagine the penalties I'd pay if I owed them money for years??

Oh yeah... and since I was in the hospital, the orthopedic dr put off my appointment for another week. I've been sneaking my arm out if the splint from time to time over the last 2 days...my skin couldn't handle the restriction while I was so sick. The nurses that were doing my iv screwed up so bad, I have 9 bruised punctures up and down my arm. They only had the one arm to abuse thanks to the splint. But, I look like hell. I don't even know how I'm gonna dig out of this shithole.

Here's hoping for some good news to roll in. I could use a silver lining.

[innytoes]

Another softish prompt: 29. “I want to see you.” “Come closer.” for Peterpatterlina?

One of the great things about the future, Reggie decided, was the internet. Not only could he get all his rock and roll news with a single click, and watch funny dog videos whenever he wanted, and there was this whole website full of Star Wars fanfiction... but it also had online shopping.

Online shopping meant that as long as you had money, and a way to intercept the mail before anyone else got to it, you could buy anything, and nobody would ever have to know. No judgemental looks about being in the 'wrong' section of the store, no awkward lies at check-out about buying something for your girlfriend. No surreptitious holding things in front of his chest wondering if they'll fit while just pretending to fold them or sneakily darting a hand out to touch the fabric of something while he walked by.

Online shopping was really awesome, especially now that Julie had given the guys their own PayPal accounts and deposited their gig money into it if they wanted to.

The package arrived while everyone else was out. Ray was at a shoot, Julie and Carlos were at school, Alex was out with Willie, and Luke was helping his mom in the garden, doing his best to repair a relationship that had been broken for over twenty-five years. So he had the place all to himself. Being seen by lifers also meant he could thank the delivery person and not have to worry about anyone noticing a weirdly floating package moving from the Molina’s porch.

He took it to the studio bathroom, closing and locking the door even though they still had the ability to phase through walls if they focused. Carefully, he opened up the plastic, shaking out the dress and holding it to his chest. The velvet material was soft in his fingers, the dark red beautiful against his skin.

He quickly shed his clothes, dumping his boots and his belt and shucking off his flannel and shirt and pants. He fiddled with the hem of his black briefs, but decided to keep them on for now. Unless they ruined the line of the dress. Maybe he should have ordered something to wear under it. But he wasn’t that brave just yet.

Carefully, he slid on the dress, tugging it down. It was a little loose in the chest, but the neckline showed off his collar bones nicely. The sleeves were a little snug, but the waist hit him just right. The skirt was pretty and flowy, giving him the illusion of hips, ending midway up his thigh. The website had called it a fit-and-flare, and when he did a little twirl, the skirt flared out. He looked at himself in the mirror and stopped, his breath catching.

He looked pretty. Not handsome. Not cute. He looked pretty, with his soft dress and its swishy skirt. He moved this way and that, doing another twirl, and he couldn’t help the giggle that spilled from his lips. This was better than trying to pass off the black nail polish on his fingers as punk while pretending his toenails weren’t a soft, glittery pink. It was way better than that skirt that he’d pretended to buy for his girlfriend that never fit right and kept slipping off his non-existent hips because he was too scared to try it on in the store.

He wasn’t sure how long he spent in the bathroom, twirling and running his hands over the velvet-y fabric. Probably quite a while, because all of a sudden, Luke popped his head through the door while Reggie was mid-twirl. “Hey Reg are you in here? Julie’s home and I had a killer idea- Oh.”

“Dude!” Reggie yelped, hands pushing the skirt down like that was the issue. “What happened to knocking?” Even though all three of the guys had long since given up on knocking, especially because Reggie usually took forever in the shower and Alex did want to brush his teeth before going to meet his boyfriend.

“You look hot,” Luke said, before pulling his head back. “Reggie’s in a dress and he looks fucking hot,” he heard him tell Julie, and Reggie kind of wanted to die a little. Luke phased back through the door, taking his hand and pulling, but Reggie didn’t budge.

“Come on, babe, come show Julie how hot you look,” Luke urged.

“Luke no,” Reggie said, trying to tug his hand back. At another insistent pull that nearly got him through the door, he snapped. “Quit it!” He yanked his hand back, and Luke went flying through the door, an ‘oof’ on the other side meaning he probably landed hard. Reggie winced, but he couldn’t feel too bad about it right at this moment.

This was supposed to be a private thing. A just-for-him thing, until he got the confidence to talk to Luke and Julie about it. He frantically started to grab his clothes from the floor, wondering if he should poof away, or hide in the shower behind the curtain as he changed, or something.

There was a soft knock at the door. “Reggie?” Julie’s voice called gently. “You don’t have to come out if you don’t want to.” He closed his eyes, taking a breath. He’d felt so good a moment ago, and now all he felt were the same nerves and shame and fear of getting caught, of being seen, that he remembered from the nineties. “But if it matters... I want to see you. If you’d feel comfortable with that. I bet you look really pretty.”

There was that word again. The way Julie said it, it sounded like she meant it. “Promise you won’t laugh?” he asked, nervously fiddling with the hem of the dress.

“Cross my heart,” Julie promised. “It’s just me and Luke, nobody else.”

Okay. He could do that. Luke had seen him already anyway, and his reaction was... well, it hadn’t been bad.

When he stepped through the door, Luke was sitting on the floor, still pouting, but his expression quickly changed to a grin when he saw Reggie. Julie had moved back from the door, giving him his space. She let out a surprised little ‘oh’ when she saw him. He flushed, reflexively smoothing down the skirt.

“Come closer?” she asked, holding out her hand. Reggie took it, moving closer to her. She ran her thumb over the fabric on his wrist. “You look really pretty.”

“Yeah?” Reggie asked, and he could hear the slight desperation in his own voice.

“Beautiful,” Luke said, coming up behind him and pressing a kiss to his neck. “You look gorgeous, baby.” Arms came around his waist, and Luke’s hands moved over his stomach. “Oh. It’s soft.”

“Yeah!” Reggie said, slowly warming up to them seeing him like this. “And the skirt’s really swishy and pretty when you twirl.” Immediately, Luke pulled back, taking his hand and sending him into a twirl. He twirled, grinning when the skirt flared out again, before twirling back into Luke’s arms. He caught Reggie easily, dipping him dramatically before helping him upright again. Julie chuckled.

“You know, I have some black fishnets that would complete this look,” Julie said. “Maybe with some nice big stompy boots and a choker.” She ran her hand over Reggie’s shoulder, along the hem of the neckline, over his collar bone. He shivered. “Maybe some lip gloss?”

“I’d like that,” Reggie whispered. Maybe Julie would do his eyes as well. He always loved a good smoky eye on the girls who went to their shows back when they played the bar scene.

“Maybe some pretty lace panties,” Luke suggested behind him.

“Luke,” Julie glared over Reggie’s shoulder, taking Reggie’s hand. “We’re being supportive, not horny.”

“I can be both!” Luke argued.

Reggie tried and failed to bite back a grin. “Maybe we can look on the computer for some later?” he asked Julie hopefully. Her cheeks flushed prettily, and suddenly she didn’t seem to mind being both Horny and Supportive.

Online shopping was the best.

[spaceorphan18]

Head Over Feet (2/14)

After Kurt and Blaine broke up the second time, they went their separate ways, living their separate lives in New York City. Fifteen years later, a retirement party brings them back together into each other’s orbit, with surprising, for both of them, consequences. Are they able to fit each other into their already complicated and messy lives? And are these newfound feelings real? Or just echoes of a past relationship?

Canon Divergent after Season 5.

Ao3 Link

A/N: Since the first chapter seemed to be such a huge hit - I'm dropping this today. This was all originally supposed to be the first chapter anyway! Going forward, I'm going to try to update once a month. Thanks for reading - and I hope you enjoy! :)

Thanks to @snarkyhag for the beta. :)

***

Chapter 2: Loser Like Me (Part Two) 

Kurt Hummel loves sex.  He loves the feeling of strong hands holding his body, rough lips against his skin, and a hard cock buried deep within him.  And that morning he had woken up feeling particularly horny.  He isn’t sure what exactly he had been dreaming about but his dick aches to be touched.  And luckily he shares his bed with a very hot guy who doesn’t mind taking care of it for him.  

He and Ian have been together a little over a year now, though this moving in together thing is new and still taking time to get used to.  Sex, however, is not an adjustment they need to make.  Ian doesn’t seem to mind Kurt waking him up with a hand on his cock, desperate to be fucked.  Ian might be a little slow to wake, but not long after they start, Ian’s already pulling Kurt to a quick orgasm; Kurt spilling all over Ian’s fist as Ian pumps his hips into Kurt from behind.  

The thing is, as much as Kurt loves sex, he’s not one to draw it out.  Kurt finds himself holding steady onto the bed frame, staring at the wallpaper, as Ian takes his time fucking him.  And the wallpaper is incredibly ugly.  Seriously.  He knows that Ian isn’t the one to have picked it out, but it’s a striped puke-green, burnt-orange, and tacky-gold, left over, most likely, from a renovation to the old building from the sixties.  It’s a travesty that it’s remained on the wall so long, and if Ian would just fucking come already, he wouldn’t be forced to stare at it for so long.  

Kurt fucks his hips back a little, hoping that Ian will pick up the pace.  He leans back for a kiss (that wallpaper is seared forever in his head, god) and gives out a little moan.  It’s a tiny bit performative, but it seems to do the trick, and Ian’s hips finally begin to snap, pushing him to his own orgasm.  

“Fuck, Kurt, I could wake up this way every day for forever,” Ian says, sucking a kiss to his shoulder.  

The word ‘forever’ echoes in Kurt’s brain uncomfortably.  Kurt turns in Ian’s arms, quieting him with a kiss.  “Happy to oblige.”

Ian goes in to deepen the kiss, but Kurt pulls away.  Now that he’s feeling a bit satisfied, he wants nothing more than to take a shower and get ready for the day.  He’s got about a thousand things to do, and he’s eager to get started.  Ian tries to keep him close -- he’s always wanting to make out after sex -- but Kurt manages to slip out of Ian’s light grasp.  

“Shower time,” Kurt says, wiggling his eyebrows.  

“Mmm, let me join you.”

The thought suddenly makes Kurt twitch but he tries not to show it.  What is wrong with him? His incredibly handsome boyfriend, with his disheveled dark hair and playfully pleading light eyes wants to join him in the shower for a possible part two of morning sexy times.  But having Ian shoved in next to him in their tiny shower stall makes him feel claustrophobic.  

He pushes past his discomfort to allow Ian to join him.  He even gives in to a little light making-out.  But there’s no way sex is happening in that bathroom.  

They do their morning routine together, bumping into each other in the tiny bathroom.  The sink is covered in bottles and sprays, creams and soaps, razors and combs, and they have to reach over each other to grab what they need.  Kurt is normally a very organized person, and when he moved in, he took the time to organize a side for each of them. But since then, Ian’s stuff has slowly migrated over to his side, and Ian’s slowly been using the products on Kurt’s side.  And mostly, he’d be fine with the sharing if things would just keep their place.  However, he doesn’t say anything, enjoying Ian’s good mood.  

Ian suggests breakfast, wanting to go to the little bagel shop a few blocks down.  He asks Kurt to walk with him but, just wanting a few minutes to check his emails alone, he declines.  Ian throws a look of disappointment but heads out, stating he’ll bring Kurt something back.  Kurt tries not to feel guilty about it, and reminds himself that there’s nothing wrong with wanting a few minutes to yourself.  Besides, Ian’s still excited that they’re living together.  He’ll calm down.  Surely.   Right?  

Ian being gone gives Kurt a few minutes to pick up the apartment.  There are clothes discarded in the living room, where they had been left after starting sex on the couch the night before.  There’s an old pizza box sitting on the coffee table, a few mugs with half-drunk tea, and a scattering of papers.  And underneath a pile of Ian’s sheet music is the mail from the previous week, most of which is Kurt’s.  He clenches his jaw as he goes through it, annoyed that he’s just now seeing it.  

There are a couple of old bills in here that need to be paid, as well as a bright red envelope that looks like an invitation sent from McKinley High.  He looks over the invitation with curiosity, though something else quickly catches his eye.  It’s a jewelry catalogue sent to Ian.  Specifically, a men’s jewelry catalogue.  And Ian doesn’t wear jewelry.  Highly suspect of it, he looks it over, and a growing anxiety starts to spread.  This could not possibly mean…

The door slams shut and Kurt jumps from his spot on the couch.  It’s just Ian home from the bagel shop.  

“I got your favorite, multigrain with that fancy whipped cream cheese that you like,” Ian says.  He hands him the bag and gives him a kiss on the cheek before sitting down next to him.  

“You didn’t give me my mail,” Kurt grumbles, taking the bag.  Then adds a quiet, “thank you.”  

Ian shrugs it off.  “I figured you’d see it eventually.  I’ve been wondering when you’d open that red envelope.  I wanna know what it is.”

“Oh,” Kurt places the bag with his breakfast on the coffee table and picks up the envelope from his lap, opening it.  He gives it a fond smile.  “I guess my old choir director is retiring.  There’s a party for him back in Lima.”  

“Well, that’s cool,” Ian says, grabbing the invitation out of his hand.  “Quaint.  I’m guessing you aren’t going?  I mean, other than mentioning your dad, I’ve never heard you talk about your time in Ohio.  Hell, I’ve never even heard early New York stories.  All I know is one day you walked into my piano bar, a full grown man, mysterious and sexy.”  Ian wiggles his eyebrows.  “Hard to imagine you in high school.”  

“Well, I can assure you I was anything but sexy,” Kurt says.  A flash of a memory crosses his brain - one of a performance in a warehouse, lots of boys in blazers, and a really uncomfortable situation for young Kurt.  He shakes his head, ridding his mind of it.  

“So, are you going to go?” Ian asks, far more interested in the idea than Kurt is.  

Kurt scrunches his nose at the thought.  He hasn’t stepped foot in Ohio for a better part of a decade.  There aren’t even people from high school he still talks to, not on a regular basis anyway.  It’s sweet of Will Schuester’s family to think of him, but maybe he’s better off sending a card or something.  

“I don’t know,” Kurt says, he stares at the invitation, unsure of how he feels about it.  “I don’t know.”

***

Wednesdays mean that Ian is home all day.  He is a classical pianist by trade and his day job is playing with one of New York’s symphony orchestras.  In the evenings, he usually plays gigs at local bars.  But on Wednesday, he has time off from both jobs to be home all day.  Wednesday used to be the day where Kurt spent all his time with Ian.  Now that they live together, Kurt usually spends his Wednesday anywhere but home.  

It usually lands him at his own job, running a small theater that he co-owns with his old friend, Elliott Gilbert.  Technically, Elliott’s rich grandmother’s money bought the theater, and Kurt had been brought on to manage the projects and productions that happened there.  It’s still quite a work in progress, as the building had been nearly condemned when they originally bought it a few years earlier.  But with all their hard work, they’re beginning to draw in better productions, and this might be the first year they actually draw a profit.  

When he gets in that afternoon, he finds Elliott up in the rafters, working on some of the lights.  Kurt watches for a moment as Elliott finishes whatever he’s working on.  It’s hard to say, but he has the toolbox with him, so Kurt can only guess it has to do with the lights nearly coming down the other night.  They really need to get an electrician in, but Elliott’s pretty handy about these things, and will at least try to do what he can before they have to ask for help.  

Kurt watches a good few minutes as Elliott finishes up and comes down the ladder.  

“You’re being quiet,” Elliott says, carefully bringing down the toolbox as he reaches the bottom of the ladder.  Kurt, hands in pockets, just gives a gentle shrug.  “You’re not usually quiet, which means it can only be one of a few things.  Something’s up with your dad.  You want a favor.  Or it’s boyfriend problems.”

“Well, my dad is fine, and I don’t need anything,” Kurt says.  “So….”

Elliott lets out a heavy sigh, and places the toolbox on the ground.  “It wouldn’t kill you to go to therapy, you know.”

“You’re not my therapist?”

“Alright, so this session is going to cost you three-hundred dollars,” Elliott looks at his watch.  “You have twenty minutes.  Go.”

Kurt lets out a laugh as he follows Elliott to the edge of the stage.  Elliott jumps off but Kurt lowers himself to sit on the edge, his legs hanging off.  Elliott makes a shrug for Kurt to get on with it.  

“So, I was going through some mail, and I found this jewelry catalogue.  It had a lot of men’s engagement rings,” Kurt says.  Elliott makes a face as if to say ‘and…?’  Kurt purses his lips.  “I think Ian might ask me to marry him.”  

“Have you guys even talked about marriage?”

“Definitely not.”  

Elliott doesn’t seem at all convinced.  “Maybe it was just an ad then.  I get shit like that all the time.  I somehow managed to be subscribed to a women’s lingerie catalogue for years.”  

Kurt still can’t rid himself of the low-level anxiety he’s been feeling about it all day.  “Even so, I just… don’t like the idea.”  

“I thought you and Ian were doing great?”

“We are, we are,” Kurt says.  Elliott, again, doesn’t seem convinced.  “Ian’s in the honeymoon stage of wanting to do everything together, and I don’t know.  We’ve been together for a year.  We know how we are.  Do we really need to do everything together now that we live together?”  

Elliott folds his arms across his chest.  “Kurt, if this is becoming an issue, why did you agree to move in with him in the first place?”

Kurt stares up at the ceilings.  The old, red curtains have a few fringes and tears, and Kurt wonders vaguely, if they should get new ones or if anyone would really notice.  He kicks the stage lightly as he avoids Elliott’s question.  “I mean, my apartment lease was up, and they were going to double my rent.”  

“Oh, god,” Elliott chokes out.  “Please tell me that wasn’t the only reason.”  

“It’s not,” his voice squeaks a little too much on the words.  “I also, you know, love him.”  

Elliott shakes his head.  Kurt knows judgment when he sees it.  “This is just classic Kurt,” he says.  

“You know, there’s nothing wrong with having an adjustment period with having to live with someone after I’ve had my own place for so long,” Kurt says, defending himself.  

“Uh-huh.”

“I just like my independence.”

Elliott’s eyebrow is arched high.  “Or you like sabotaging your relationships.”

Kurt scoffs, looking off to the side of the stage.  They’re going to need to scrub this whole place down before allowing anyone to do a production here again.  Elliott, however, is not letting him off the hook, and eyes him hard.  “I do not do that.”

“Then why have I seen you more in the past couple of weeks than you’ve probably seen him?”

It’s a fair question, Kurt admits to himself.  “Well, I do find you tolerable.”  

“Kurt, you don’t find any of your boyfriends tolerable,” Elliott says.  He almost sounds annoyed, but he knows Elliott’s limits and he knows he hasn’t reached them.  But truth be told, he’s as sick of himself as Elliott probably is.  “Who was that guy before Ian? That Matt guy? Why did you break up with him?”

He picked the scab, of course Elliott is going to rip open the old wounds.  “Because he wanted me to be ‘a part of the family’,” Kurt replies, using air quotes to highlight his point.  Matt had been a sweet guy, but his family had been his life.  He hadn’t been ready to be a part of any family, let alone one that had been as close as Matt’s had been.  He felt as if he had been suffocating every time they went to visit.  “His family was crazy.  I didn’t need to be a part of that.”  

Elliott nods, continuing on.  “Okay, and Joey was the one before that.  I remember him because he helped clean up this place when we bought it.”  

Kurt bites his lip.  He did feel bad about that.  Joey had been so quick to offer his time.  But Joey also had been there.  All the time.  It had been too much.  “He was super clingy,” Kurt says quietly, though he hates that he’s seeing the trend.

“Sure he was,” Elliott says.  A grin slips onto his lips.  “And then there was Steven.”  

“He wanted to marry me six months into the relationship,” Kurt says.  He snaps a little too loud, his voice echoing in the empty theater.  Elliott remains amused, even if Kurt is not.  “Who knows they want to get married six months into a relationship?  Why are you getting on my case about this?  It’s not like you don’t go through, like, three guys a week.”  

Elliott throws his head back in a laugh.  “Well, I am at peace with my slutty ways.  Look, Kurt, it’s not about the number of guys you go through.   It’s just that, well, honestly, I’ve known you forever.  And I know you’re this old school romantic and the slutty ways will never be satisfying for you.  Did it ever occur to you that the reason it doesn’t work out with these guys is not because you’re this progressive independent, but because deep down you want to be an old school married, and haven’t found the right person to be with yet?”

The gnawing pit in his stomach starts to fade as he thinks about the old fantasy -- the one he had as a kid, where you met your prince, and you lived happily ever after.  Only, real life doesn’t happen like that.  Most guys are not princes, and the ones who are don’t always lead to happily ever after.  He knows better than to be unrealistic, but maybe he’s pushing people too far away.  

“Do you think I’ve made a mistake?” Kurt asks, he begins bouncing his foot against the stage again.  

Elliott goes soft in deposition.  “You know I can’t answer that for you.”

“You’re probably right,” Kurt says.  He thinks of Ian - of his kind smile and good heart.   He shouldn’t be running, even if every ounce of him feels like it’s too much.  “Ian is a good guy, and I’ve been…”

“Difficult?”

“I was going to say myself, but thank you.”

“I do my best.” Elliott playfully taps his knee.  “If you want, though, you can crash at my place for a few days.  I’m gonna be out of town.  Some third cousin is getting married, and Mom insists that everyone be there.”

“No, I’m good,” Kurt insists.  And then an idea hits him.  “You know, I got an invitation to go back to Lima.  Old high school choir thing.  Maybe I’ll take a long vacation and do that.  It could give me some time to clear my head -- reflect on my questionable life choices.”  

Elliott gives a hearty laugh.  “You haven’t talked about Lima in years.  Besides, going back to Lima might force you to dig into your past, and we all know how much you enjoy doing that.”

Kurt swats at Elliott.  “It’ll be fine.  What’s the worst that can happen?”

***

After work, Kurt doesn’t go home right away.  Instead, he opts to walk around the city for a while.  There’s a slight chill, causing him to bundle his jacket a little tighter, and the sky is overcast, threatening a storm rolling in.  He won’t be out too late, but he knows Ian is back home waiting for him and he’s just not ready for it yet.  

His conversation with Elliott plays over in his head.  He does like his independence.  He always has.  Even when he had been a little boy, his parents had let him play on his own.  And after years of rejection from kids his own age, he learned that sometimes being on your own is your best bet.  It’s not that he doesn’t like the company his boyfriends have brought him over the years.  He just likes his space. And his peace and quiet. And his room to move about as he pleases.  And sometimes boyfriends make him feel too tied down.  

But he can’t help but think about what Elliott had said.  The thing that seems to stick in his brain, wiggling to the forefront of his thoughts.  Maybe he wants to be an old married? Maybe he does want that connection, that one person who seems to know him, who understands him enough that there will be days when they’re inseparable, and days when they’re apart.  He likes the idea of coming home to the same face every day to see someone who can read him like a book, who will enjoy the same things as him, who will love him for the insufferable human being he always seems to be.  

But are there really people out there like that?  

Maybe he’s not giving Ian enough credit.  When they had decided to move in together, Kurt thought it had been the most optimal choice.  Living costs would come down.  He’d have a partner to spend his time with.  And the sex.  God, Ian knows how to have sex.  

But permanently?  The buzz of anxiety begins to grow at the thought.  There are too many little things about Ian, too many things about himself that just don’t feel right.  It’s not perfect.  Well -- it’s never going to be perfect, he argues with himself.  But still…  

The storm breaks sooner than Kurt expects, a sudden heavy rain coming down.  Kurt stands on the street corner, looking up at the sky as he gets drenched.  Maybe the universe is trying to tell him something, and he can’t help but laugh as the rain splashes his face.  

Just as he’s about to head home, however, he catches a sign on the corner of a building.  A sign advertising an open leasing on a loft, with a number attached.  For a moment, he’s transferred back in time to all those years ago, when he lived in a loft in Bushwick with four other people all of whom had been trying to make it in the city.  He hasn’t thought about that loft in ages.  Hasn’t thought about those people in ages.  God, what even happened to…  

He tries hard not to think of the name that first pops in his head.  But he can’t help but see the face.  He shakes his head, as if attempting to get rid of the image.  

Nostalgia hits him just then.  

Nostalgia for a place he left long ago, for people whom he never thought he’d miss.  He is going to take that trip to Lima.  He does need a break from Ian.  He does need to get his life sorted out.  But mostly, he feels a soft ache for returning home -- even if he’s not sure where that is anymore.  

***

A week later, Kurt finds himself rolling up to one of Lima’s three motels in a car he rented at the airport.  It’s strange coming back to the city he grew up in and, yet, not returning back to his childhood home.  He had thought about driving past, but he hadn’t necessarily wanted to see through the window to see whatever happy suburban family had bought the place.  Instead, he had driven straight to the motel that he had booked himself the moment he knew he would be coming back.  

There is something surreal about returning to the place you grew up after so much time has passed.  It’s like time has frozen, remaining exactly the same as the moment you left, even if there are new storefronts in the old buildings, expansions where wooded areas used to be, and a real attempt, it seems, to clean the place up.  It feels unchanged, and Kurt can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing.  It’s just a thing.  

It’s evening by the time he gets in.  The motel room is bland and tiny, and the four channels on the TV don’t offer much entertainment.  He lays down on the bed to stare at the ceiling, thinking if there’s anything he could do.  Most places in Lima shut down before eight, even on a Friday night.  And it’s not like he has anyone to call. He had been texting Mercedes Jones earlier in the week, shocked that her number had still been the same, but she had explained that she wouldn’t be getting in until very late and implied that whatever plans she had wouldn’t be with him.  He had understood, and it’s not like he won’t be seeing her the next day anyway.  Scrolling through his phone, he finds that he doesn’t have a single other contact from high school he could call.  

Maybe he should just text Ian -- but as his thumb hovers over his boyfriend’s name, he remembers that Ian is probably playing a concert that weekend. And even if he waits until later when Ian’s home, he just doesn’t want to ruin Ian’s good time by explaining that he can’t quite quash the crushing sense of loneliness that seems to be his homecoming.  

Why did he think this would be a good idea?

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices a neon flashing light, and through the window he sees a building that he hasn’t thought about in years.  Thinking anywhere is better than being stuck in that sad motel room for the next twelve hours, Kurt heads out into the night.  

***

Scandals is, if nothing else, exactly how he remembers it.  Not that his memories are anything more than fuzzy blips of moments from long ago.  He remembers the same posters being on the wall, in the same tattered state.  He remembers the huge, neon signs lining the walls.  And god, the music even feels strikingly similar.  There aren’t, he thinks with a laugh, any drag queens though.  

The atmosphere is quiet for a Friday night.  There are a few guys out on the dance floor, enjoying each other’s company, but most of the people in the bar are huddled in the darkened corners.  No one looks up from their conversations to notice him come in.  The bouncer is too busy flirting with a denim dressed, bearded guy leaning against the wall to notice him slip by.  

He’s not a few steps in when he realizes coming out to a bar seems like a silly thing to do, but makes a deal with himself to have one drink before he heads back to the motel and to do the sensible thing in calling Ian.  

But as he heads to the bar, he sees something that makes him freeze in his tracks.  

Is that…?

It can’t possibly be…?

Blaine Anderson is sitting at the bar, casually chatting with the bartender as he sips a beer.  Kurt is stunned to see him, his mind reeling at how this is even possible.  There is only one gay bar in Lima.  And he’s probably here for the reunion.  

But still… Blaine Anderson, of all people.  

There’s a tiny part of him that wants to run.  Turn on his heel and walk right back out of that bar and not even worry about the formal meeting they’ll inevitably have tomorrow at the reunion.  He doesn’t though.  

He watches Blaine for a moment, in his element, throwing his head back to laugh at something the bartender said.  It’s astounding to Kurt at how much and how little Blaine has changed.  Age, it seems, has done him well.  There’s less gel in his hair, allowing the natural curls to reveal themselves.  His face is harder, jawbone more defined. He’s wearing a dark sweater vest, but no bowtie, and the shirt underneath is unbutton, revealing a wisp of hair on his chest.  Blaine is no longer that young boy he once knew.  Sitting at the bar is a man.  

And yet… his movements are exactly the same.  The way he crinkles his eyes when he laughs, the way he lightly touches the bartender’s arm while expressing his point, the way casually plays with the napkin on the counter.  That’s still the Blaine he used to know.  

Kurt takes a deep breath, releasing the tension running through him.  He could leave… but he doesn’t really want to.  It’s been a decade since they’ve seen each other.  That’s enough time to let old wounds heal, right?

Kurt takes the plunge.

“I’m guessing this place rarely sees a man as gorgeous as you.  Mind if I buy you a drink?”

Blaine turns around, utterly shocked to see him there.  Kurt’s confidence slips as the silence lingers.  Maybe this had been a bad idea.  But then, Blaine breaks out into a grin.  

“Kurt?” He says his name slowly, as if it’s unfamiliar in a way, but easily slides off his stool, going in for a hug.  It’s awkward -- where do you put your hands and arms? How close do you stand? How do you properly greet someone you once agreed to share your life with?  Someone who is a relative stranger now.  It’s bizarre to him that somehow, Blaine still feels so familiar in his arms. “Please, join me.” Blaine offers the stool next to him as they slip apart.  “I’ll definitely take you up on that drink.”

Kurt sits down, suddenly feeling much more nervous than he had been.  Blaine waives down the bartender -- asking for beer, while Kurt shortly asks for an amaretto sour.  He definitely needs something to calm him down.  How is Blaine being so calm? Is he hiding it better? Or is it that he’s soon to be on his third beer?

“So, what are you doing here?” Blaine asks, placing his head on his hand, now looking amused.  There’s no anger there. No resentment, or negativity.  Blaine genuinely seems to be happy to see him.  Based on how they had left things all that time ago, Blaine could have harbored some ill will towards him.  But they are both adults now.  And it had been a long, long time ago.  

“I’m in town for Mr. Schue’s retirement party,” Kurt says.  He rubs his legs, not sure what to do with his hands.

Blaine nods, finishing off the beer he had been drinking when Kurt had arrived.  “Oh, yeah, I figured that.  I meant, what are you doing here ?” He uses both hands to point down.  

“Oh!” Kurt feels a little silly not understanding.  Thankfully, the bartender brings them their drinks.  Kurt wastes no time gulping half of it down as if it were a shot.  “I saw it from the motel window.  Call me crazy, but I was feeling nostalgic.”

“Huh,” Blaine takes a long sip from his bottle, narrowing his eyes as he thinks it over.  “You’re not staying with Burt?”

“Oh, god, right you wouldn’t know,” Kurt laughs as he stirs his drink.  “Dad retired a few years ago.  He and Carole moved to Arizona to be closer to her sister.”

“Ah, gotcha.”

“I guess I could have stayed with Uncle Andy,” Kurt continues, remaining fixated on his drink as he talks.  “He and his sons took over the tire shop.  But we’re not exactly close.  And he has, like, ten dogs.  I’d rather take my chances with the motel.”

Blaine nods, sympathetically.  

“What about you?” Kurt asks.  “How’s your family?”

“They’re pretty good,” Blaine says, easily.  “Cooper has three little girls.  Here, let me show you.”  Blaine wastes no time fishing out his phone, scrolling through the roll for a picture of three gorgeous young girls who all, clearly, take after Cooper.  Kurt coos accordingly but he can’t help but notice Blaine’s left hand, and the indentation of skin where a ring used to be.  It makes him wonder.

“So, what are you doing now?” Kurt asks, trying to relax on his stool.  He rests his elbow on the wooden bar, and his head on his hand.

“I teach, actually.  New York Institute of Fine Arts,” Blaine says, taking another sip of his beer with a laugh.  “I mean, I still perform every now and then.  But an adjunct professor was needed, and a friend of mine pulled some strings, and I just kind of fell into it.  I love it though.”  There’s no lie in Blaine’s voice.  Blaine had always been a passionate person, but it’s clear by his demeanor that he loves his job.  

Kurt smiles meekly, happy for him.  “A private school, of course.  How very you.  Actually, now that I think of it, that’s not far from my theater.”

“You have a theater?” Blaine’s eyes grow wide with interest.  

“Well, half a theater,” Kurt rocks his head from side to side, as if it’s a silly little thing, and not the pride and joy that he’s sunk most of his adult life into, now.  He plays with the nearby peanut bowl.  “The Gilbert Theater.”

“Oh, I know that place,” Blaine says.  There’s excitement in his voice.  Kurt isn’t sure why this makes him happy.    “I thought it had been condemned.  I mean - I’m sure you’ve fixed it up.”

“Oh we have,” Kurt says, thinking about all the work he’s put into it over the years.  “Elliott and I renovated it.  You wouldn’t even recognize it now.”

Blaine takes another slow slip of his drink.  “Elliott?  Like from college?” Kurt nods slowly. “Ah. So are you guys…”

“Oh, no,” Kurt quickly corrects.   “God, no.  Business partners only.”  It’s such a funny thought to him.  Elliott.  They’re like brothers.  No, he’s definitely not romantically linked with Elliott.  There is someone else… but he quickly pushes Ian out of his brain.  He doesn’t want to think about him. “So this is crazy, right? That we both ended up in the same sleazy place?  Maybe the universe was trying to push us together again.”

Blaine gives an uncomfortable laugh. “Well, there is only one gay bar in Lima, but I suppose…”

An awkward silence grows between them.  Blaine bops his head to the music.  Kurt munches on some peanuts.  They both avoid direct eye contact.  The uneasiness that Kurt had felt when he first walked in begins to return.  Maybe he should go.  

The bartender breaks the silence, asking Blaine if he’d like another drink.  There’s an ease there that Kurt picks up on.  Blaine knows the guy -- like really knows the guy.  Kurt shifts from side to side not sure what to say or do.  He eyes the door, he can still slip out if he needs to.  

“Man, I cannot believe how little this place has changed since I used to come here,” Blaine says, taking a look around.  

“You mean when we were in high school?” Kurt asks.  He’d hardly say coming the three times that they did a lot.  

“No, it was actually after…” he trails off but Kurt picks up on what he’s saying.  After they broke up.  After he broke Blaine’s heart.  Blaine kind of skips past the beat.  Why dredge up all that old stuff.  That’s what the reunion is for, right? Something turns in the pit of Kurt’s stomach.  “When I moved back to Lima, I used to come here a lot.  Thought maybe throwing myself into this place might make me feel better.  Not so alone, you know?”

“Did it help?” Kurt’s voice is small.  

“Maybe,” Blaine says with another laugh.  “I don’t know, it was so long ago.  You know it…” he pauses, thinking it over.  “Alright, if I tell you something - do you promise not to run screaming?”

Kurt’s intrigued.  “Of course.”

Blaine stares intently at his bottle.  “After you and I ended things -- I came back to Lima.  And I sorta, kinda dated Dave Karofsky for a while.”

Of all the things that Blaine could have said -- that is the last thing Kurt expects to hear.  It makes Kurt chuckle into his drink.  He can’t even picture it, it’s such a wild thought.  “Wait, seriously?”

“Shocking, right?”

“A little.  More so that you were into a bear.”

The tension breaks as they let go into easy laughter.  The conversation becomes lighter as they begin to discuss old things.  They talk about Dave Karofsky, and how someone who had once been Kurt’s ghost had turned into a friend whom Kurt sees every few years for lunch.  Blaine mentions he had attended Dave’s wedding.  Kurt mentions he had lunch with Dave and his husband last year.  It’s strange how things can change so much in twenty years.  

They talk about Dalton -- though not about that staircase.  The staircase that will forever be burned in his memory for better or worse.  Instead, they talk about Sebastian Smythe with fondness, though neither could say where he ended up. And about the one time Blaine sang at the Gap to impress a guy whose name neither can remember.  

And for a moment, unprovoked, Blaine mentions his husband.  It’s a startling jolt into reality, but Blaine doesn’t give him any more than a name and a passing story about having to explain to his husband why he refuses to shop at The Gap.  It’s not like Kurt hadn’t heard Blaine had gotten married.  He doesn't remember who had told him or when or even how he had felt about it.  Blaine had wanted to be married.  He got his wish.  And Kurt is happy for him.  He wants to be happy for him.  Still, that missing ring…

As they reminisce, the bartender brings them more drinks.  The room begins to feel warm and familiar.  Kurt isn’t sure if it’s alcohol or Blaine that is making him feel so comfortable so far from home.  They talk about high school and old friends, people whom they’ve lost touch with and people they’re looking forward to seeing tomorrow.  Kurt learns that Blaine developed a surprisingly deep friendship with Santana Lopez.  Blaine learns that Kurt hasn’t talked to Rachel Berry since college.

“I just couldn’t after that show,” Kurt explains.  They’re both giggly from drinking too much - Kurt having to hold his hands up when the bartender offers him a third.  “I mean - not that she even tried to keep in touch with me.  But my god did you watch that thing? It was terrible! She was fine - she was always fine.  But who decided that would be what America wanted to see for a decade?”

Blaine snickers into his drink.  “Well, personally I was offended.  ‘Slaine’,” he uses both hands to make air quotes around the character’s names, “was written out after year two.  I was like ‘fuck that’.  It’s just as well.  Had he stayed on, I might have had to sue their asses for defamation of character.”

“You are not wrong,” Kurt says, unable to stop laughing as he thinks about it.  He puts a hand on Blaine’s shoulder to balance himself so as to not fall off his stool.  

Blaine notices and smirks.  “How drunk are you right now?”

“Less drunk than you are,” Kurt smiles into his glass.  He is buzzed but not at all drunk.  In fact, he feels good and relaxed and happy.  When had he last been this happy?  “Anyway… All I know is that a terrible writer wrote ‘Cert’ as the sassy yet sexless gay best friend.  And he stayed on the show.  The. Entire. Run.  If anyone has the right to sue, it’s going to be me.”  

“Well, for what it’s worth.  I don’t think Cert was anything like you,” Blaine says.  He leans in close.  Kurt can smell the sweet scent of raspberries.   “Personally, I thought you were always sexy.”

Something in the atmosphere shifts.  Suddenly, Blaine is close.  Close enough that he can see the depths of Blaine’s golden eyes.  There’s something there that Kurt hasn’t seen in a long time, and it causes him to break.  

He’s not sure what it is that makes him say it.  He’s not sure if it’s the heaviness of guilt, or the friendliness of Blaine’s demeanor, or the fact that all of this nostalgia is causing him to reflect on his life’s choices - but he can’t help but let the words stumble out.  “Blaine, I’m so sorry.”  

Blaine looks at him, genuinely confused.  “For what?

“For a lot of things, I feel like I owe you an apology for so many things,” Kurt rambles on.  “I was not in a good place and you… I shouldn’t have ended it.  I mean I shouldn’t have ended it the way that I did.  I shouldn’t have hurt you like that.  And I’m sorry that I did.”

Blaine takes a moment to think it over, as if he’s processing everything Kurt’s saying.  “Kurt…” he lets out a sigh. “You weren’t the only one who was a mess back then.  You don’t have anything to be sorry about.  We had a good thing.  We had a great thing, even.  But it’s fine.  It’s all in the past, and I’m fine.”  

Kurt feels a bit of relief wash over him.  Maybe this is why he needed to come back.  Maybe he had just needed to bury his demons.  He feels lighter than he has in, well, a while.  He reaches out for Blaine’s hand and squeezes it.  It feels comforting in his own.  

“Look at us now, all grown up,” Kurt says, a smile sliding across his face.  “I mean, you’re married and I’m…”

“Kurt?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s an open marriage.”

Blaine places his free hand just above Kurt’s knee and squeezes, ever so lightly, he holds it there, stroking his thumb along the side of his thigh.  It’s an invitation.  His cock gets there first, as he watches Blaine’s hand, firm and strong.  His brain becomes fuzzy, but all he can fixate on is the urge to have Blaine’s hand travel up.  This is closure, right?

“Come with me,” Kurt makes the quick decision not to second guess this.  He grabs onto Blaine’s hand with purpose, sliding off the stool and taking Blaine with him.  Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Blaine smirk as he throws out a few bills on the counter to pay for the drinks.  

***

They’re in the bathroom stall, where Kurt vaguely remembers making out once back at the end of his senior year.  They never would have done anything as daring as have sex in a public place, but just kissing, even in a place that accepted it, felt naughty and fun back then.  

Now, he couldn’t care less that there are people who might know what they’re doing.  His desire is too strong, his brain clouded in a haze of need to taste Blaine again; the wonder of if it will feel so good after so long.  The room is broken up into stalls, dimly lit, and smells as if they are the next in a long line of gay men who will use this place to relieve themselves in more ways than one.  Kurt pulls Blaine back to the farthest stall, ignoring that there’s another couple occupying another stall, the panting sounds of their fucking echoing in the room.  It only turns him on more.  

Once the stall door is locked, Blaine looks at Kurt, his large, dark eyes more sure than Kurt is about this.  It almost throws him off kilter but Kurt looks to Blaine’s mouth, and suddenly he remembers all the things that can be done with it.  His resolve broken, Kurt lunges for a kiss.  

Blaine kisses back with force, pushing Kurt back into the wall.  Kurt doesn’t even care that the metal bar for handicap use is pressing against the back of his thighs.  He just wants to feel Blaine.  They kiss deeply, wantonly.  His sense memory returns and suddenly he feels like a teenager again, hungry for Blaine back when he had been first discovering what sex is.  Kurt moans into the kiss that encourages Blaine to slide his tongue against Kurt’s.  

They’re all hands and mouths, wrapping themselves around each other as they make-out.  Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine’s neck, combing his fingers through Blaine’s curls as he pulls Blaine closer to him, enough so that their bodies are sliding against each other.  Blaine brings his hands down to Kurt’s ass and squeezes with both hands.  Fuck.  He doesn’t remember the last time he’s gotten so hard so fast.  

They begin to rock against each other as they kiss.  Kurt can feel Blaine’s hard cock pushing up against his own.  If they keep going at this speed, he is not going to last long, and dammit, he refuses to come in his pants.  

Kurt breaks the kiss, only for Blaine to start kissing along his jaw and down his neck, Blaine’s touch is electric, and Kurt can’t help but feel dizzy with pleasure.  He loses himself in Blaine’s embrace, soaking up the feeling as much as he can.  It’s been fifteen years since they’ve fucked - how can this possibly feel so good?  

Blaine works his way back up to Kurt’s mouth, though this time, Kurt is able to slow it down.  Kurt busies his hands with the buttons on Blaine’s pants.  Blaine takes a slight step back, allowing for Kurt to pull him out.  Kurt takes a quick second to look down at Blaine’s cock; his thick and delicious cock.  If only they weren’t in a bathroom stall right now, Kurt would take his time devouring that cock.  Instead, he takes to stroking it, becoming satisfied with the low moans and grunts that are eliciting Blaine’s mouth.  

Blaine steadies himself against the wall, as he begins to pump his hips in time with Kurt’s strokes, fucking himself into Kurt’s hand.  “Let me,” Kurt says, in a low whisper, biting gently at Blaine’s lips before they fall into a sloppy kiss.  Blaine is close - he knows Blaine is close, he can feel it as Blaine arches further into his hand.  Kurt speeds up his hand, deliberate in his strokes.  It’s a little rough, but Blaine becomes more and more undone, uttering little obscenities as he closes eyes and allows himself the pleasure.  Blaine comes, jolting into Kurt’s hand, and lets out a moan that Kurt covers with a kiss.  

“Give me a second,” Blaine says, breathlessly, holding firmly against the wall as he comes down.  

Kurt smirks, licking the come off his fingers.  His own cock is throbbing with need but there’s something incredibly satisfying seeing Blaine loose and fucked out.  

Blaine takes a second to put himself back in his pants and then goes down on his knees.  This isn’t at all what Kurt had been expecting, and his eyes go wide as Blaine sucks a kiss over Kurt’s clothed cock.  

“You really don’t have to do that,” Kurt says, feeling a little guilty.  Blaine’s legs are sticking out of the stall door and anyone could interrupt them.  

“Shut up and let me blow you, Kurt,” Blaine says, a wicked grin on his face as he unzips Kurt’s zipper.  Kurt’s cock bobs free, and like a man allowed to drink water after years in the desert, Blaine sucks Kurt all the way down in one go.  

“Jesus, fuck Blaine.”  He really doesn’t care if there’s anyone else in there who can hear them.  Blaine had always been good at blow jobs; always so eager to give them, and Kurt’s glad to know that Blaine’s enthusiasm hasn’t changed.  Blaine sucks him down, greedily, and he loses himself in the sensation of Blaine’s velvety mouth on him.  

“I’m curious about something,” Blaine says, pulling off.  Kurt can’t imagine what, but he doesn’t have to wait long to find out.  Blaine begins to stroke him, slowly, drawing it out.  Then sucks a kiss to the tip of Kurt’s cock, using his tongue to swirl and tease it, before he sucks him down once more.  Kurt lets out a heavy groan as his knees nearly buckle.  “Huh. So that really still does things for you?”

Kurt can’t help but give a little laugh.  “Shut up and finish me off, Blaine,” Kurt manages the tease despite him now being desperate to come.  

Amused, Blaine obliges, sucking Kurt into his mouth again. Kurt closes his eyes, taking it all in as he lets Blaine take him over the edge.   He spills into Blaine’s mouth, Blaine being able to swallow with ease -- something, he notes, Blaine hadn’t been able to do before.  As Blaine pulls off, he licks his lips, and remains on his knees for a long moment.  

The atmosphere then shifts suddenly.  Blaine looks down for a long while, and Kurt can’t tell what Blaine’s feeling -- Guilt? Sadness? Regret?

“Thank you for that,” Blaine says, his sincerity layered with something that feels like finality.  Blaine gives Kurt’s hip a kiss before helping put Kurt back into his jeans.  There’s something strangely intimate about it, and despite the fact that Kurt is feeling blissed out from his orgasm it’s now tinged with a heavier, unknown feeling.  Blaine gets to his feet.  There’s a lot going on behind his eyes that Kurt can’t read, but Blaine says nothing, only gives Kurt a soft kiss on the lips.  “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”  

Blaine leaves the stall but Kurt stays, unsure what to make of everything that happened.  A lot just happened.  A lot.  And as the buzz of sex begins to wear off, a sickening gnawing grows in his stomach.  He just had sex with his ex-fiancé whom he hasn’t seen in years.  He just cheated on his boyfriend.  But what makes Kurt feel the worst, as he slides down the wall to sit on the sticky floor because his legs can no longer hold him, is the realization that for Blaine - that might have been his way of saying goodbye.  

[detectivereyes]

Even If You Stumble A Step, You’re Still Moving Forward

Summary: TK and Carlos move into their new home post-finale and TK doesn't exactly make the best first impression on their new neighbors...

Notes: this was like a fever dream i had a few months ago and then i stopped writing but decided to revive it last night so... here we are. also title creds (and emotional support creds) to jillian @marjansmarwani​ because this fic wouldn’t exist without her. and also s/o to brit @moviegeek03​ for being extra supportive of yet another fic where [spoiler] tk falls down the stairs again :/

read on ao3

TK shuffles through the maze of boxes stacked several feet high throughout their new home. The scene shouldn’t surprise him considering it was only a few months ago he was moving his own boxes into their old home. However it feels different knowing that most of this stuff isn’t actually theirs.

Well, it is theirs now he figures. But the fact remains that most of the stuff filling the space was either given to them by various members of the extended 126 family, or was recently purchased by TK or Carlos on one of their many trips to Bed Bath and Beyond. 

They had taken their time searching for a new place to live. Owen had made it clear that they were both welcome to stay with him (and Mateo) for as long as they needed, but TK had known it was time.

So when a townhome popped up on Zillow that met all their criteria, they wasted no time booking an appointment with the realtor. They both had instantly fallen in love with the open floor plan and deck out back. Plus they knew the extra bedrooms upstairs may come in handy someday.

While they knew the vertical layout of the home itself wasn’t the best, having more stairs than either of them were used to, it checked every other box and was right in their price range so they had wasted no time signing the lease.

A few days had passed since settlement and now most of their days were spent trying to unpack and make this new house into a home. It would never replace the one they had lost, but it had been exciting to build this new home together.

Though on this particular day, TK found himself alone in trying to get settled in since Carlos had a shift. With the 126 still out of commission, possibly forever, and the department not having any openings for paramedics, most of the unpacking was left for TK.

After getting a good chunk of the living room done, he checks the time and decides to go out and see if the mail has come yet. Not that he’s expecting anything with their address still being so new, and not getting much physical mail anyway to begin with. But it still provided a good excuse to take a break.

TK opens the front door and starts to make his way down the set of stairs leading down. 

He makes it about halfway before his attention is caught by one of his new next door neighbors, Mr. Martin- if he remembers correctly, exiting at the same time. Mr. Martin gives a friendly wave and TK goes to return the gesture.

Except, he’s not paying attention when he takes the next step, and he misses, his heel just barely hitting the edge of the step before he starts to go down. He tumbles until he comes to a hard stop at the bottom, with most of his weight coming down on his right knee, sending shooting pains up and down his leg.

The rest of his body is sore, and by the time his ears stop ringing, he can just barely make out a new female voice asking “Sir, are you okay?”

He opens his eyes, which he had not even realized he had squeezed shut at some point, to see his neighbor, Mrs. Bailey- his brain supplies, from across the street making her way over to check on him, worried lines painting across her forehead.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m fine,” he grimaces while pushing himself up to a seated position. He tries to hide the blush forming on his cheeks. Not the best way to make a good first impression on his neighbors.

“Are you sure, son? We can call for help if you need it. Someone you know, or 9-1-1?” Mr. Martin joins in the conversation.

“No!” TK interjects too quickly, startling both neighbors. He panics for a moment when the weight of the predicament settles in. He meets the gaze of both figures still staring at him, clearly concerned and waiting for him to say something. “I mean, I’m a paramedic. I’m fine. Or I will be fine. Thank you,” he flashes them both a quick smile before pushing himself up off the ground, ignoring the sharp pains that radiate from his knee when he tries to put any weight on it.

Getting back up the stairs is no easy feat, and he doesn’t have to turn around to know that both Mr. Martin and Mrs. Bailey are still watching him, concerned. Fortunately, they don’t know him well enough to try and follow or help. He’s not sure he would feel comfortable enough receiving help from some strangers. Half the time he doesn’t even feel comfortable receiving help from the people he does know.

He leans heavily on the railing, refusing to turn around out of fear of further mortification. Once he’s inside the home, he collapses right inside the hall, unable to go any further since his knee decided to stop cooperating.

A few tears pool in his eyes, and he’s unsure if that’s due to the pain or embarrassment. Not knowing what else to do, he takes out his phone and shoots a quick text to Carlos.

TK: we have to move

It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for the three dots to pop up before being replaced by Carlos’ response.

Carlos: ???

TK sighs and rubs his face, trying to figure out the best way to explain the situation.

TK: i feel down the stairs out front and all the neighbors saw

Carlos: Holy shit, are you okay??

He lets out a puff of air at that.

TK: you mean besides my bruised ego?

TK: no, i hurt my knee but i’m fine. that’s not the issue here.

Carlos: Okay, I’ll be home in an hour and you can let me be the judge of that. If I see any swelling, we’re going to the doctor.”

He rolls his eyes at Carlos’ worry. At worst, it’s a bad sprain, nothing that can’t be fixed with some icing and wrapping. But there are other things they need to worry about.

TK: you’re missing the point, carlos. the entire neighborhood thinks i’m an idiot. we can’t live here anymore.

TK knows he’s being dramatic, but the more he thinks about it, the more embarrassed he gets. The idea that these are people he’s going to have to continue to face everyday for the foreseeable future. And that now all they’ll be able to think about when they do see him. Now he’ll just be known as the guy who can’t walk down stairs.

Carlos: Relax, TK. I’ll be home soon.

TK: you mean our temporary place of residence which we will soon be moving out of

He doesn’t get a response after that. 

His mind continues to spiral while he waits for Carlos to arrive. He knows the other man is likely climbing the walls trying to leave his shift early but it would still be awhile before he could be allowed to leave.

Left alone with his thoughts, his mind keeps playing out the series of events that happened minutes ago. He can't help but beat himself up over embarrassing himself like that. Ironically enough, it’s not even the first time he’s fallen down stairs, having taken a tumble down the stairs in Carlos’ place a few months back. And of course he would manage to injure himself that time, and this time as well.

He should at least try to get up so he can find an ice pack to lessen the swelling. Sitting on the floor up against the wall can’t be doing his knee any favors. Yet he can’t bring himself to move, instead resting his head back against the wall and sighing.

TK pulls out his phone again, cycling through the apps until he hears the tell-tale keys jingling in the already unlocked door.

As soon as Carlos steps through the door, he nearly trips over TK in the doorway. “Woah, hey! TK, are you okay?” he crouches down to TK’s level.

TK shrugs. Now that he’s face to face with Carlos, he can’t help but feel suffocated by another person judging him, even if Carlos’ worry comes from a place of concern.

“Can I take a look at your knee?”

TK nods, allowing Carlos to gently inspect his swollen joint. He winces as Carlos traces his hand around his kneecap.

“This doesn’t look good, babe. I think we need to go to the hospital.”

“No, it’s fine,” he quickly shakes his head. The worried look in Carlos’ eyes only makes his heart ache, and he can only try to find ways to make it go away. “Just help me up and we can ice it. It will look better once the swelling goes down a bit.”

Carlos gives him a look that screams I don’t believe you but sighs. “Fine, but if it doesn’t…”

“I know, I know. You’ll drag my ass to the emergency room,” TK gives him a reassuring smile.

Carlos returns the smile, and extends a hand to help TK up. TK accepts, and allows Carlos to take on most of his weight once he’s standing. They slowly make their way over to the living room, with Carlos softly depositing TK onto the sofa. He then disappears into the kitchen before returning with an ice pack in hand.

“Thanks,” TK smiles, trying to mask the wince as Carlos places the pack onto his knee.

“Do you want to watch an episode of The Office?” Carlos asks, picking up the remote and settling in the spot next to TK.

TK shrugs, knowing that Carlos is just trying to appeal to him by offering to put on his favorite show. The other man doesn’t even like the show that much, often finding the humor dry and tasteless, but TK thinks he just doesn’t get it.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”

There it is.

“I just can’t believe I did that in front of our new neighbors. They probably think I’m an idiot.”

“I’m sure no one thinks you’re an idiot, TK,” Carlos gently reassures him.

“Yeah all the neighbors saw me make an idiot of myself,” TK sighs exasperatedly. “God, how am I supposed to face these people everyday now?”

“Hate to break it to you babe, but this is not a valid reason for us to move.”

“I know,” he sighs again.

“Besides,” Carlos continues. “If your track record has proven anything, it’s that this won’t be the last medical emergency at our new home. It’s good that the neighbors are getting used to it now.”

TK gives him a pointed look.

“I’m pretty sure this is the second time you’ve fallen down the stairs since we’ve started dating,” Carlos says with a light chuckle.

“Whatever,” TK scoffs. “At least the other time it wasn’t in front of total strangers.”

Carlos softens. “That’s true. But I’m sure the neighbors just care about you. I don’t think this is that big of a deal, TK.”

“You weren’t there though. It was mortifying.”

“What did they say, exactly?”

TK nervously looks down. “They asked if I was okay. And if I needed any help.”

Carlos raises his eyebrow, waiting to see if TK continues. 

“They offered to call for help but I said no and went back inside.”

“See? They just care about you TK. I haven’t really talked to anyone yet but they seem like nice people.”

“I guess,” TK shrugs.

“I know, you’re still embarrassed. But if nothing else, they’ll probably forget about it by the next time we see them.”

“You don’t think I’ll be known as the ‘clumsy neighbor who can’t walk down stairs’?”

“Maybe the ‘cute clumsy neighbor that can’t walk down stairs,’” Carlos says with a smirk. “But we could always change that.”

TK cocks his head to the side. 

“You think our new neighbors might enjoy some peach scones when we go over and have a proper introduction?”

“You really plan to charm our new neighbors with your baking?” 

“You think it will work?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then yes, I do,” Carlos grins proudly. He then leans over and gently removes the ice pack from TK’s knee, grimacing at what he sees. “This still looks pretty swollen, babe. I think we need to go to the hospital.”

TK gives him a pained smile. “You sure I can’t talk my way out of this?”

“Nope,” Carlos says, popping the p. He stands up before extending his hand to help TK do the same.

TK accepts, shifting his weight and leaning into Carlos once he’s fully upright. 

“You know, I think you may have a paramedic blindspot when it comes to your own health.”

TK lets out a light laugh. “Yeah, I’ve been told.”

A week later, Carlos softly knocks on the door of Mrs. Bailey’s home across the street with one hand and a plate of peach scones in the other. TK had offered to hold the scones but when they went over to Mr. Martin's home earlier in the day, it was quickly discovered it was too difficult for him to manage getting up the stairs and holding the plate.

So he settles for letting Carlos do most of the work while he awkwardly limps up the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing to keep some pressure off his knee.

After their quick trip to the emergency room, it had been determined that TK’s initial assessment was right and it was just a bad sprain. He was given a brace to help reduce the pain and a pair of crutches, which (much to Carlos’ dismay) he abandoned after only two days, citing that they only made it harder to get around their home which he can now say for certain has too many damn stairs.

A problem which seems to follow him as he also has to get up the stairs to greet his neighbors.

“Maybe we should have moved to a neighborhood of single level homes,” he states with a wince as he joins Carlos at the front door.

Carlos snorts. “We can take it into consideration if we ever have to move again.”

“God, please don’t say that. I don’t want to think about moving ever again.”

“Good,” Carlos gives him a soft smile. “Because I’m planning on staying here for the long run.”

“Me too,” TK returns the smile just as Mrs. Bailey opens the door.

“What a lovely surprise!” she exclaims taking in the sight of the two men. 

“Hello ma’am,” Carlos says with a polite smile.

“We brought you some scones,” TK adds, gesturing to the plate in Carlos’ hands.

“Oh how thoughtful of you. Please come in. How are you doing?” she asks, turning to TK. “I’ve been worried.”

He exchanges a look with Carlos, the other man's face clearly saying I told you she cares, before turning back to Mrs. Bailey.

“I’m fine, ma’am. Thank you for asking. It’s just a bad sprain. But I do appreciate your concern, especially the other week.”

“Oh, of course dear,” she says with a warm smile. “Now, you boys aren’t going to make me eat these scones all by myself are you?”

They both let out a light chuckle and exchange another glance before following their new neighbor, and friend inside.

[princesscandijane]

Chastity Tips by Candi Jane

These tips are coming from the perspective of a sissy(me😀), these things still help without the sissy element.

I have been hearing sissys keep saying that you want to do long term chastity, but are too weak. I am hearing about how you want to feel helplessly desperate and horny. But as you get too horny and before you reach helplessly desperate you grab the key, unlock your little clitty, and jerk off. Then you have to start the process all over. Ideally you would have a keyholder, someone that forces you to keep honest, but most of us are not fortunate enough to have one. So here are some things that may help. Notice how I always use the plural for keys? Chastity devices come with more than one key, so make sure you are keeping them all together😁

Mail your keys to yourself:

Pretty self explanatory, take a self-addressed envelope, put a stamp on it, seal your keys in the envelope and mail it away. This is a great one to get the keys completely out of your possession and away from you for a period of time.

Though I recommend at least using your real address so the keys get back to you 😜

Depending on how the mail runs in your area this could be a 2-5 day event, for the cost of an envelope and a forever stamp. If you mail it on Saturday night after pickup, the mail will not get picked up until as early as Monday, so that is an extra 36 hours. There are also holidays to consider in which the mail doesn’t run, so if you mailed your keys after pickup on Saturday of Labor Day weekend, the earliest the mail will pick up your keys will be Tuesday. By that point you will have already had almost 3 days of chastity, add that to how well the mail is in your area, you may end up in a week in chastity! That is not even mentioning mailing during the holiday season when the mail is at its busiest, at that point you may be hoping that the keys did not get lost in the mail 😬 Which is one downside to consider when mailing. How well do you trust your postal service? Sometimes things do get lost in the mail 🤷‍♀️

Freezing your keys:

This one does require you to have a fridge/freezer that you can use to freeze your keys. This one is a bit difficult to do if you share your fridge/freezer. Unlike mailing the keys to yourself, the keys will be with you, so there does require a little bit more restraint, but this can be a lot of fun. I had a lot of fun experimenting with this one, a proper sissy school girl doing proper sissy science 😚 So first and foremost don’t do what I did first and use a glass bottle. I first tried putting the keys in an old glass liquor bottle. That was a horrible idea

DO NOT USE A GLASS CONTAINER

As I learned, as water freezes it freezes from the outside in and expands which makes the frozen water less dense than the liquid water which is why ice floats. I also learned that it is a really strong force and will break the glass, as I learned when the bottle neck broke in my hand and crashed to the floor 😨 I was not injured😅

So next I used a plastic gallon jug, which has a couple of pluses. First and foremost it will not break into harmful pieces(at worst crack open), and second a gallon is more than twice as large of volume as the normal 1.75L that the large liquor bottle has (3.785 liters = 1 gallon) so it will take longer to defrost. Second mistake I made was dropping the keys in the bottom to freeze.

As everything melts from the outside in, this would be the first to defrost and makes the size of the container mostly obsolete. Solution: I tied the keys to a string, lowered it down until it was halfway in the container and taped the string to the jug.

Do not fill it to the top, remember water expands as it freezes so be sure to give it room. Freezing takes about 24 hours. I recommend checking in on it periodically, because ice freezes from the outside in and you will see your keys floating surrounded by its ice prison, and if needed you can add more water.

The first time I froze the keys in the gallon jug(keys at the bottom), I checked how long it took to defrost at 74F in the shade, and it took less than 8 hours. Those that are familiar with cooking meats, know that ideally you wouldn’t defrost at room temperature, but allow it to defrost in the refrigerator. After 24 hours of freezing I put the jug in the refrigerator. Following times are based on my fridge being set at the factory recommended coolness.

After a day the water on the outside has melted, so if my keys were at the bottom I would be able to pour them out at this point.

After 3 days the ice has defrosted enough in which I can now start to see the keys trapped in its frozen prison

Every day I see a bit more ice thawed, slowly and slowly seeing my keys becoming closer and closer to freedom

Finally after 7 days I see my keys floating freely in liquid water

Only one problem

The ice above is not thawed enough to let me pull the string out 😫 So I put it back in the fridge, and five hours later my keys were free!

From freezing to thawing was just over 8 days of chastity.

So the numbers I have for a gallon jug of water is: freezing - 1 day, thawing at 74F in shade ~ 8 hours, thawing in the fridge ~ 173 hours.

During this time you can start focusing on doing important things. At the longest it is 8 days, and that is plenty of time to accomplish things. Many sissys have maid fantasies, well use that time to clean your home, not just a little clean, but really deep clean your house(bonus if you have a uniform). Imagine your mistress/master will be inspecting it later. Ask yourself, “Would I want to serve someone that accepts this kind of work?” or “If I paid a couple hundred dollars for cleaning service, would I be satisfied?” whichever🙃 As you are locked up and cannot jerk off, you can start practicing on your blowjob and anal skills. Use this time to learn to deep throat, or work towards that ever elusive sissygasm. Set goals at the beginning of things that should be done by the time the keys are defrosted.

Because the keys take 8 hours to defrost at room temperature, certain tasks can equal x amount of time out of the fridge. Such as if you are practicing your deep throat skills, every time your nose touches the wall/floor equals five minutes out of the fridge. 8 hours would be roughly 100 times, or even for every second your nose to the wall/floor is five minutes. That gives over a minute and a half total of your throat being filled 😄 Cleaning your home can work in similar point systems too. Each chore is x amount of points, some may be more than others, as cleaning the bathroom takes a lot more than doing laundry(unless you are washing by hand). They don’t have to be sissy/sub tasks. You can make some of them for your better wellbeing. Such as, maybe you are someone that needs some motivation to get in shape. Have each mile jogged/walked/run can equal half an hour. Or can go simple and for the amount of time you spent working out is the amount of time spent out of the fridge. The plus side is you can work on your sissy figure and improve your regular quality of life 😁 These goals can really be for anything that you may need to work better on yourself, like reading more(yes I am talking to you), learn/practice a new language, learn/practice an instrument, even things that will help improve your career(insert your own examples lol). These are only a few examples. But make some tasks/goal(what needs to be accomplished) and rules(the rewards of completing a task and punishment for failing). Simple punishment is it goes back in the freezer. Remember to make sure your tasks/goals are realistic, and don’t try to tackle too many things at once. So often people get this huge motivation and think of all of these things they are going to do, but then when things aren’t working out the way they planned they give up. Schedules get made and when we can’t maintain them we give up. That is how those 10 dollar gyms are successful, their pay plan only works when the majority rarely/never show up. So if you set a really high goal that is unrealistic, say from never exploring anal to wanting to take Captain Ameica’s cock(see Chris Even’s cock) in that time period, maybe unrealstic. Or spending an hour a day working on your blowjob skills. Or the working out goal, you plan to run 2 miles every day, or every other day. That sounds great in theory, but if we fail to meet it we have a tendency to give up. You start out good for a day or two, then on day three you make an excuse on why you cannot and by day 5 you feel your goal is too far out of reach and give up. If that is the case, then adjust your goal and the tasks along with it, the first one may have been too ambitious. So if your goal/task is too difficult, instead of giving up on it, adjust it. Maybe I should be a Sissy Life Coach lol 🙃 Make the goals realistic, try to better yourself as either a sissy or even in your regular life. These are just some of my ideas on this.

I say this as doing this by yourself, but this is something that can be done in a keyholder relationship. And the keyholder can devise the tasks that serve them best.

Freewill:

Now freezing does take some freewill, there are plenty of ways to cheat, and get around things. It isn’t instant, but still freewill is required. Freewill doesn’t require you to freeze or mail or anything. So this last tip I have is: try to get better than the last time. I say this over and over, but remember baby steps. I did not go from buying my first chastity to 60+ 24/7 consecutive days. It took time and practice. I went an hour, then maybe two hours. If I got too horny or it got too painful, I would take it off. The next time I would try to go longer. My first attempt to sleep in chastity I gave up not even halfway through the night, it became too uncomfortable. I worked my way from there, now I prefer to sleep in chastity. So each time try to get better than the last, and if you fail, unlock and jerk off, or if you complete the time and are rewarded with unlocking yourself, well that’s a perfect time to work on becoming a cum eater 😛(again baby steps). If you always lose the urge after, then try to push yourself to at least bring some of it to your face, after that push yourself to taste just a little, and then go from there until you are eating it all 🤤 It may take some months but keep working at it😀

Have fun and drink cum ❤❤❤

[delicioussshame]

Please donate to my campaign. My goal is to get friends for Shen Yuan.

Shen Yuan almost jumps out of his skin when he hears a knock on the door. No one had ever visited Luo Binghe since he came to stay here, and he had gotten the impression that it wasn’t that Luo Binghe had sent his usual visitors away for his guest’s sake. He does believe that his favorite student had been dreadfully lonely, these past few years.

How somehow as endearing as Luo Binghe ended up alone and friendless, Shen Yuan cannot fathom.  

Still, if someone is knocking on the door, the doorman must have let them in? It must be important then. Shen Yuan cannot imagine nobodies are allowed anywhere within this complex.

He thinks about texting Luo Binghe to ask, but what if he disturbs him? He must be busy, away at his important job while Shen Yuan does nothing but lazing around. And Luo Binghe did imply that he wouldn’t be ashamed of Shen Yuan’s presence no matter what, so… let’s test that, shall we?

Shen Yuan opens the door.

Shang Qinghua’s frazzled expression faces him.

Shen Yuan almost closes the door in his former colleague’s face.

“Wait, what, Shen Yuan?! Woah, I had no idea you went back to your parents, I thought you said that bridge had burned. Anyway, would love to catch up, but I’m on the clock and at the wrong place, sorry, gotta go or my boss is gonna kill me, bye!”

Shen Yuan stops Shang Qinghua by the shoulder to stop him from leaving. “If you were looking for Luo Binghe, not that I have any idea why you would be, you’re not at the wrong place.”

“Really? Why? How? Is there a story here? Cause it sure seems like there’s a story here. Tell me the story! But later, I have to deliver this?” He waves a boring manilla envelope like it’s supposed to make sense.

“Who still sends letters?”

Shang Qinghua shrugs. “My boss.”

“You’re a mail carrier now? Nice upgrade.”

“Well, I do what I have to do, I don’t live with the country’s most eligible bachelor. Seriously Bro, what happened here? Isn’t he a bit young for you?”

Shen Yuan is sure his blush is terribly incriminating, but he can’t help it.

“Wow. You have to tell me now.”

Shang Qinghua is acting terribly familiar for a guy Shen Yuan hasn’t seen since graduation. “Why should I?”

But Shang Qinghua has already let himself in, unceremoniously dropping the envelope on the nearest table and taking everything in with wide eyes before he lets himself fall on Luo Binghe’s designer couch without a care in the world. “C’mon. Fess up.”

“How about you? Why are you even here? For all I know you’re a thief trying to rob the place.”

Shang Qinghua snorts. “Not exactly my speed.” He shrugs. “Teaching didn’t pay the bills, got an administrative assistant job instead and somehow ended up working for one of Luo Binghe’s associates, hence the private delivery service. How about you? When I saw you earlier, I was sure you were retired and profiting off that sweet family money, but was I wrong? Or is this those Shen connections at work?”

Shen Yuan frowns. Why did he even tell this guy about his family again?

Oh yes, because he had been young, stupid and drunk: the university experience. “No. Luo Binghe is a former student of mine. I’m visiting.”

Shang Qinghua gives him the world’s judgiest look. “Visiting.”

Shen Yuan nods, face still as a lake. “Visiting.”

“While Luo Binghe isn’t there.”

Shen Yuan nods again. “It’s a long visit. I’m staying here right now.”

“At your former student’s house. Look, I’m just gonna say it: sleeping with your student is bad. Don’t do it! That way lies lawsuits!”

“Former student! And it’s not like that!” Technically correct. They haven’t slept together, not in the way Shang Qinghua implies they did. “He’s just lonely and a bit deluded. It’ll pass.”

Probably.

No, not even Shen Yuan believes it at this point. One can only be kissed so often before one has to face reality: Luo Binghe certainly thinks he cares about Shen Yuan more than a student should care about any teacher.

Shen Yuan just isn’t sure what he should do about it.

“If it’s not like that, which, Bro, you’re not making a good case for, you’re staying with him because…?”

“I’m on vacation?” Shen Yuan lies back on the cool leather. “It’s a nice place for it, and cheap.”

“And your “former student” was eager to host you. You, his high school teacher? Because from what my boss told me, Luo Binghe isn’t exactly famous for his openness. I’m half-certain Mobei-Jun sent me here as punishment. He wanted someone else to chew me up this time.”

Shen Yuan snorts. “Still very competent, I see.”

“Well, at least I was teaching my students, not offering “extra credits” if they stayed after class. And since when are you into men, anyway? You always acted like you didn’t notice when men hit on you.”

“Men never hit on me.”

It’s Shang Qinghua’s turn to laugh. “Glad to see that didn’t change. Luo Binghe must be something, to have managed to get through you. What did he tell you, that he wanted to bend you over the nearest desk? Anything less and you’d have been blind to it.”

For fuck’s sake can Shang Qinghua stop saying shit that embarrasses the hell out of Shen Yuan? It’d be very appreciated.

“Oh shit, he totally did! Go him! Did it work? Tell me it worked!”

“No! Can’t you shut up for once in your meaningless life!”

“Not gonna happen. I need to know more. He made a move, and you’re living with him now? His charisma must be something else. At that speed, when’s the wedding? No, wait, how long has this been going on? We haven’t seen each other in forever, you might have been “visiting” for three years as far as I know.”

This is torture. “Didn’t you say you had somewhere to be?”

Shang Qinghua waves his attempt at deflection away. “Forget it, this is way more interesting. Even Mobei-Jun will want in on this. Sooooo?”

Shen Yuan sighs. “I’ve only been here a few weeks. As I said, it’s just a vacation. I’ll leave once the school year starts again.”

“Why can’t you stay here anyway? That dear student of yours must want to keep you, right? Unless you’re really being bankrolled by your parents, this is way nicer than anything you could possibly afford.”

“No matter what he says, I’m not becoming Luo Binghe’s trophy wife.”

Shang Qinghua’s eyes widen. “Ooh, your student wanna be your daddy? He’s paying you to keep you around, is that it? Oh, that has to be it. Explains the weird evasiveness thing you’ve got going on. Never knew you had it in you. I’m impressed, really. Much better gig than my own. I wish my boss would pay me to lounge around on his expensive furniture. I’d be great at that. Plus, you know, it’s not like it’d be a hardship. Mobei-Jun is scorching. I’d be his arm candy any day. Maybe he’d be less likely to murder me that way.”

Shen Yuan longs desperately to return to the web novel he so cruelly abandoned to let his worst nightmare in. “I’d give you my job, but honestly Binghe deserves better.” Better than Shen Yuan, too. “At least you’re into men. Makes things easier.”

Shang Qinghua’s face falls. “Are you telling me you’re not into him? Like, at all? Why are you even here then? The money can’t be that good. Return to your parents and get them to arrange a marriage to a rich heiress. Same result, plus you’re attracted to your partner. Better?”

Shen Yuan flinches in horror. “No! Not better! My parents AND some spoiled brat who only cares about my name? Fuck no. Binghe is infinitely better than that!”

Shang Qinghua laughs. “So you do like him! Good for you! Go get him, tiger!”

“No! Well, yes I do, Binghe is very likable, but not like that!”

“Oh my god can you hear the shit that comes out of your mouth? Look, you obviously trust him enough to agree to be his live-in boy toy, and okay, I haven’t seen you in forever, but whatever you’re doing is visibly agreeing with you. What were you doing anyway? It’s not like Luo Binghe is here most of the day.”

Shen Yuan shrugs. “Catching up on my reading, mostly.”

Shang Qinghua chokes. “Fuck you. He’s paying you to read? While I’m still trying to get pay to write? I hate you with every single atom of my being.”

“Wait, you’re still writing? Please tell me you’ve upgraded genre, at least.”

“Well…”

“Oh god show me now so I can change your mind before you waste even more of your life on this trash,” says Shen Yuan like he hadn’t caved and spent Luo Binghe’s hard-earned money on extras for novels he hates.

___________________

Luo Binghe is caught completely off guard by the loud voices echoing in his home. Even with Laoshi here, silence is what usually he’s greeted with.

Today, Shen Yuan’s voice is alight with what sounds like righteous anger. He can’t quite place the second one.

Luo Binghe follows the call like a sailor freed from his bonds.

He finds Shen-laoshi half-draped over his chair, Mobei-Jun’s lackey sitting at the desk Luo Binghe had bought for his teacher alone, both of them apparently enraptured with an argument about… bad literature?

Luo Binghe wishes he could be pleased with the sight of Shen-laoshi being this animated, but he can’t. He’s not the one who caused it. This little, insignificant man did, to the point that neither of them noticed his approach.

Luo Binghe taps Shen Yuan’s shoulder. “Laoshi.”

Both of them turn toward him, but only Shen-laoshi gets Luo Binghe’s tongue down his throat.

He is very pleased with the outraged look on his teacher’s face. “Binghe! Not in front of the guest!”

The interloper jumps out of Laoshi’s chair. “Guest? What guest? There is no guest, no one here’s. In fact, I should have left hours ago, oh god Mobei-Jun is going to kill me. Shen Yuan, please give Luo Binghe the envelope, sorry for bothering you both, talk to you later, gotta go byyyye!”

Luo Binghe watches the little man flee in terror with satisfaction. Good riddance.

Let’s see him try to contest Luo Binghe’s claim now. “How does Laoshi know Mobei-Jun’s personal assistant?”

“We studied together in college.”

Luo Binghe pouts. How could an old friend of Shen-laoshi find him here? “Were you two close?”

Shen Yuan shrugs. “Not especially. Why do you ask?”

That can’t be true. They were so at ease around each other. It can take Luo Binghe hours to get Shen-laoshi this relaxed.

He stays silent.

Shen Yuan stares at him. “Binghe.”

“…Yes?”

“I realise this is going to sound ridiculous, and for that I’m sorry, but are you.., jealous? Of Shang Qinghua?”

Luo Binghe might be pouting harder. “No. Why would I be jealous of one of Shen-laoshi’s friends he never told me about.”

A (very cute) smile appears shows up on Shen Yuan’s face. “You. Luo Binghe. Are jealous of Shang Qinghua.”

He dares to laugh! It’s not funny!

This time, Luo Binghe is definitely pouting harder.

“Binghe. Binghe. You’re you. Shang Qinghua is… Shang Qinghua. What do you have to be jealous about? He’s just Shang Qinghua! Come back to your senses!”

Well, that does cheer Luo Binghe right up. “Shen-laoshi likes me better!”

Shen Yuan rolls his eyes. “Of course I do.”

Luo Binghe’s chest remains warm for the rest of the day.

[tooruluv]

Tooru Oikawa x F!Reader ( part 7 )

❝ my love for him is much like winter, a skeleton for the world to see. too bad he never liked the cold. ❞

description: being the neighbor and lifelong best friend of tooru oikawa definitely had it’s perks. you were never an outcast, always had a seat at lunch, got into volleyball games for free. the problem was, however, that being in love with him outweighed those perks. you would never tell him that, though, even if it hurt like hell.

genre: best friends to lovers, angst, unrequited love, fluff if you squint hard enough

word count: 2,184

warnings/notes: um.. haha?

tag list: @afuckingunicornn​​​ @maii-flowers​​​ @clandestinerays​​​ @brownandchill​​​ @readeretal​​​ @wedojustbevibin​​​ @shigarakiskitten​​​ @shittykawaa​​​ @saeranoppa​​ @srirachibi​​ @tpwkatsumu​ @sempiternal-amour​ @bokutos-h0e​ @pinknugget​ @intheawks​

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“Oh.”

You couldn’t look at her. How could you? You felt her eyes stare into your head, but you focused all of your attention onto your hands as though they would help you escape the most awkward conversation you’ve ever had.

“You’re in love with Tooru.” Sana said, as a statement rather than question. You didn’t move, frozen. “Oh my god, and I’ve been a total bitch! I asked you on a double date… oh! Oh no, I totally just said he doesn’t like you back…”

“You’re not wrong.” You let out a small (and very emotionless) chuckle. You finally looked up at her.

“Seriously I cannot believe you are letting me be your friend when I’m dating the man you’ve been seriously in love with. What does that make me?”

“A girl who’s dating a guy who likes her back.” You told her.

The thing was, you weren’t mad at Sana. You never had an ill thought toward her. Yet, Sana was so guilty about something she (1) couldn’t control, and (2) had no idea about. You wanted to hate her, yes, but you didn’t. And Oikawa was your best friend.

“Sana, stop.” You cut her off in the middle of another rant as Sana continued about how mad she would’ve been and asking you again why you didn’t tell her about your love for the boy. “Sana! I don’t care! Truly. I told you when we first met that you had my full approval. Oikawa likes you, and I like you, and I seriously would’ve rather died than have this conversation.”

Sana gave you a look, then looked at Iwaizumi, and then back to you.

“How long have you been in love with him?”

You faked a smile. “That seems to be the question of the decade, huh?”

Tooru Oikawa showed up at your house for the first time in what seemed like forever. It was after the other two had left, and you were just lounging around (and just got off of facetime with Kuroo, which is beside the point).

“Hi.” He smiled as you swung the door open. “Please tell me that I can stay the night.”

You smiled, instantly forgetting about anything else. Because Oikawa was back to being the Oikawa you knew, and he was standing in front of you asking to stay the night.

“You can stay the night.”

You remember the very first time that Oikawa had slept in your bed with you. As kids, it never really counted, and your parents did their best to make sure the both of you slept in either separate beds or on blankets on the floor.

But, one night, Oikawa had showed up in the middle of the night. You were both still kids, basically right before puberty. He was soaking wet from rain. 

“Oikawa?” You turned your head. He grew a lot that summer. “What are you doing here?”

“I hate the lightning.” He admitted, stepping in and taking his (very wet) shoes. “Can I sleep here? My brother keeps teasing me.”

“Of course! O.M.G! We can have a sleepover. I have chocolate in my room.” 

He followed you up the stares, the both of you giggling and ready to stay up the entire night. You both lied, though, as you fell asleep before midnight. You woke up in his arms.

Sana was still your friend, you assumed. After she left, she never told you that she wanted time or space or anything of the sort. You figured that you’ve held your feelings down for this long and she noticed and it didn’t bother her.

It would’ve bothered you if you found out a friend was in love with your boyfriend.

Still, you were surprised when Sana linked her arm with yours at school. She still sent you her shining smile, waited for you before class, and talked nonsense.

“Sana, I’m confused.” You told her. She was grabbing her books out of her locker and you were standing beside her. She didn’t speak, so you continued. “I… I’m in love with your boyfriend. And you’re… you seem to be okay with the whole thing.”

“You’ve been in love with him for longer than I’ve known him.” Sana turned to you, the most serious you have ever witnessed from her. “Who am I to be mad about that? And I like our friendship, even if it did start with him.”

“You… you’re probably the coolest person ever. Actually.”

“I try to be.” Sana shut her locker, finally giving you a smile. “I’m not one to be jealous, but if this becomes some kind of kdrama I might have to use your weaknesses against you.”

“I can agree to that.”

You ate in the cafeteria for the first time in a long time. Iwaizumi and Matsukawa sat to the right of you at the circle tables, and Oikawa on your left. It felt normal. The only thing was, Sana was nowhere to be found.

“Where’s Sana?” You asked Oikawa after a little bit, to which he shrugged.

“I don’t know. She said that she had something to do.”

You looked at Iwaizumi, as if he always had the answers you searched for, but he only gave you a confused look. Hm.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

You and Oikawa stood in the hallway, arm’s length away and walking in opposite directions. It was after lunch and before class, the perfect time to have an awkward conversation.

“You never stopped wearing my jersey. I saw you in it last game.” He said, sending you his priceless smile.

“I plan on wearing it again tonight. If that’s okay.”

“It’s always okay.” He kept smiling, but you could see it was a little more forced than usual. “I shouldn’t have ever asked you for it.”

“If you start to apologize again, I will punch you in the face. In front of everyone here.” You told him.

His hands came out of his pockets, reaching to you. “Deal. Oh! By the way, your tie is crooked.”

You gasped, looking to your chest, only to find your tie in perfect condition.

“Make you look.”

“You child!” You laughed, smacking his arm. He laughed too, sticking his tongue out at you.

Suzuki Sana had been dating Tooru Oikawa, officially, for a month. She liked it, for the most part. He adored her, truly, and made her laugh more than ever. He also happened to be a good kisser, something she would never admit.

The only thing was, she felt way closer to you than she did with Oikawa. Not in the same ways, of course, but it was true. She wasn’t expecting to be such close friends with you so quickly.

Sana tried her best not to be jealous, or upset, about you being in love with Oikawa. But it was hard. She was a lot of things but a jealous girlfriend was not one of them. Until she watched you and Oikawa talk.

It was just a small conversation between you and him, a short one in the hallway after lunch, but it was like a spotlight shone directly on the two of you and made everyone else disappear. She could almost see the love dripping off of your face when you smiled at something he said to you. And she definitely didn’t miss the way Oikawa looked at you with stars in his eyes.

So, yeah. That’s when something changed and Sana knew what to do.

There was only one fight between Tooru Oikawa and you that resulted in multiple days of no speaking. And it was your fault. It was something stupid, but it was important.

When you were young (probably around nine or ten), you had accidentally ripped Oikawa’s permission form to go to a volleyball summer camp. It was only a couple of weeks during the summer where he would be away, and they needed to turn in the paper by mail.

Oikawa was mad at you for two full days. He yelled at you, thought that you ripped it on purpose because you didn’t want him to go. You didn’t want him to go, of course, but the rip was on accident.

He apologized on the third day. And spent the rest of the summer forcing you to play volleyball with him. By the end, you still didn’t completely understand the sport.

You have known Oikawa your entire life, your parents being best friends since their high school days. It wasn’t unusual for your parents to have dinner together and leave “the children” (you) to hang out while they’re away.

It was one of those nights, and Oikawa was trying to convince you to throw some serves for him in the backyard. You sat on the porch, next to Oikawa’s older brother, refusing to do so.

“So, I hear you have been dating someone lately.” Oikawa’s brother turned to you, a mischievous smile plastered on his face. Oikawa froze from his position, ball in hand. You didn’t notice. “Tell me the details.”

“I… I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You told him, face flushed.

“Ah! You’re so flustered right now!” He teased you. “Who is he?”

“No one. I’m not dating anyone.” You crossed your arms. You looked at Oikawa, trying to gauge his reaction. He had his back turned to you.

Oikawa’s brother noticed your focus, and you swore his grin got wider. “I see. You’re not over it.”

“Not over it.” You replied, both of you sharing a secret as old as time.

Tetsurou Kuroo had facetimed you one day after school, before one of Seijoh’s games. It was a filler game, one that didn’t count towards championships, but you were excited to go to a game when everything was back to normal.

“Hello, jersey.” He greeted through the phone. He was laying in bed, one arm under his head. You had a very thirsty thought, but you will keep that to yourself. You didn’t like Kuroo that way.

“Hello, hair.” You joked back, pointing out his hair (which was flat and on his face and not done per usual).

“Why are you still at school? The game doesn’t start for like half an hour.”

“I forgot something in my locker.” You told him, turning the corner towards your locker. “And my mom dropped me off before going to run some errands, so I’m here early.”

Kuroo talked to you for a minute about something volleyball related, and then something about something else you couldn’t remember, before you ended up at your locker.

The lockers were a bit shorter than the ceiling, so there was a space between the top of the locker. Right above yours was a blue athletic water bottle with an “O” on it. You chuckled, rolling your eyes, reaching up to grab it (using a shelf in your locker after not being able to reach).

“Hey, Kuroo, do you mind if I call you back later?”

“Yeah, cool. Talk to you later?”

You smiled at him from your camera. “I’ll probably text you during the game.”

He smiled and waved you goodbye. You clicked the end button as you twirled the full water bottle in your hand.

You walked into the gym, towards the boys who collected around the chairs by the coach. The minute you seen the back of Oikawa’s head, you knew that he wasn’t the happiest.

It was like the cheerful Oikawa from earlier had vanished.

“Hey, ‘Kawa…” you started, but before you could get any closer or say anything else, he pivoted.

His eyes met yours, and he was livid. The air was immediately tense.

“Dude can you fucking leave me alone for one minute?” Oikawa deadpanned. He was angry, his voice loud enough to cause most of the crowd to go silent to listen in. You froze in place. “Seriously, get off the court and let me play this fucking game without worrying about you. You know Sana broke up with me because of you? Did you know that? You always have to have some kind of interference for literally everything good happening in my life. Why don’t you go? Leave me be? You don’t even fucking like volleyball.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, and your voice caught in your throat. You couldn’t move. You blinked.

“God, it’s so fucking annoying. I get it, you’re in love with me or whatever, but Jesus Christ dude find someone else to follow. ”

You swallowed. Not only did your heart shatter, but he also pointed every insecurity you had. Annoying him, being a bother… You couldn’t breathe. He knew. Of course he knew. How could he not know?

“Yeah, okay.” Your voice was small, and you were surprised that it didn’t waver. You held the waterbottle to him, hands shaking. “I was just bringing you your water bottle. You left it on top of my locker.”

You placed the water bottle on the ground next to the coach before walking out of the gym doors, and then sprinting down the hall.

[angryschnauzer]

What about if ghost mike took a liking to you and when you were getting harassed by some guys he "stepped in"?

Oh wow this one really got away from me! There’s something about Mike that makes me just want to hug him and make everything better. Thank you for this ask!

Warnings: Ghosts, potential assault, Mike saving the day. Canon-fix-it ficlet.

From the moment you moved into the tiny apartment you knew it wasn't going to be your forever home. Strange chills would cross over your skin when you would least expect it, the seemingly nice neighbourhood was far from it with regular arguments and fights breaking out between tenants or people just out on the street, and it got to the point where you didn't leave the apartment at night for what crept unknown in the hallways.

Your thesis was almost done, your final year of your Doctorate on religious texts and the only merit of not leaving the apartment in the evenings meant extra time to study and complete your work. You sat at your desk typing furiously, on a roll with your thoughts and your work when a sudden chill ran up your forearm giving you goosebumps;

"Fuck" you cursed, screwing your eyes shut as you tried to will the train of thought back to your mind, but to no avail. Finally with a sigh you pushed your chair back and stood, deciding to make yourself a hot cocoa.

Warming the milk in a pan on the stove you wrapped your cardigan tighter around your body as you stared out of the window that overlooked the street, before something moved in the periphery of your vision. A young man bending over your laptop, his lips moving as he silently read what you had written. In shock you gasped and turned, but to an empty apartment. Shaking your head you laughed to yourself; you had spent so long writing about spirits you were now seeing them.

Going back to your stove you finished making your drink before returning to your computer, working late into the night now you were re-energised in your mind.

-

Your Professor had been very complimentary of your latest work, and how you had led the Freshman and Sophomore students in theological discussions about spirits and souls, almost as if you had a new understanding of them. 

Continuing to work on your thesis you spent long nights and quiet weekends busy at your computer, but reminded yourself to take a break now and again. One such evening the words hadn't come, so abandoning the screen you’d lit some candles, poured yourself a glass of wine and had curled up on the couch beneath a blanket to read. You were deep in the world of your book when you were aware of your computer screen coming to life, the screensaver ending and your unfinished work on screen. As you looked up you saw him, this time sitting sideways to the desk on your chair where you’d left it. 

He was young, no more than 25, and dressed a little outdated in baggy jeans, hoodie, and a leather jacket, his dark hair curly and trying its best to hang in the mid 2000’s style of curtains. A fear shot through your body, rooting you to the spot and you held your breath; watching waiting… but he continued to read, biting his lip as if deep in thought; he had no idea you’d noticed him. The longer you looked the more real he seemed, no longer transparent but the colours of the apparition deepening.

“I can see you, you know” your voice was quiet yet it startled him, he turned in fright and disappeared right before your eyes. 

Crossing the room you pressed your hand to the chair, stilling it as it span slightly before sitting down, your writer's block now long gone. Your thesis was certainly getting jump started again thanks to your spectral visitor.

-

A week later it was a quiet weekend, no saturday classes, no additional work needed on your thesis until the last few books you’d requested from the campus library were returned. Snow fell outside your window and you stayed curled up in bed, dozing in the quiet morning. 

As the pipes in the building bubbled you finally woke properly, and you saw him, standing in the doorway.

“Don’t be scared” you said quietly, watching as he quietly laughed before raking his hand through his curls;

“Shouldn’t i be saying that to you?”

His voice was quiet, but deeper than you imagined.

“Do you know why you are here?”

He shook his head.

“Are you drawn to something? Did you die here?”

Again he shook his head;

“I can’t remember”

“What do you remember?”

“That my name is Mike” he looked down, almost bashfully; “You realise one tit is hanging out of your top?”

Glancing down you saw your cami had shifted in your sleep and you were now showing far more than you realised, letting out a laugh as you adjusted yourself, but when you looked up he was gone.

Calling out you smiled;

“Thanks for the tip… or should i say tit?”

You heard what could only be described as a chuckle, but he didn’t reappear.

-

Over the following days and weeks, Mike would appear occasionally. Once when you were reaching for something on a high shelf you’d turned to get a box to stand on only to discover the packet on the countertop and him standing next to it with a smile on his face before disappearing again. You became at ease with his presence, your skin chilling as you recognised the signs that he had appeared in the room. He still didn’t talk much but you’d managed to get a few lines of conversation out of him. It almost felt like having a presence to welcome you home, not a pet, but a silent roommate that didn’t bother you because you’d work different shifts.

After one particularly long day on campus, staying late after class to help the Sophomores with their midterms, having to stop for groceries on the way home, it was well past dark before your bus had pulled up outside your apartment building. Juggling your groceries, your backpack, and your keys, you stopped at your mailbox as you could see mail jammed into it, cursing as your cold fingers struggled to work with the tiny key when you heard a cough behind you. Glancing over your shoulder you saw the tall burly figure of a man, and you stepped closer to the mailbox;

“Sorry, won’t be a moment”

“Don’t you worry sweetheart, we can wait…”

You stopped, the fear bubbling up in your throat as you turned and saw that he wasn’t alone, two other men now standing behind him;

“A nice little treat to be found out after dark…”

You turned your back to the mailboxes, pulling close to them as you backed away and the three men started to advance like a pack of wolves, when suddenly another figure appeared in the doorway;

“Mike!” you called out, and the three men turned in surprise.

“Oh, your little boyfriend appears just in time? Don’t you worry about him, he can just watch”

It was then that you heard Mike’s voice, strong and loud in the small hallway;

“Babe, shut your eyes and don’t open them until i say so, ok?” he paused and looked directly at you; “Ok?”

You nodded and screwed your eyes shut, trembling as you hear the three men start towards Mike, but then you could hear them stop;

“What the fuck?”

“HOLY SHIT!”

“RUN, GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!”

A strange gurgling noise came from the end of the hallway and you felt the rush of air as the three men pushed past you. Opening your eyes you gasped when you saw Mike. 

“I said don’t open your eyes!”

“Stop” His voice gurgled as he spoke.

You stepped towards him, the sight almost unbearable but now you understood;

“I can see what happened to you…” you paused; “And i’m not running away”

-

 Stepping in the door of your apartment you juggled the bags and held the door for Mike, before you smiled;

“Do i even need to hold this open for you, or could you just walk straight through it?”

He glanced at you and rolled his eyes, not saying anything.

“I would offer you to get cleaned up, but i have no idea how to clean a ghost up”

You set the groceries on the counter and turned, surprised to see Mike standing close to you, his injuries gone and his face and stomach back to normal;

“Oh!”

“I guess you just had to look away and i reset somehow” he muttered, his body sagging as if exhausted.

“This may sound strange, but do you need to rest? I would imagine what you did took a lot of energy…”

“I don’t like to sleep… the memories come back when i do…”

“Why don’t i rest with you?”

Reaching out you managed to grasp his hand, gently leading him to your bedroom and watching as he lay back against the soft covers, a tired smile on his face as he watched you climb in beside him;

“When i was alive it was never this easy to get a girl into bed with me” he murmured, his eyes drooping. 

“Just rest Mike, i’ll be right beside you… i’ll protect you the same way you protected me”

Leaning forwards you brushed your lips to his, and it felt like wet sand pulling away from you as the tide pulled back to sea. Resting your head on the pillow you felt your own eyes grow heavy, and as you watched Mike fall asleep the same happened to you.

-

Rain hit the window as you slowly woke, the unfamiliar feeling of a warm presence beside you in bed startling you as you sat bolt upright, looking on in shock as Mike slept peacefully beside you. His chest would rise and fall with each breath, and with a shaking hand you reached out and rested your palm against him and could feel the warmth of his body. Eyes wide in wonder you reached to his neck, pressing two fingers to the side and you felt the steady and strong beat of his heart. 

He woke with a gasp, inhaling as if he had been winded and sat up, his eyes wide as he grasped your hand in his own;

“How are you touching me?”

“Y-you’re real” He looked down, watching as your hand pressed against his chest; “and you’re alive”

You leapt at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you straddled his lap, laughing with tears of joy starting to spill down your cheeks before finally pulling back, your mouths so close you could feel the others breath hot on your skin.

“When i was alive… i mean before… i was an ass”

You shrugged;

“Most dudes in their 20’s are”

“And i thought i was god’s gift to women too, but was far from it”

“How about we leave the opinions of gods to the one of us that is the Theological major? As whatever happened here, we have someone to thank and it certainly isn’t Earth bound”

He smiled, and for the first time you noticed that in the blue of his eyes there was a tiny spec of brown. His voice was quiet;

“Can I kiss you?”

Nodding you edged forwards, the touch of his lips this time was soft and warm, and as the kiss deepened the two of you slowly fell back onto the bed, your bodies warm against each others as clothing was shed and bodies were explored.

Mike had a lot to catch up on, twenty years after life had ended for him you were now there to help him start it back up again.

[kojinnie]

tis is ranon! i wanna try the twisted match-up eventho it'll probably hurts. my worst traits would be

1. Not knowing myself well enough, having to ask others how i actually am from their eyes instead of looking through my own lense because I care of other's judgement better than mine.

2. I suck at handling compliment. Everytime anybody says anything good about me, I always get defensive by saying no, change the topic of the conversation, or saying "thank you, but [insert why i don't deserve compliment]"

3. Similar to the 2nd one, I have horrible horrible self esteem. I never really look at myself in a good light, I think I am horrible. Sometimes I feel like "im the worst" yet some of the times I feel like "woah I'm a queen". Even worse, sometimes I don't have the motivation to better myself in order to raise my self esteem.

My favourite(s) would be reiner and jean, you can choose the one with the worst(or whoever you prefer) compatibility with my traits. tears up already as I slip 1 dollar to your hand, whispering happy ending please..

Pairing: Jean x Reader

Summary: You accidentally meet Jean, your high school sweetheart, thirteen years later. While he has turned into a successful man whose face you'd see on TV a lot, you think of your life and what could have been with him, if only...

Tags: Angst/Fluff, coming of age, slice of life

Word Count: 3.6K

A/N: Oh Ranon my sweet child, hereby I present to thee... hopefully an antidote to the despair Yams had given us with 138. Hope you like it love!

Song mentioned: Linger by The Cranberries

"It's nice to see a familiar face 'round here."

There was no word that could describe the feelings you had upon hearing that voice. A voice that was once the first sound you hear in the morning and the one you say goodbye to before falling asleep. A voice that you had not heard for what felt like forever.

You didn't have to turn around to tell who it was, "Jean?"

The two of you erupted in laughter, both surprised by the mere coincidence of meeting each other at this old and ran-down department store, on the outskirt of the town you both grew up in.

Jean was quick to pull you into a big embrace that you gladly came into. A familiar piece of warmth was his hug, and yet it had struck you as odd that it did not feel foreign at the closest, although it had been years since the last time you met him.

Jean had grown very tall. There was no longer his signature undercut as he had let his hairs to grow past his ear. His chiseled jaw hid beneath dark brown beard he now had. You pretended to check him out and be shocked with the view, "You really grew! Like grew, GREW!" as if you hadn't seen him on the news station or the daily mail. As if you didn't follow his Instagram with your second account. As if you never thought of him at all.

He held your shoulder and pulled away to look at you, "Thirteen years and you don't look any different."

Your face grew hot and the compliment sent an uncanny discomfort to your guts, "Ah the lighting sucks here - to my advantage, fortunately."

There was a disapproving look in Jean's eyes for a passing moment before he carried on with the conversation. He didn't expect to see you at the old department store the two of you used to roam in after school, he said. Neither did you to ever meet him again, especially here. A place so awfully ordinary for someone who had grown to be the best version of himself. Jean had finally achieved his dream to be a household name in the country as one of the rising young attorneys.

The celebrity status he had achieved, all the actresses and models he had dated - it all inflicted you with some kind of inexplicable pain. One that made you feel worthless, to say the least. Someone who used to be so close to your heart, had grown so magnificently, leaving you with the painful fate of being ordinary. Yet, still your face lit up in distant pride each time a mention of Jean’s name surfaced, be it from the passing conversation your friend had, or to see it announced by the news anchor for some big public case he was working on.

Jean said that he returned home for a funeral. His uncle died, and he needed a spare sandal. He didn't know any other store, as the area both of you grew up in had changed a lot. Leaving this old department store the only place he could remember.

You passed your condolence but he was more curious with what you were up to. You chuckled because he seemed so serious when he asked, "Didn't you move out to the city? Why the hell are you coming back?" as if the misplacement of seeing someone so glitzy in this boring, dilapidated town didn't apply to him.

So you answered, and Jean turned silent for a moment. He tilted his head downward, and you noticed that he was the same person with the same mannerism. Although he was no longer the 17-year-old boy who used to get all ruffed up in school fight, trying to defend you from some stupid jocks; nor was he still the tall, lanky kid from your Home Economics class that you gave your first kiss to.

Your mind couldn’t help but to race to all the what-ifs, and the presence of Jean before your eyes right now only made the wonderings more palpable.

Jean smiled faintly to your answer, “Congratulations,” he still made his way to pat the side of your head, something he used to do every time, “big step, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s scary.”

“So, who’s the lucky guy? Anyone I know from school?” Jean said, faking the enthusiasm in his tone, but you didn’t notice. Because in your mind, it would be an absurd idea to think that you would still have the tiniest bit of effect on Jean, for he had outgrown all the memories he ever had with you.

“No, no,” you tried to mask the bitterness that suddenly emerged on the back of your tongue, “we met at work. He’s a great guy.”

Indeed, he was. The reason why you returned home was because you were getting married, and your fiancée wanted to be close with your family, for he didn’t have one growing up. He was an exceptional man, he had this magnetism in him, with the way he perceived things, to the abiding tenacity he had in him.

Your fiancée was a man you knew you could lean on in the eye of adversity. That’s why you agreed to marry him. But then again, there was always a void inside your heart that had no resolve to it for so many years. Your fiancée was your foundation, and yet, perhaps selfishly, you still yearned for the childish laughter and the irreplaceable feeling of freedom you once had with the man standing tall before you. Whose glance never failed to make you feel the most at ease with.

“He must be a pretty great guy to get you,” Jean’s faint smile grew into a grin, he was trying to down play the commotion he started to feel within his chest, “what’s his name? So, I can picture him.”

You laughed, because it was only natural for you to do so in the presence of the first guy you had fallen for, the first guy to ever told you how pretty you were and how all your imperfections never mattered to him, the first one to bring your teary face into his embrace after a gruesome day, before saying, ‘I never thought it’s possible. But, crazy, seeing you cry hurts me too.’

However, you knew, that all those memories had passed by and you were happy with where you were now. “Reiner,” you smiled at the mention of his name, “my fiancée’s name is Reiner Braun. He’s… amazing.”

“Wow. Tough name. Probably someone I’d stay clear from in high school.”

Both of you laughed, and the two of you continued to talk, as you walked him through the desolated alleys to find the sandal that he wanted to buy, and Jean walking you to the towel aisle that you had meant to buy one for Reiner, only to find out that they had stopped selling towels since long time ago. The laughter and reminiscing persisted until the cashier row when Jean heard your stomach grumble. Both of you exchanged glances and broke into yet another laughter.

“Salerno’s?” Jean said, suggesting the pizza place off the highway, where you had spent so many dates with him back then.

“How could I ever say no to that?”

“Settled, then. Did you drive here?” Jean’s eyes gazed afar to the parking lot, strangely looking for the old car you used to drive back in school, before realizing that thirteen years had passed and there was no chance that sickly car could ever survive the time.

“No, actually Reiner dropped me and—” As if staged by the universe, your phone rung and Reiner was calling, “—right in time, it’s him!”

You walked away from Jean for a moment as he looked for his car key inside jacket. Across the line, Reiner was gruntling, his voice was hazy, “Babe—”

“Reiner, I bumped into an old friend!” there was a sing-songy tone in your words. Through the phone, Reiner chuckled, picking up the excitement in your voice, even though it was getting more apparent that Reiner was drowsy, “Anyway babe, can you get an Uber? I took the cough syrup your mum gave me, and now I’m sleepy as fuck. ‘Fraid I won’t be able to drive.”

You turned to Jean and saw him jingling his car key at you, before returning back to Reiner on the phone, “Rei, I think my friend can drive me home. I’ll be stopping at Salerno’s, do you want anything? The calzone maybe?”

Reiner yawned, “That sounds nice but—” yet another yawn, “I’m gonna pass out. Come home soon, okay? Tuck me in.”

You cackled at the buff man whining before you said goodbye and followed Jean into his car.

The trip to Salerno’s was nourishing with memories. The poplar trees along the avenue had been replaced by lines of billboards – from advertisement of real estate agent to divorce attorney, they all reminded you of how much the town had changed. Yet the sense of comfort you shared with Jean as you joked about all of the absurd things you saw along the way, had not changed at all.

If for one second you forgot that you were driving in Jean’s expensive car, and that you imagined he was wearing a shabby soccer jersey instead of a tailored-fit shirt – if you closed your eyes and thought that thirteen years hadn’t gone by between the two of you, it almost felt like you rode a time machine to a time when Jean was yours and you were his. And something about the thought of it just broke your heart.

When Jean pulled over at Salerno’s and found out that it’s past the time for dine-in, the two of you decided to eat at his car instead. Jean didn’t even ask what you want and he returned with exactly what you had in mind, the classic calzone, something you always used to have. He remembered.

The two of you laughed, bantered and joked at each other. It felt almost as if no distance had ever been laid out between the two of you, like you hadn’t lived an entirely different life, like he was the same person after all. He hadn’t once made you self-conscious like you thought you would, considering the amount of success he had attained for himself. You felt bad for accusing Jean of the worst, when all it was just a projection of your own insecurity.

“So, you’re getting married on the 15th, and your annoying aunt is not invited?”

“Yeah, thank God for the pandemic somehow. Legit excuse, when all I wanted was not to have her talk shit about Reiner on my wedding day,” you munched through your calzone, talking mindlessly, “as for you, sir, you’re invited. That’s a no-brainer. Hereby I invite thee to my humble dwelling. Bring your model girlfriend, please, so I can brag to my cousins.”

His grin subsided into a weak smile and then into nothing at all, as he sipped on his coke. Suddenly awkward silence loomed within the small space of his car.

“Jean,” you shifted in your seat as the guilt grew on you, realizing the error in your judgment, “sorry I was being presumptuous.”

“No worries, it wasn’t serious. None of it ever was.”

You nodded, engulfed in your own guilt for bringing a bad topic up. The silence let the radio’s murmur to become noticeable, and an old song had just been played through the local radio, a tune that you used to listen with him on the back of your old creaking car after a make-out session filled with enraging teenage hormones.

And I’m in so deep~

You know I’m such a fool for you~

You got me wrapped around your finger I—

Do you have to let it linger?

You sighed and finally looked at Jean with his head hanging low, “Do you want to settle down someday?”

“Eventually.” Jean answered nonchalantly, “Not even sure about the whole relationship thingy.”

“Oh.” An acknowledgment you voiced, before succumbing to yet another silence.

Jean called your name softly and when you turned to face him, he was looking at you. Even in the darkness of the parking lot, you could see his honey eyes gleamed in a look that was so familiar to you—a look of disappointment, “Tell me, how could you never end up working where you’ve always wanted to be?”

You were pulled even deeper into your silence as you looked away. Suddenly a hot rash of sadness started to swallow you whole, “I—”

You tried to voice out a tangible reason, but you had realized that all of it was your own doing. Your insecurity, your self-consciousness, the thought that you were never good enough for the thing you once wanted so bad; all of it led to a life unlived, and to have someone finally putting you in your place was embarrassing, if not painful, “—wasn’t sure if I really wanted it and—”

“—wasn’t sure if I was good enough to pass the test.”

“So, after college, you never ended up applying there? Not even a try?”

You shook your head embarrassed, looking down at your shoes.

Jean sighed and laid his food on the dashboard, before reaching for your right hand and held it warmly into his grasp. He called your name which propelled you to look back at him, “Weren’t you the one who talked me into getting into law school? Even when I thought it was impossible? Weren’t you the one who wrote on my yearbook to-my-future-attorney when everyone was convinced that I’d end up working a mediocre office job? Or a mechanic in my Dad’s shop?”

Jean carried on, “I just… I just don’t understand. How could you have so much conviction for other people but—but yourself?”

You passed a grim smile, as vulnerability started to catch up with you, “Nevermind Jean, it’s passed. I am where I am now.”

“But, wasn’t it your dream?” Jean grew antsy on his seat, it was obvious that he truly didn’t understand, “The pages and pages and pages of diary you wrote about wanting to work there? What happened?”

You sighed, running out of words to say, until you caved in, “Maybe I never knew what I truly wanted.”

“Is that why?” Jean shot another look at you, there was an intensity in his eyes that you had never seen before. There you wondered what had happened to Jean’s life in all those years passed at your absence, had he led a difficult life before getting the success he was enjoying now? “Is that why you left me—because you didn’t know what you truly want?”

Jean understood the consequence of his action, he was a well-accomplished attorney after all. He also understood the vivid pain painted all over your face, but he was taking his shot. Years of wondering where had you gone, what kind of live had you lived – you never ceased to haunt him, all the what-ifs with you he always thought about whenever he broke off yet another meaningless relationship with yet another woman he’d never cared for in his life. Over the years, he’d taken a close look at you. He’d find you on the internet, he’d asked about you to friends of a friend that was still in touch with you, he’d ‘accidentally’ found your legal documents just to see that you had gotten your college degree one year earlier than him. He didn’t know why the thought of you lingered, you just did. Arriving into his dreams where he was seventeen again and unassuming, only for him to wake up disappointed at seeing a woman that wasn’t you in his bed.

For the longest time, Jean had fended for himself to be where he’s now. When survival had finally bore fruits, what else could there be for him? Still, he felt lonely in the embrace of another woman, still he felt the void persisted even if he spent his money on things he didn’t need. Jean never thought, that after years of dreaming to be the person he’s now, all he yearned for was to have a piece of simple, ordinary and innocent happiness he once had with you.

You were, after all, the only thing that could remind him of the innocence Jean had lost after years of grueling work as an attorney—seeing how corrupt and insidious men can be. So, when his wearied eyes landed on the sight of you this evening, in the alley of that long-forgotten Department Store, Jean had no choice but to finally face his haunting.

“Jean, it’s a long time ago,” you smile, cupping his hand with your free hand, “besides, I’m no longer your type, right?” A grin, a playful grin, painfully fabricated and Jean saw right through it.

You could feel the air had gotten thick in his car, and you shifted closer to the door. Jean let go of your hand as he moved closer to you, running his long fingers through your hair. His voice had gotten deep and you could sense a hint of pain in his words, “Maybe I never had a type.”

He dragged his gaze all over your face; your eyes, your nose, your lips – the way he used to reassure that you were so beautiful in his eyes despite the self-hate you inflicted upon yourself, “Maybe all I ever wanted was you and all I ever did with those girls was to try finding you in them,” he forced a smile, so stale, so painful, “to no avail.”

You could feel the air into your lung was compromised as you battled the tears, “Jean…”

“Out of so many things that I have been brave for, I was never brave enough for one thing that I needed the most: to tell you that it’s always been you,” Jean slithered his hands through your waist and pulled you into his embrace. He laid his head, heavy with loneliness and exhaustion on to the nook of your shoulder. For lack of better term, Jean was finally back home, as he muttered, letting go of all his inhibitions, “Baby, it’s always been you. It’s always been you.”

Your whole body was weak with emotions. The thoughts, the persistent ones – the what-ifs you could have had with Jean, the life you could have lived and the dream that could have been fulfilled. Without your permission, the tears fell to your dismay as you thought of one last thing remaining in your heart: Reiner. The way he smiled and listened all through your nightly despairs, caressing you close until you fell asleep, exhausted with tears dried up all over your face. The way Reiner whispered on to your ear, amidst your drowsiness, that he loved you and that he promised to make you whole, to fill the void you had always feared for. All the little things he had done without you asking, or the way he loved your family as if they were his own.

You cursed yourself for being surprised at how much you realized that you truly loved Reiner, even when you were in the embrace of someone you wondered about often. You realized, the best way to prove to someone that you love them was to stick around. And Reiner had stuck around, as much as you stuck around for him.

You left Jean long time ago for reasons you only vaguely remembered now, but life went on and sooner or later you should make it in your heart to accept it. You smiled and thought of your life. Sure, there was a lot of thing you need to patch up, but what is life if not persevering?

You pulled away from Jean, surprised to see a beaten look on his face. Far away from the dandy and sharp young attorney you would see on the news. Once, you loved this man, but years had passed and the one he wanted was no longer there. You were no longer the person you were thirteen years ago. You were no longer the girl Jean longed for, all he wished for was a passing ghost that you have left behind in your adolescence.

You caressed his cheek for the last time and landed a kiss to his forehead, “Jean, I’m so proud of you. How far you have gone. I’m sorry I wouldn’t be the one you’d share your future achievement with, but for all the things you have done to me, for seeing the good in me when I could hardly see it… I want to say thank you,” you smiled although pain was searing within your chest, “there’s a world out there where this would work out. But not this world.”

The unexpected rendezvous you had with the man whom you had given your first love to ended with both of you crying at each other’s embrace, until Salerno’s closed and turned off their lights.

When Jean finally dropped you at your childhood home, the place he used to spend all the times in, Jean smiled and pointed at your room with the lights still lit, “He’s waiting?”

“I think he’s asleep. He’s a deep sleeper, he forgets to turn off the lights every time.”

“Does he even fit in your tiny bed?”

“Well, you did fit.”

“For a time.”

“Yeah, for a time.”

“So, you’ll be Mrs. Braun?”

“Yep, Mrs. Braun I will be.”

Jean scoffed, pretending to be annoyed, but smiling nonetheless, “Lucky bastard, that Mr. Braun.”