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danses-with-dogmeat · 3 years

Note

Hey, I just found your blog and I really love your writing! Could you do the first time romanced male companions (specifically Danse, Gage, and Maccready) are shown very sweet, soft forms of affection (like caressing their face, playing with their hair, etc)?

(I noticed you havent written anything with Gage, so I understand if you dont do him btw :))

Romanced! Male! FO4 Companions react to the first time they are shown soft forms of affection.

Hi, did you order some teeth-rotting fluff? Maybe? Well, that's what you got. I honestly felt like it was only fair after the angst of my last post, so here you are my loves, enjoy!

If someone you want to see isn't on here, please let me know, cuz I would love to do all the companions for this amazing prompt at some point. And as far as Gage goes, I am totally willing to write for him, I've just never had him as a companion before, so I don't usually add him by default. Anyways, hopefully he isn't too out of character, I really tried to do some research into his character and dialogue and junk, but sometimes that can only get you so far. 🤷‍♀️

Any who, thank you so much for the ask! I loved this achingly sweet prompt!

Danse:

"Alright, let's get this all off of you." Sole knocked their hand against the front of Danse's power armor, noting the dents and holes littering the surface. He simply grunted in agreement as he took a few steps closer to the power armor station in the driveway of Sole's Sanctuary home.

"Look, I know you're more worried about your armor than you are yourself, but you took a lot of direct hits back there. I just want to make sure you're okay." Sole heard the distinct screech of hinges as Danse stepped out of his armor, and they took a quick look at him, eyes searching for any sign of blood on his flight suit. They gestured for him to accompany them into the house, and he followed close behind as they crossed the threshold into the living room. Sole pulled out a kitchen chair and waved to it, suggesting the ex-soldier take a seat, as they grabbed a couple of purified waters for the pair.

"Would it not also be wise to assess your wounds? I was the one wearing power armor, you were practically defenseless out there." He said as they approached him, clearly scrutinizing his form for any signs of injury.

"I was not, since you kept stepping in front of me every time I left my cover to take a shot. You took all the wounds for me." They told him as they gathered some of their meager medical supplies together on the kitchen table.

"Alright, come on soldier, you know the drill." Sole turned their attention from the table to him as he began to unzip the top of his flight suit, sighing exasperatedly and pulling the material off his shoulders, wrenching his arms free as he let the top of the suit fall to his waist. Though Sole had certainly seen the man shirtless before, he still didn't meet their gaze as they began to examine his chest and arms.

"Any points of concern?" They asked as they began their examination in earnest. His gaze shifted sideways in thought, before he shook his head.

They drew a hand over one large bruise on his chest, and felt him tense at the contact, inhaling sharply as Sole's hand moved to another spot of concern, further down on his abdomen. The man's battered body was littered with welts and bruises, but otherwise he seemed unhurt. Sole gave a sigh of relief, bringing their hand to rest on his arm. They opened their mouth to give him their verdict, but stopped abruptly as their fingers brushed a wetness on his bicep. Sole turned their attention to the spot, noticing the blood draining down the back of his arm beneath a bullet wound.

"Shit, one got you." They told him, grabbing a towel to dab at the wound. He hissed as the rough fabric brushed over the puncture in his arm, and Sole tried to soften their movements.

"It looks like it just grazed you, thankfully." They told him, as they inspected the wound, searching for any signs of an embedded bullet. "Why didn't you say anything? It must hurt."

"I don't know, it honestly doesn't feel much worse than a few of the others."

"Mhm, okay, whatever you say, tough guy." They smiled at him, eyebrows still creased upwards in concern, despite their teasing tone.

Sole treated the wound as best they could, but knew that staving off infection would be the hardest part of the healing process. As they glanced down at their handiwork, cream colored bandages wrapped around the bulk of his upper arm, Sole felt the need to express in some way that they had finished tending to him. Resting one hand on Danse's shoulder, they leaned their head in, pressing a light kiss to his arm, just above the wound itself. They felt him flinch away sharply in uncertainty at the action.

"Sorry," Sole whispered, "It's just something we used to do before the bombs fell. It always seemed to make me feel better, so I just--"

"No, wait." They heard him say softly, "I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that. Please. Keep going." A small smile spread to Sole's lips as they brought them down to his arm again. From there, they moved to the welt on his chest, then the one on his ribcage, and up to the bruise on his neck, their mouth pressing softly over the tender marks. As Sole's breath fanned warmly over his exposed skin, they couldn't help but grin slightly as they noticed small goosebumps begin to trail behind their soothing movements. Sole looked up as they heard a sigh escape Danse's mouth, and noticed that he had closed his eyes, a tranquil expression resting loosely on his face.

As they ran out of spots to draw their affection to, Sole found themself moving upwards, wondering if there were any areas of concern on his face. Perhaps… just this one area needed their attention. Sole brought their head forwards, pressing their lips to his own, and nearly laughed into the kiss as they saw his eyes fly open in surprise, only to flutter to a close once more as he relaxed into the contact. In the next moment, they pulled away from him, if only to catch a glimpse of the pink hue that was surely spreading over his cheeks, to find that they had miscalculated. The blush didn't stop at his cheeks, no, the crimson hue adorned his whole face, even going so far as to spread down to his chest, where it seemed to mask a few of the discolored bruises beneath his neck. Their eyes returned to meet his as they heard him clear his throat.

"So that, ah, will help the wounds heal at an accelerated rate?" Certainly that's not a smugness I hear in his voice, right?

"Oh, yes. Most definitely." They said with a playful grin.

"That's, ahem, that's good."

"So, perhaps we should … make this a regular appointment. At least until you've fully recovered."

"Yes. I think that would be… wise." He looked away sheepishly before turning his gaze back to them, an uncharacteristic glint of mischief shining in his honey-brown eyes.

"Should we… I mean, shall I inspect you for any injuries now?" He asked tentatively. Now it was Sole's turn to blush.

Deacon:

Sole gazed longingly at their partner as he walked a few paces in front of them, willing him to fall back, to draw nearer to them, to talk with them, to touch them, to do anything but what he was doing now.

The pair had been officially dating for three weeks at this point, and yet, Sole felt as though their relationship had remained ultimately unchanged. The night the two had confessed their feelings for each other had been… slow, and almost painful as Deacon struggled with the subject matter of the conversation. Sole knew it was difficult for him to open up, and hell, after all he's been through, they didn't blame him. It had been no easy feat for them to be open about their feelings as well, so they felt that they could empathize with their companion to a certain degree.

They had been happy, even relieved to take things slow, but now it had been nearly a month and nothing was different. Sole felt ready for a committed romantic relationship, and yet, Deacon still felt like he couldn't even take off his sunglasses around them. They wanted to be close to him, to really speak with him, to have someone they could connect with, that they could be intimate and vulnerable with, and they just weren't sure if they could ever have that with Deacon. And that scared the hell out of them, because, truth be told, there was no one else they wanted that with.

Now felt like a good time to test the waters though. The pair were alone, strolling leisurely through the woods on their way back to Sanctuary after a Railroad job well done. The light wind created an orchestra of soft brushing sounds as it swept through the meager leaves adorning the branches above them, there was a peaceful quiet, a kind of serenity that gave Sole courage.

With a few quicker steps, Sole came into stride beside Deacon as he kept moving forward, gaze trained on the trail ahead. They let their arm swing down, their fingers brushing his hand as they walked. Their partner seemed to pull his arm slightly away from them, but otherwise, he paid the movement no mind. Maybe that wasn't clear enough.

Sole went in again, this time their hand caught his on a downswing, holding firmly to keep the contact, but trying not to seem too forceful. He stopped in his tracks, his hand remaining limp in their grasp, before he pulled it away. To his credit, he was gentle as he did so, but his movement left little room for debate. Sole looked down at their own hand, feeling slightly embarrassed before tilting their eyeline up to meet his gaze. He smiled apologetically at them, knowing full well that his action couldn't have made them feel good. Sole nodded to him in acknowledgement. So handholding is a 'no,' got it. They turned back to face the path again, setting off ahead of their companion in the direction of Sanctuary. Lost in thought, Sole continued trekking along, noting the sound of Deacon's footfalls beside them as they kept their eyes trained on the road.

The pair continued walking in silence, and just as Sole felt as though they needed to break it, they felt a brush against their hand. They held it in place, waiting to see what would happen next if they let him make the movements of his own accord. They heard Deacon clear his throat as his hand kept contact with theirs, his pinky finger extending out to wrap around their own as their hands continued to sway slightly as they walked.

Sole beamed, peeking over to see Deacon's own little half-smile, accompanied by a muted flush at the apples of his cheeks.

I think we've made some good progress here today.

Gage:

Sole paced around the main room of Fizztop Grille, wearing nothing but an oversized shirt and underwear as they tried desperately to get Gage's attention. They had felt like shit all day and had tried everything to get the raider to focus on them. Made him a drink, sighed loudly towards him, tried to get him to engage in conversation, tried to tell him how bad they were feeling, they even continued removing their clothes with him in the room, but he just continued cleaning his damn rifle. Sole approached the side of the bar, making sure to remain in his line of sight, as they bent down seductively, acting as though they were perusing the bottom shelf of the bar for a beverage. Even that didn't work. I'll have to take drastic measures.

Sole turned their attention to where he laid back on the couch, examining the sharp, shining edge of the blade of his combat knife. Guess he finished with his gun.

They made their way towards him, and still he didn't look over at them. When they reached the couch, he let a hand fall to the ground, still grasping the knife as he finally set his eyes on Sole. At that, they collapsed directly onto his body, knocking the wind out of him as they made contact, their chest flush to his own, face buried in the crook of his neck.

"Oof, shit boss, what's this for?"

"Please, Gage. I've felt like absolute shit all day, and you haven't said a damn word to me. I need you."

"Oh? You need me, huh?" They heard the mischief in his voice as he brought one hand over to grasp at their ass, the combat knife clattering to the floor as his other hand ran up Sole's bare back underneath their shirt.

"No." Sole whined, "not like that. I just told you, I feel like shit. I don't know what it is, I feel cold and achy. And I know I must sound like a little bitch, but can you just… I don't know, do something about it?"

He hummed at them, and Sole was sure he'd say something gruff, or do nothing at all. Even since establishing their relationship, the pair had rarely shown the other any sort of… romantic affection.

So, Sole nearly yelped in surprise as he shifted them over so they were resting more comfortably beside him, half of their body still draped over his. He left one arm firmly wrapped around their shoulders, pulling their body to press against him as his other arm came up to wrap around their waist, keeping them enveloped in his tight embrace. Though the adjustment was gruff, his leathery hand was nothing short of tender as he rubbed up and down their back, reveling in the feel of Sole's breath as it fanned warmly over his neck.

"Mm, this better?" He asked, his voice soft and low. Sole nodded to him, their forehead bumping into his jaw. They felt him turn his head at the new contact, tilting downward to press a kiss to their brow before speaking again.

"Good."

Sole relaxed further into his body, the warmth of him seeming to seep into their soul. Who the hell is this, and where has he been all this time?

"Look, as much as I, ahem, love this, and I do," He whispered almost too quietly for Sole to hear, even with their close proximity, "If you tell anyone about it, this is the last time it'll happen. Got it?"

Sole laughed at that quietly, nuzzling further into the crook of his neck.

"You know… I was going to say the same thing."

"Good. Glad we're on the same page then, boss."

"Me too." They said, bringing their head up to kiss him on the cheek before falling back against his chest. Gage's lip quirked upwards as he smiled at their affectionate gesture. Damn. I've gotta do this more often. He thought, a warmth blossoming outwards from his chest as he held Sole firmly to him.

Hancock:

Sole laid their head back against the pillows, their chest still heaving from the exertion of the night as they heard the soft padding of footsteps draw closer. They felt the mattress divot and give way slightly beside them as Hancock crawled back into the bed. He brought a hand up to rest on their stomach as he pressed his ruined lips to their cheek. At the feel of their sweat-swathed skin, the ghoul withdrew his hand from their abdomen, not wanting them to be uncomfortable, given the stuffiness of the Old State House. The pair laid silently for a while, side-by-side as they listened to their breath finally begin to slow to a more relaxed pace.

As their body began to cool, Sole found themself wanting to be closer to their partner again, craving the warmth that his body would bring pressed against theirs. They shifted onto their side, eyes softening at the sight of him, as they realized Hancock had been gazing at them lovingly since the moment he had gotten back into bed with them.

"You're gorgeous." He said softly, dark eyes glistening in the gloom of the State House bedroom.

"You're not so bad yourself." Sole whispered, drawing a hand upwards to caress his cheek, running their fingers soothingly along his jaw as their thumb stroked his cheekbone. His eyes seemed to close involuntarily at the contact, and he turned his head to kiss the palm of their hand. Sole smiled, bringing their fingers down to run over the line of his mouth as he tried to capture each individual digit in a kiss before they could be drawn away. They ran their fingers around the marred skin of his face in an attempt to touch as much of him as they could with one hand, and yet, his lips continued to follow suit. Sole giggled at the little game they had started, watching with half-lidded eyes as he moved his head about in an effort to keep his mouth in contact with their hand.

"You like teasing me, huh?" He said at the sounds of mirth spilling from Sole's lips.

"Well, you make it so easy." They brought their hand to dangle above his face, and his brow furrowed at the loss of contact.

"Yeah, well, you just know that I'd do anything for you, don't you?" He said lowly as he brought his own hand up to capture Sole's, letting his fingers fall into the spaces between theirs. He drew their hands downward, pressing one final kiss to the back of Sole's hand before releasing it from his grip; instead, sliding his hand over their arm until he had it pressed against their back. From there, he increased the pressure, urging Sole to scoot closer to him. When they obliged, he slid over so they could rest upon his chest, letting out a sigh as the scent of them drifted to his ruined nose. He set his sights on Sole's face once more, still flushed slightly from the exerting events of the evening, their eyes closed peacefully, their hair messily framing their enchanting features. God, they're perfect.

Sole felt their cheek squish against the firmness of Hancock's chest as they smiled into him, reveling in the feel of his heartbeat as it pounded strongly beneath them. They moved their head, tilting it downwards slightly as they pressed a kiss to the center of his bare chest, feeling him release a breath as their soft lips made contact with his skin.

Man, how did I ever get so lucky? The pair thought in unison as, together, they drifted off peacefully, still wrapped in the other's warm embrace.

MacCready:

The merc sighed deeply as he collapsed onto the couch in the living room of Sole's home in Sanctuary, dropping his bag next to him as he let his hat fall over his eyes.

Sole smiled affectionately as they came in behind him. They began to unload their pack, listening as MacCready started to snore softly. It had been a long trip, and a good few weeks since they'd been back at Sanctuary, so they certainly couldn't blame him for passing out so easily. Actually, that sounds like a wonderful idea.

Sole meandered back to their bedroom and readied themself for some much needed sleep, hoping MacCready would find his way back there eventually. When he didn't, Sole walked back to the living room, folding their arms over their chest as they looked at their partner; eyes closed from underneath his hat, mouth hanging open as he snoozed contently. They slowly made their way to him, hands descending to work on loosening the laces of his boots, before pulling them off of his tired feet. Next they took a few steps forward and gently removed his hat from its place over his eyes. His snoring never ceased as Sole knelt next to him, bringing their fingers up to smooth through his soft brown hair, their fingers lightly brushing the locks away from his face.

Sole felt torn, on the one hand, they felt like they never wanted this moment to end, it was so serene and lovely. But at the same time, Sole desperately needed sleep themself, so the other part of them willed him to wake and join them in the bedroom. In the next instance, the merc took in an exceptionally loud breath, jolting himself awake, much to Sole's amusement. They giggled at him as he sleepily peered around in confusion.

"What just happened?" He asked, rubbing at his eyes.

"You were snoring so loud that you woke yourself up." Sole said, still chuckling to themself as they stood up, their fatigue making the situation much more humorous than it probably was.

"But… were you touching me?"

"I was trying to coax you awake. I wanna go to bed." He looked confused for a moment, still blinking away some of his grogginess.

"And I wanted you to come with me. I know you've never slept in the bed here, but… now that we're, well, you know, I just--"

"Oh!" MacCready shot up into a sitting position, and prepared to get off the couch, "I… yeah, I would like that. Sorry, still uh, getting used to all this again." A blush rose to his cheeks as he spoke, and he looked down at his feet after swinging them around to stand.

"What happened to my shoes?" He looked over at Sole questioningly as he stood and began to follow them down the hall.

"They're out there, I just… took them off for you."

"O-oh, thanks."

Sole settled themself on one side of the bed as MacCready almost tentatively crawled under the covers beside them, adjusting himself as he tried to get comfortable on the plush mattress. Sole closed their eyes, nearly drifting off into sleep with each passing moment, until MacCready's incessant shifting brought them back to consciousness.

"Just relax, sweetie." They told him, shifting onto their side and bringing their fingers back up to run through his hair once more. They heard him gasp for a moment at the contact, but kept up with their soothing movements, smiling to themself as they heard him sigh softly. He leaned his head into the contact, and before Sole could ask him if he enjoyed the gesture, they heard quiet snores spill from his lips as he drifted off once again, with Sole following close behind.

Nick:

Sole made their way back to the office portion of the agency, wiping their eyes as they looked to the clock on Nick's desk. 2:34am. Yuck.

The synth was hunched over, eyes moving along the lines of the case file clasped in his hands.

"And what are you doing up, hmm?" He asked without looking up from the page. Instead of answering verbally, Sole drew closer to him, bringing their right hand up to brush against his left cheek, encouraging him to look over at them. To their surprise, Nick pulled away from their touch quickly, but still turned his glowing eyes to meet theirs. Sole could see the ridge above his eyes creased upwards as he noticed the hurt etched on their face at his action.

"Careful there, doll. I just don't want you to hurt yourself. I've got some sharp edges over here."

"You think I don't know that?" They hadn't meant for the words to come out the way they did, but they were tired and irritable. It's how they always felt when they woke up and he wasn't beside them. And of course they knew he didn't sleep, so they can't blame him for being unused to this trend they've tried to establish, but… surely he'd rather be laying beside them, rather than working at a desk all night. Right? Their uncertainty must have been plain on their face, for now Nick seemed to peer at them sympathetically, despite their gruff tone with him.

He brought his good hand up to their face, returning the gesture they had just tried to make towards him, his thumb stroking lightly over their cheek.

"You want me to come to bed? Is that it?" Sole nodded sleepily, pressing further into his touch, his synthetic hand feeling soothingly cool over their heated skin.

"Alright. No more work tonight, you got it." Sole smiled at that, and Nick let his hand smooth down past their jaw, down their neck, and over their shoulders as he brought his arm around them. The pair made their way to the bed in the corner of the agency, Nick moving ahead of Sole so he could lift the covers up as they crawled beneath them. Sole peered up at him with half lidded eyes as he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off his shoulders, his hands reached for a softer, buttonless long sleeve which he brought down over his head.

Now, he made his way to the bed, sliding under the covers and bringing one arm up to rest on the tops of the pillows, an invitation for Sole to fill the space below. And they certainly obliged, curling themselves up beside him with one arm thrown over his abdomen as their cheek rested on his chest. They felt his arm fall from its place on the pillows to wrap around them, and their eyes fluttered shut as they listened to his whirring heartbeat, smoothing their hand up and down his body contently as they nuzzled deeper into him. They reveled at the softness of his shirt beneath their fingers and cheek. He really thinks of everything, doesn't he? No wonder he's a detective.

"How much can you feel when I do this?" Sole asked quietly as they continued rubbing his chest with their hand.

"Mm, I can feel every little bit, sweetheart. It's wonderful, you've got a real talent there." Sole giggled at him, and they could've sworn they heard a distinct quickening of the synth's heartbeat for a moment.

"I'm being serious, love. I mean, do you even like when I touch you like this?"

"Honestly? There's nothing on this earth that makes me happier."

Preston:

Sole kept their gaze trained on the minuteman as he checked in with each of the settlers, moving from person to person, speaking softly, and comforting each one. He had to be exhausted, after all, it was them who had driven off the mutants in the attack on Sunshine Tidings; and yet, all his attention was on helping the people around him. They waited patiently as he at last checked in with the settlement's doctor, ensuring any wounded were on their way to recovery, and as he finally turned to look at Sole, they had moved to stand directly beside him, bringing a hand up to his shoulder and rubbing softly as they urged him towards the guest house near the entrance to the settlement.

"C'mon, Lieutenant, it's time you got some rest."

"And you, General." He said, falling in line behind them as they made their way onto the porch, and into the front door of the house. Preston shrugged off his coat as he stepped into the room, and pulled his hat from his head, tossing both onto the dresser as he took a seat on the bed and began undoing his boot laces. Sole took off their own overcoat and bits of the leather armor they were wearing, before turning back to their companion, who was still seated, just staring ahead with tired eyes. Even as Sole walked to the other side of the bed and settled themself atop the mattress, Preston didn't budge. They gave him a moment, testing to see if he would try and relax beside them, but he still sat on the edge of the mattress, facing towards the door, eyes trained on the wall. Sole moved upwards into a sitting position, and crawled along the mattress towards their partner, they stopped behind him and brought their hands up to rest on his shoulders.

"Wh--? Oh, um…" the minuteman tensed, and turned his head to look back at Sole.

"Is this alright?" They asked him as they began to rub his shoulders firmly with their fingers, trying to work some of the stress from his body.

"Well, yes. Definitely, but you know, you don't have to-- oh? Ah." Sole pressed harder as their adept fingers worked at the knot they found in his shoulder, and Preston sighed in relief as he felt it begin to loosen up.

Sole continued their movements and watched as Preston's head slowly lowered as he settled into a more relaxed state. He rolled his shoulders against their ministrations, releasing a few deep breaths as he felt the tension ebb away from his muscles. They carried on this way until Sole felt as the hardness beneath his skin began to melt away, leaving the area feeling loose and pliant against their firm contact. Another sigh escaped their partner as the massage left his shoulders feeling light and fuzzy, as though they had fallen asleep. Sole leaned into him, resting their chin on Preston's shoulder as they spoke softly into his ear,

"Come here, hon. Come lay down."

"Mm, don't have to ask me twice." His voice came out groggily, as though he'd just been asleep, and Sole smiled at the pleasant sound. They began to sink down onto the mattress themself, one hand remaining on his shoulder, pulling slightly as they urged him down beside them. He followed without hesitation, collapsing onto his back with another sigh of satisfaction.

"Thank you, love. I didn't know how much I needed that." He said, head tilted back against the pillows as his eyes fell closed. Sole just hummed in response, and lazily, Preston brought an arm over to wrap around them, drawing their body to press against his.

"And, if you want, I could return the favor." Though Sole had closed their eyes, they felt them roll beneath their lids as they smiled, releasing a breath in mock exasperation at their partner's incessant selflessness.

"No, sweetie. You can do me a favor by just trying to get some rest."

X6-88:

"Sir/ma'am, we both know that sleeping is not my strong suit."

"Please, X, just call me Sole now, you're driving me crazy with all of these formalities."

"Forgive me. It's as they say, old habits die hard."

"Well, can you just at least try to sleep? If nothing else, it helps me."

X6's eyes narrowed at them. First they insisted I remove my sunglasses during our 'down time,' now I need to sleep what, at least 5 hours every night too? Relationships are strange. But I suppose, if it helps them sleep...

"If you say so." He said, shifting from his seated position on the bed to lay down beside them. Sole scooted closer to him, resting their head against his shoulder, and bringing their arm to lay over his firm chest. As Sole tried to relax into him, they felt X6's muscles remain taught beneath his skin, as though he were still poised for a fight. Sole sighed in exasperation. They had known that this relationship wouldn't come all that naturally to the courser, and they were prepared to be patient with him. But sometimes it really seemed like he just… didn't enjoy romantic gestures of any kind, and if that was the case… well, Sole didn't want to force the man to remain with them if he felt uncomfortable. But maybe he just needs to relax a little more…

"I'd like to try something." They told him. X6 hesitated, waiting to hear more before answering. At Sole's lack of clarification, he gave in.

"Alright."

Sole shifted so that they were laying on their stomach, their side pressed against his body as they looked up at him.

"Is it okay if I touch your face?" He looked away from them in thought, silver eyes practically glowing in the darkness of the bedroom as his brows drew over them in confusion at their request. After a moment of contemplation, his gaze shot back to meet Sole's own eyes before he nodded at them.

Tentatively, Sole reached their hand up until the tips of two fingers lightly brushed over his cheekbone. X6 kept very still, staring ahead as they stroked upwards, tracing lines softly over his smooth facial skin. They brought their fingers up and around his eye socket, across his forehead, down the side of his face, over his chin, back up to pass along the bridge of his nose, and over to the other side, where they repeated the pattern.

"Close your eyes." They whispered to him, and he did as they suggested without question. They felt his facial muscles slowly begin to relax as Sole's fingers continued tracing shapes over their smooth canvas. They weren't sure how long they kept up these movements, but soon enough they found themself drifting off into sleep, their hand falling to rest near the crook of X6’s neck. Before their dreams could claim them, Sole felt warm, calloused fingers glide over the arm still resting on their companion's chest, stroking slowly over their skin. A satisfied breath passed through their lips as they smiled weakly at the feel of the gentle contact.

"Goodnight, Sole." He whispered, and they barely caught the words before passing into dreamland.

This Prompt with FO3 M!Companions

This Prompt with FONV M!Companions

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sicjimin · 3 years

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Hii^^ Could you write Jikook? I thought: JK and JM are on their way to JKs parents, JMs going to meet them for the first time, but.. Jimin gets really carsick during the ride there and worries about his first impression, because he feels really bad. But luckily JKs family are a bunch of sweethearts and are nice about it. You can of course change things if you want to, it’s just an idea :)))

A/N : Umm .... this come out longer than i intended it to be, i got carried away, i’m sorryy T.T but thank you anon for requesting this, i hope my writing could do justice to your expectation !! i really love carsickness Jimin T.T i’m sorry for any grammatical mistakes :)

Jimin knows he’s prone to carsickness, that’s why he always prepared Dramamine beforehand and mint candy in his bag. Jungkook, as his assigned driver also prepared some plastic bags in his car dashboard and a bottle of water. That goes like an unspoken role between them before they do a drive somewhere, especially the long drive one, like right now.

They are currently on the drive back to Busan, their hometown, to spend Christmas and New Year there. They gonna visit Jungkook’s parents first and stay there for the weekend, and then to Jimin’s parents before they go to their rented villa near the beach for the rest of the holiday—it’s not like they didn't want to stay longer with their parents, but some privacy would be nice, that's why they decided to rent a villa for few days.

They still have approximately 30 minutes before they step into Busan and 10 minutes more until they reach Jeon’s family house. The car fall silent, only faint songs from Jungkook’s Spotify play in the background. They have been talked since they out of their dorm, so now only comfortable silence around them. Jimin appreciated that silence because he could feel his head start spinning. It seems like the dramamine he takes earlier already wears off. Usually, it could hold Jimin’s motion sickness for an hour, but maybe because now it mixed with Jimin’s anxiousness, Dramamine couldn't help much.

Yes, Jimin has been dreading this day. They started dating early this year after 7 years of pining, so this gonna be the first time he meets the Jeon personally, and as Jungkook’s boyfriend—not only his son bandmates. Even though Jungkook has assured him since the younger break the news that his parents want to meet him, still, he couldn't help but grows worried to make a good impression.

Jimin leans his head to the window, feeling the cool of the glass against his sweaty forehead. His stomach starts feeling heavy. He moves his hand under his shirt and rubs it slowly. Jungkook, even though his eyes focused on the road, could sense the distress from his boyfriend. He moves his free hand to Jimin’s thighs, giving it soft rubs as he shot a glance, “Are you start feeling sick, Hyung?”

Jimin closed his eyes and hum an answer.

“Do you need the bag? Its in the dashboard in front of you, or we could pull over if you want”

Jimin shakes his head, “Mhm, I don't think I need it now. I just get a little bit dizzy, it's fine. How long until we got there?”

Jungkook take a glance on the gps besides him, “Um.. we still have 35 minutes”

Jimin let out a sigh. He knows he won't survive that long. He could feel Jungkook’s hand grabbing his, thumb stroking his palm, “I’m sorry, I’m sure it won't be that long”

10 minutes later, Jimin feels his head just getting dizzier. He could feel his stomach content sloshing inside, and not to mention how many times he has been stifled a sick burp into his fist. It just gets worse and worse. He also knows that Jungkook has been taking a worried glance at him more than he could count, it's adorable. Jimin straightens his body and starts rummaging the dashboard in front of him.

“Do you want me to pull over, babe?”, Jungkook asks

“No need, i dont think i will be sick now. I’m just preparing”

Jungkook takes another worried glance and nods. His hand never leaving Jimin’s thighs. They fall silence again.

Jimin squirmed in his seat, straightened his back, and placing the bag in front of his mouth. He will be sick any seconds now.

"Jungkook-ah, I think I'm gonna be sick ... Sorry", Jimin's words a little bit slurred, a mix between too dizzy and too nauseous.

Jungkook doesn't say anything, instead, he pulls over. After he safely stops his car sideways, He turns his body fully facing his boyfriend that still breathing heavily over the bag.

"It's okay sweetheart, just let it all out. You will feel better soon"

Jimin's body lurched forward as his stomach spasm and making a harsh gag escaped his throat, but nothing comes out. One of Jimin's hands hurriedly opened the car door, he needs fresh air because this car is just too stuffed. He turns his body facing outside just in time as a gush of liquid rushing into the bag. Jungkook squats forward, so his hand could be enough to reach Jimin's curving back.

Jimin heaves again, sending another large rush of vomit filling the back, it's halfway full now. This one is leaving Jimin holding his breath for a good 5 seconds since the liquid won't stop rushing from his mouth. He coughed and spits into the bag, try to dislodge the remnants of vomit that stuck in his throat. Another wave hits him again, but only bringing a trickle of bile. Jimin sagged into his seat, feeling incredibly tired after that vomiting session.

"Are you finished?", Jungkook worried voices trickling into the older ears as a bottle of water comes into his sight. Jimin shaky hands tied the bag and disposed it outside before he took the water, his throat is burning.

"Thank you, let's go again. So we won't arrive there too late"

"Are you sure Hyung?", Jimin could sense how hesitant Jungkook to continue the trip. It's fair since they still have around 15 minutes ahead, and Jimin might get sick again in that span of 15 minutes since he already throws up the dose of Dramamine earlier.

Jimin nods and lets out a small smile, "Yes, but maybe I will sleep. Is that okay with you?"

Jungkook sighed and ruffled the older hairs, "Okay. I will wake you up when we arrived"

---

Less than 15 minutes of the rest of the ride, Jungkook finally safely parked his car into his parent's house garage. He turned off the engine and looking at his side, Jimin still soundly sleeping. He's going to wake up the older before he noticed that Jimin is one shade paler, he doesn't know if it because the older just get sick a few minutes ago or still sick?

Jungkook shakes Jimin's arms softly, "Baby .. wake up. We have arrived". Jimin is a light sleeper, especially when he is not feeling too well, just like now. Only with that soft commotion, he wakes up. Jimin whimpers as he opened his eyes, gaining a more worried look from the younger, " Hyung .. hey .. is everything okay?"

Jimin shakes his head slowly. The sleep is not helping at all —um, maybe it did help in the first few minutes but after that? It's a mess. Jimin was more aware of the car moves with his eyes closed, and it messes with his balance system and his queasy stomach.

"I still feel sick, Kook-ah"

"Let's get in and go to bed, okay? Can you walk on your own?"

Jimin nods and gets out of the car. He looks around and that's when it hits him again. He gonna meet Jungkook's parents. He gonna introduced himself as Jungkook's boyfriend.

Shit.

Jimin turns his body to take a look at his reflection. He didn't give single attention to his appearance after his sick episode earlier and looking at how he just feeling worse as time goes, he will look like shit. Jimin quickly brushes his hair with his fingers and preparing himself —in whatever way he could think of— before he hears Jungkook confused voices from behind with a rattle of their belongings.

"Hyung? Why are you slapping your face like that?"

"Uh .. to prepare myself? I look terrible, Kookie", Jimin whined, a pout formed on his lips.

Jungkook giggles, "Baby you don't need to do that. You look gorgeous and you have already met my parents!"

Jimin walks to Jungkook, "But as your bandmates!! not as boyfriend!! and don't lie to me, i know I look terrible. I just get sick earlier and spend the rest of the ride sleeping how could I look presentable?". Jungkook laughs again and steals a kiss from his boyfriend's cheeks. " Yah!", Jimin yelps in surprise, red faint of blush creeps to his cheeks.

"You need to stop stressing that little brain of yours, baby. They already love you as my bandmates, what makes you think they will love you less now as a boyfriend. They will love you more ! I'm the one that needs to worry here since I'm sure they will adopt you as their son now", Jungkook grunts in a pout. As he closed his mouth, Jungkook's parents chimed in from the door.

"Aiigoooo, here they come !! Come in, come in!!" Jungkook's mom cheery voices followed by a tight hug and forehead kisses welcomed them both. "How's the trip?", She asks as they stepped inside.

"It's fine, Eomma. But we're a little bit tired since we have packed schedule yesterday", Jungkook answered. His hands slowly making their way to Jimin's clammy hands, interlaced it quietly. Maybe ... not as quiet as they intend to, " Wait. Why are you both holding hands? Jungkook?"

Jungkook grins, "Eomma, say hello to my boyfriend, Jiminie Hyung". Jimin just could let out a strained smile, still don't know how Jungkook's parents might react to the news. She gasps and suddenly screams, " Jeon !! come here !! we have a wedding to arrange from now !!”

Jimin chuckels and sigh in relief, Jungkook’s parents seem happy and maybe, too excited, at the idea of them dating. They fall into a comfortable conversation after that. Jungkook goes to place their belonging upstairs, and Jimin with his mother in the kitchen, try to help her making dinner. Jungkook’s mom is a fun person, a conversation never stops from her lips and Jimin is grateful for that.

Jimin currently washing the vegetables while listening to her story about their new neighbor, when a dizzy spell followed by a wave of nausea hits him. He closed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. Cold sweats start making his shirt damped. Jungkook's mom seems not noticed about Jimin's sudden silence, she still talking and Jimin trying his best to not vomit all over the sink when another harsh wave hits him a second later. He needs to go to the bathroom right now. Jimin gulps audibly, "Um .. Eomma?"

"Yes, sweetheart? Is there anything you need? Have you finished the vegetables? You could put it here", her eyes stick on the pot of Jjigae she made. It looks tasty, but the sight of food just makes saliva pool faster in Jimin's mouth.

"Uh, yes I have finished it. Can I go to the bathroom for a minute, Eomma? I will back soon", Jimin says quickly. He could feel vomit crippling behind his throat.

"Ahh, sure sure. You know the way, right? And tell Jungkook to go here later, okay?"

Jimin nods and almost runs to the bathroom. He stumbled upon Jungkook on the way, "Woah Woah, slow down Hyung. Where are you going?"

"Bathroom", Jimin says quickly before another heave racking his body. Bringing his legs steps faster to the bathroom. He goes inside and almost slammed the door loudly. That's the last of his priority right now as he immediately lurched forward, followed by a thick stream of vomit rush from his mouth. He's sure everyone outside could hear how loud he retches and the sounds of it splattering to the water. Jimin is puking so intensely, as the wave of vomit couldn't stop rushing from his lips and his stomach eagerly spams, expelling everything it could to the water below.

Jungkook on the outside only could stand worriedly, listening to Jimin's painful retches and sounds of thick liquid hitting the toilet. His mom comes along, maybe hearing the loud commotion, since the kitchen and bathroom isn't that far, "Jungkook? What's going on? Who's inside?"

"Jimin Hyung, Eomma. He has been sick since our way here"

"Aiigooo poor baby, I will make him some soup and tea, you go take care of him here, okay?"

Jungkook nods, before knocking on the door, "Hyung ... let me in"

He got answered by a retch, "Don't... I will out in few minutes", Jimin raspy voice following after. Jungkook sighs, leaning his body to the wall. There's nothing he could do if Jimin says so.

He winced few times when he still could hear sounds of vomit filling the toilet. God, how much is there in Jimin's body could bring out? The older haven't eaten anything yet since they arrived. Jungkook unconsciously biting his lips, too deep in his thought until he didn't hear the sounds of the door opened.

"Huh? Jungkook? Why are you waiting here?"

Jungkook snaps his head, meeting Jimin's glassy eyes. "Hyung .."

Jimin smiles softly, he takes a step forward and brings his head buried to the younger's shoulders, "I must have to leave a bad impression on your Eomma"

Jungkook tilts his head as his hand stays on Jimin's waist and others brushing his hair, "Uh? Why?"

"I kinda left her in the middle of cooking, and I'm not responding too much when she talks", Jimin whined, gaining a chuckle from Jungkook. The younger hasn't yet formed another reassurance words when his mom stepped out of the kitchen, "Jiminie sweetie, come here"

Jimin's eyes go wide, clearly panicked, "Kook..".

Jungkook smiles and guiding the older to his mom. Jimin's eyes immediately meet a bowl of soup and tea on the table when he stepped into the dining room, " Here, eat this. It might help your upset stomach. Jungkook always loves this when he's not feeling too well, and this tea is my mother's recipe, it could help to lessen your nausea. I have proved it when I was having Jungkook. After this, Jungkook, you bring Jimin to your room and let him have an early night, got it?"

"Okay eomma", Jungkook says.

Jimin still stands on his side, mouth slightly opened. Jungkook giggles at the sight, pushing the older to take a seat, "Here, eat this when it's still warm". Jimin nods shyly, still overwhelmed with sudden attention. He takes a bite, and it warmed his stomach. He took another bite, it seems like his stomach just realized how hungry he is after emptying its content. He almost eats half of the soup, when he realized that Jungkook's and his mom's eyes are on him. He slowly his spoon movement as another series of blush creeping to his cheeks, "Eomma, this is so delicious. Thank you, and sorry for being a burden", Jimin says shyly. A soft slap hitting his arms, "What are you talking about, you're practically my son now!", she nags.

"Now, I'm gonna back making dinner", she stands after giving Jimin's hair soft ruffles.

After she leaves, they sat there in silence until Jimin finished his bowl. "Done?", Jungkook asks. Jimin nods, "I'm so glad this going quite well, except for the vomiting part"

Jungkook giggles, "What I have been told you this whole time, they will love you Hyung. My parents are making our wedding preparation now as we speak"

#bts sickfic #bts emeto #tw emeto #tw vomit #sick!jimin #caretaker!jungkook

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louiserandom · 4 years

Text

Play Games with Me

Pairing: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara | Rating: E

A/N: Commission for the amazing @rookie-d💙💗 thank you so much! *hugs*

Read on AO3 or continue under the cut :3 Ko-fi and fic commission info in the header!

Tobirama SenJERK has never had sex in his life, Madara types, as always brimming with spite when it comes to his least favorite person in town. Maybe on the planet.

Rereading the comment and satisfied that there aren’t any typos or any hint whatsoever at some kind of hidden affection (which isn’t there, never was and never will be, Madara reminds himself firmly), he hits ‘Comment.’

“Take that, you dumbass,” Madara mutters under his breath, and really, this could be classified as childish, were he not completely in the right to take vicious revenge upon the fucking asshole who dared refer to Madara as ‘so idiotic it’s pitifully adorable’ on his last stream. Hah! Like Tobirama isn’t the less intelligent one of the two of them; Madara has watched enough of his Uncharted 4 gameplay to note that Tobirama took twelve seconds longer than him to figure out arguably the most difficult puzzle in the game. And although Madara’s sub count doesn’t quite reflect his superior intellect compared to Senju’sーnot that he’s checked in a whileーit’s likely a testament to the viewers’ total lack of taste, if anything else.

(Two thousand, nine hundred and thirty four viewer’s, to be precise, according to this morning’s stats and minus the handful of Madara’s fake accounts that he created just in case to keep up with his chief competitor. Admittedly, it might be a tad annoying.)

A notification pipes up.

Hm, I wonder how you’d know that, MaddyGamerboy? Are you stalking me? I must admit, I’m flattered.

Madara sputters at the reply. At yet another butchering of his perfectly adequate nickname. The fucking nerve of the guyーand people fucking wonder why Madara hates his guts?

(Madara knows it doesn’t really help his case that he’s touched himself to fantasies of the younger Senju more times than he’d care to count, but hate-fucking a thing isn’t it? Hate-masturbation must be too, he supposes. Not the healthiest outlet for negative feelings, but it makes him feel good enough.)

(Heavenly, to be precise.)

I AM NOT, YOU SELF-OBSESSED DUMBASS, Madara types, simultaneously taking care of the half-a-dozen typos that appear of their own accord.

No.

Deep breath. Stop fingers from shaking. Think about something witty to say.

Pff, he writes, for lack of any better word to express his indignant huff, like I give a shit about you. You’re dumb.

It did sound much better in his head, but Madara has spent over a minute writing the comment already, and he doesn’t want to appear as if he’s thinking too hard on it.

He posts his answer, not dwelling too match on the number of likes on Tobirama’s comment far outnumbering the hundred Madara’s garnered. Again, Tobirama’s audience is clearly not the best judge of character.

“FUCK. YOU. SIDEWAYS, SENJU!” Madara shouts at the reply that follows, consisting only of the words:

Thanks for the sub btw.

“You fucking piece of shit,” Madara hisses. “Like eight fucking fake accounts do anything to boost your stats, I don’t even like all your videos from each one of them, you ass!”

I DID NOT SUB DONT BELIEVE HIM

I’m happy to have another loyal fan ;)

HE IS FUCKING LYEING!!!

With seemingly every single person in the comments raving about how it’s about time MadGamer69 and admitted he admires FlyingThunderGod’s skill, Madara has to consciously restrain himself from smashing his laptop against the wall.

“You can just tell him you like him, you know.”

Madara startles, almost stumbling to the floor when Hashirama returns with their drinks and quickly put-together snacks, always the one to rummage through Madara’s kitchen because Madara hardly cares what edible and inedible things existed there or what to do with themーthat’s Izuna’s job.

“I do not,” Madara snarls, as Hashirama flops next to him on the couch, “like that stupid clusterfuck you call a brother!”

“Madara!” Hashirama whines, with that ever-present pout on his face. “Be civil.”

“Yeah, when he returns the favor,” Madara glowers, grabbing a milkshake from Hashirama’s hand. “Did you forget that he fucking started it? Do I need to quote his “pitifully adorable how so much stupidity can fit in such a short man” again?” Madara can’t help flailing his arms a little, though far too conscious of this habit now since the Tobirama has started pointing it out. He makes up for it with what he hopes is a deadly enough glare. “Did no one in your family bother to teach him manners? Did you?”

Hashirama only sighs. “And did you forget,” he asks, “how before that you abused my invitation over to our place to hide his Golden Youtube Gamer Tablet?”

Madara groans. “It’s called a Gold Play Button. Idiot.”

“Now you’re insulting me,” Hashirama grumbles, “and who cares? The point is, you’d be upset too if he hid yours.”

“Youtubers care,” Madara says, “and also, that’s irrelevant, that was revenge for him making fun of my perfectly adequate gameplay.”

“To be fair, you were dying quite a lot in that playthrough...”

“He took twelve seconds longer to figure out that puzzle in the game!” Madara growls.

Hashirama rolls his eyes. “Well, of course, because that Yellow Flash guy was flirting and distracting him in the chat.”

Madara blanches. "That good-for-nothing pipsqueak was what?”

“See,” Hashirama drawls, “you are jealous. Why would you be jealous?”

“I-I’m not!”

“Madara, you are so far in denial, that as your best friend,” Hashirama says firmly, slapping a hand over Madara’s mouth before he can muster another protest, “I cannot stand by and watch you suffer. Anymore, that is, because this has reached a breaking point. So, please, for me, I am begging you, just try politely asking if maybe Tobirama would like to accompany you for coffee somewhere tomorrow? Maybe brunch? I mean, come on, I know you guys don’t hate each other anymore. Seriously, you guys seem like you enjoy arguments, and hey, who am I to judge how people express affection?”

“Affection?!” Madara shrieks, shoving Hashirama’s hand away.

“And please stop pretending you don’t have printed out screenshots of my brother’s videos hidden under your mattress because Izunaー”

“Is a fucking snooping rat!” Madara hisses.

Hashirama sighs. “If it helps you feel better, maybe Tobirama might possibly not feel extreme dislike towards you but actually the opposite,” he says, smiling nervously as Madara blanches.

Because... what?

He blinks, running Hashirama’s words through his mind again.

“And how would you know that?” he asks, suspicious. “I swear if you dared tell him anything about my possibly nonexistent feelingsー”

“Possibly?” Excitement starts bubbling in Hashirama’s eyes. “That’s progress!”

“Definitely nonexistent feelings, dammit!”

Hashirama, the asshole Madara calls best friend for some reason, giggles. “Don’t worry, I didn’t. I promise, stop glaring or I will start pouting,” he threatens, and Madara schools his expression back into a light scowl to avoid the infamous Senju pout.

Like a curse, memories of said pout curling Tobirama’s lips spring to mind, and Madara has to physically shake his head to banish those thoughts.

“Listen, the fact that we’re not as... aggressive as we used to be,” Madara says, “doesn’t mean we suddenly like each other.”

“Madara, you insist on coming along every time we hang out,” Hashirama points out.

“I like hanging out with you.”

“Yet every time we do,” Hashirama presses on, “you’re hyperfocused on bickering with Tobirama instead of talking about wholesome stuff with me. Did you even notice that I brought Mito with me the past few times and it was literally a double date?”

“Was not!” Madara shoves at Hashirama with his shoulder and stands up to pace, because there goes the tell-tale sweating of his hands, the fluttering in his chest and stomach and the memoriesーof him and Tobirama secretly filming the other on camera when they do stupid shit, their almost daily Best Playground Insult Contest that’s been memed half to death on Twitter, the one time they got separated from Hashirama and Izuna in Disneyland because they’d got caught in their arguments so much it devolved into discussing their favorite games and an actual conversation that had Madara’s insides tingling.

No.

No, no, no. If anything, they were just gradually becoming something not unlike friends. And Madara’s occasional fantasies behind closed doors were nothing but a means to a pleasant end.

Not. Feelings.

No matter how much he’s grown attached to the site of messy, white-gray hair that he knows is soft to the touch from all the times he’s tugged on it to irritate him. No matter how piercing Tobirama’s unique red eyes may look. No matter how objectively hot his recent workout routine video wasーand Madara knows he’d only watched it so many times because he wants to improve his own routine, right?

Right?

Madara groans. “Why are emotions so fucking confusing!” He slumps onto the floor and wraps his arms around his knees, hitting his head over and over again on his kneecaps because, “I don’t even know what I want from him, okay?”

There’s a brief silence before Hashirama joins him and keeps him from abusing his head further. “How about,” Hashirama suggests, rubbing a comforting hand on his back, “you just ask? Listen, he’s my brother. And you’re my best friend. You two fighting less and at least making an effort to get to know each other better?” Hashirama brings out the puppy dog eyes. “That would mean the world for me.”

Madara glances at him before looking away again, focusing on a random photo of the wall. One featuring Tobirama right after his university graduation with a wide smile on his face. Quite the adorable face, too, and the unprompted thought makes Madara want to descend into oblivion. Preferably forever.

“That’s difficult,” he says lamely.

“But not impossible,” Hashirama says, “and hey, it’s better than waiting for the Yellow Flash guy to actually make a move on Tobi and start occupying all of his time. He’s a really big fan.”

“Fuck Minato,” Madara scoffs, “the guy just showed up and is just shamelessly emulating Tobirama’s style. That’s dumb.”

“Dumber than you claim Tobi is?” Hashirama prompts.

Madara thinks about it. “You know what? Yes.”

“As I saidーprogress!”

Madara can never go through with his impulses to punch his well-meaning best friend, and so grabs the nearest pillow from the couch and smashes it into Hashirama’s face to shut him up.

Tobirama returns home only to find Hashirama and Madara standing by the front door, frowning as they watched something that sounded like a tsunami of some kind.

“Listen, it’s gotta be one of those black holes or something twisting that vortex. Look how stuff disappears right into it!” is his brother talking, and Tobirama is already heaving a frustrated sigh.

Please don’t tell me you think there’s a black hole on Earth.

“There’s no black holes on Earth, idiot! The nearest one is way off, like near Pluto or something,” Madara says.

Ah. Even better. Tobirama chuckles under his breath, crosses his arms and leans against the wall, observing the two idiots he knows and loves.

He mentally kicks himself.

Well, one of them, he loves. Of course he loves his brother.

The other is... complicated.

“And besides, that could just be the Loch Ness monster or a cthulhu or something. See how dark the water is?”

“Or maybe,” Tobirama says, making them both jump, “it’s a natural phenomenon that’s a tad too difficult for both your brain cells to comprehend? I’m happy to explain though.”

“I’m happy to see you fuck yourself,” Madara greets him his usual way, scowling despite the exceptionally conspicuous blush painting his cheeks.

The contrast never fails to make Tobirama’s heart beat faster. He hates himself for it.

“Mm, Madara,” Tobirama teases, “not in front of my brother.”

As expected, Madara starts spluttering, and Tobirama is left wondering again how he avoids making a total fool of himself in each and every one of his videos. It seems Madara saves most of his flailing for the comment section.

“You,” Madara snarls, pointing Tobirama’s way, “are an asshole, Senju, but spending time with the better part of society might do you some good. So see you at brunch tomorrow and do not be late.”

And with that, Madara gives Hashirama a cursory wave and stalks off, leaving Tobirama frozen on the spot.

Did Madara just?..

Tobirama blinks, swallowing heavily as he feels his throat running dry and his heart rate pick up.

No fucking way.

He must have imagined it. Through his stupor of trying to figure out what the hell just took place, Tobirama vaguely registers Hashirama’s facepalm.

“Sorry for that,” Tobirama hears his brother speak through the rush in his ears. “He meant, uh, will you please join him for brunch? Tomorrow at 11 am, Eggspectation?”

Tobirama blinks harder.

“I,” he starts, “I don’t... Did you blackmail Madara into asking me out?”

Hashirama looks scandalized. “What? No!”

“Did Madara just ask me out?”

“Well, yes, Tobi.” Hashirama chuckles nervously. “You sure you’re feeling okay?”

Tobirama glares. “The idiot’s wake up text to me today was literally a collection of trashy limerick poems about how much I suck. Sorry if I’m a little skeptical.”

“You,” Hashirama says, wincing as a long-suffering expression settles on his face, “you guys send wake up texts to each other?”

A moment of awkward silence hangs in the air.

“Sometimes,” Tobirama says, defensive, although the damage is already done.

“And you’re still not going out? Tobirama, you do realize he’s in love with you, right?”

“Don’t say things like that, Anija!” Tobirama snaps, hoping the dim lighting in the corridor conceals the blush he can feel heating up his cheeks. Fuck. Now he’s turning Madara. “Yet, I mean.”

“I’ll save the celebrations until after your date then!” Hashirama sing-songs like the idiot he is.

Tobirama resigns to his fate. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You’ll thank me for this.”

“If it goes well,” Tobirama glowers though it’s ineffective, really, against his brother’s bubbling positivity, and the sheer awe still coursing through him from Madara asking him out on a fucking date is actually enough to make Tobirama want to hug him. He refrains. "Now, thanks, Anija, but I have work things to attend to.”

“Sure! Just don’t forget, 11ー”

“Eleven eggs and uh, no expectations, got it.”

“Wait, Tobi, noー”

With no time to waste, naturally, Tobirama bolts into their apartment and straight to his room to choose an appropriate outfit. And to mentally prepare himself for something he’s almost given up hoping for.

Tobirama cannotーwill notーmess this up.

Tobirama makes sure to arrive about ten minutes early. Not because he’s worried or nervous, of course; maybe just a little, but mostly just to get his bearings beforeーfinallyーa date with Madara goddamn Uchiha.

Madara, who’s been Tobirama’s stupid crush since high school, and just as in love with gaming as he is, only that didn’t turn out to be such a great bonding point between them, as Tobirama had hopedーbefore he actually got to know his Anija’s best friend.

Madara, who seemed to dislike Tobirama at first sight and only grew to hate him more over the years as they both found more joy in arguing than they did in talking.

Madara, who, despite this, blushes every rare time Tobirama genuinely smiles at him or drops a suggestive joke, who has an arguably unhealthy obsession with Tobirama’s ass which he always ogles when he thinks no one is looking.

Madara, whose plastered ass Tobirama had to drag home the other week, amid drunken speeches about capitalist injustice, some wacky conspiracy behind the disappearance of the dodo bird and... something quite interesting.

“Listen, Senju,” Madara was slurring against Tobirama’s shoulder, as the latter cursed every single nonexistent god that Hashirama had chosen that fucking day to go on a road trip with Mito, Toka and Izuna, leaving Tobirama in charge of this walking trash fire of a man. “Listen. Tobira... Tobi. Tobirama. You’re so hot.”

The words almost made Tobirama stumble.

“What, Uchiha?”

“And cute... So pretty, too, I wish you could see that...” Madara went on babbling. “I think you do. But still. Wish you could see me like I do. I mean see you. Like I do...”

“Tobira, you’re just, you’re unfair...”

“I hate you and I like you then I love you and I hate you again, why you’reー” A hiccup. “How do you exist...”

“I just want to hold hands and just... walk and talk and be together and...”

Tobirama watched in ever mounting confusion as Madara leaned completely into him, humming as he hugged Tobirama tightly and said,

“Is that too fucking much to ask...”

Tobirama stood, shell-shocked, with Madara whispering impossible nonsense in his arms, wondering if he was in a dream.

The next day saw Madara returning to his usual self insulting Tobirama at every goddamn opportunity, which left Tobirama... confused.

Confused, and conflicted, and sleepless for the rest of the night, thoughts held captive by the utter idiot whose ultimate goal seems to be to ruin Tobirama’s life.

It’s maddening.

Of course, he’d suspected that Madara’s flailing and constant blushing interspersed with screams and insults (the most creative ones, reserved only for Tobirama, it seemed) were signs of not so much dislike, as the complete opposite. Of course, Tobirama had tried flirting with Madara, just bordering right there on the edge of suggestive, only for his advances to be seen as patronizing or condescending. And hearing Madara speak to him this way, in a drunken stupor no less, when he’d probably have no causeーor abilityーto lie is...

Maddening. Annoying. Exhilarating. A tantalizing opportunity. Maybe a glimmer of hope.

And of course, Tobirama told his brother; they never really had any secrets between them. And of fucking course Hashirama had a hand in convincing Madara to change his usual behavior, which is nice and all, but doesn’t help the nerves wracking through Tobirama’s body, nor the crippling fear that he’s going to somehow screw this up.

But no. Deep breath. Exhale. And remember Anija’s advice.

Tobirama takes the last turn before he’s faced with their meeting place, surprised to find Madara already there.

Even though he’s usually always late. Sitting inside by the window, looking out onto the street with a slight frown, Madara keeps worrying his bottom lip and, apparently, trying to break a spoon.

It paints an endearing picture. Tobirama sighs, feeling a smile tugging at his lips.

This man...

Tobirama comes in, approaching him slowly, allowing himself a few moments to watch Madara needlessly fix his wild mane of hair, appraise his reflection in the spoon, try out several fake-looking smiles before settling on a scowl and going back to his nervous tics again. With another sigh, Tobirama takes the few steps left to his date, repeating Hashirama’s advice over and over in his head.

Just be yourselfーand have fun!

Just a few minutes into their date, it becomes obvious that Madara didn’t get the same advice from Hashirama.

Or just didn’t get the advice, period.

With their orders made and beverages served, they’re left to wallow in a less than comfortable silence, broken only by Madara’s... uncharacteristic attempts at conversation.

“Are you enjoying the tea?” Madara asks Tobirama with all of the softness of a brick wall.

Tobirama isn’t used to the man being eloquent, much less polite, and he has yet to have at least one conversation with Madara that doesn’t devolve into a pissing contest. So theoretically, Tobirama should be enjoying this.

But it only seems wrong. Annoying. Not them.

He tries to recall if, maybe, their first meeting was an adequate exchange? Tobirama thinks to the day Hashirama first introduced them. Only flashes of spilled milkshakes and jibes at intelligence run through his mind, and of course that was the very first time he’d called Madara an idiot pipsqueak, receiving quite the lame ‘stuck-up dandelion’ in turn.

Unsurprising.

“Yes,” Tobirama says, taking another sip as he eyes Madara struggling on the other side of the table. Struggling to do what is the question: either sit straight, or assume a more relaxed posture, or reach towards his own drink, or avoid eye contact, even though he keeps glancing his way when he thinks Tobirama won’t notice. Tobirama does, every time, and that just makes the whole ordeal more awkward. “Nice weather,” Tobirama says, with about as much enthusiasm.

If Madara wants to play this stupid game, Tobirama will indulge. Just to see how long it takes for Madara to break and return to his blustering status quo.

“Yeah...” Madara clears his throat, eye twitching as he manages to hold Tobirama’s gaze for a commendable three seconds this time. “Hate the sun. I meanーI mean I love the sun. Ugh. It just, uh. Burns.”

It’s both saddening and funny to see Madara visibly deflate.

“Skin too sensitive, huh?” Tobirama starts small. “Just like your ego?”

Madara’s jaw clenches and his nervous look shifts into a glare before he looks away again, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to calm himself down before he flashes an unnaturally cheery smile.

“Heh, nice,” Madara grits through his teeth, “nice joke, Senju.”

Tobirama raises his eyebrow as Madara flinches at his own words.

“I’m glad you appreciate my sense of humor,” Tobirama says, barely reining in a smirk.

“Sure! You’reーyou’re funny.”

“And?”

“And what?” Madara frowns, confused.

“And what else am I?” Tobirama demands, feigning thoughtfulness. “A recent assessment of yours was that I look and act like a self-obsessed dumbass, I think.”

“No-no,” Madara blurts out, looking much a cornered animal, “I think you... you are... you look not at all so terrible today?” he finishes with a nervous chuckle, running a hand through his hair.

Tobirama wants to scream from the agony.

No. This won’t do, otherwise he might as well leave.

“Can you just call me a stuck-up asshole like you always do or recite one of those horrible limerick disses?” he demands.

Madara actually yelps. “What? No! I mean, wait.” He narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“Because you’re acting weird.”

“We’re on a date, if you were too stupーpreoccupied to get my invitation, Senju,” Madara says, jaw still clenched as he doubtless refrains from swearing, “and I’m being civil!”

That’s the advice he must have gotten from Anija, Tobirama thinks.

What a tragedy.

“Madara,” Tobirama implores, leaning his eyebrows on the table and meeting Uchiha’s gaze, “have you considered thatーI prefer it when you aren’t?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, thank fuck!” Madara slams his hands on the table, heaving a massive sigh as Tobirama laughs in relief. “I was ready to fucking die, you piece of shit! How does your brother stay so fucking kind all the time, it’s fucking torture!”

Tobirama rolls his eyes. “It’s a talent, naturally. Just like your talent at embarrassing yourself and mine at being awesome.”

“You’ve got it a little backwards, Senju,” Madara sneers, “but it’s excusable, given your level of intellect.”

“Twice as high as yours?” Tobirama parries.

“Twice as little.”

“That’s more like it,” Tobirama says, grinning despite himself, “I thought you were a decoy or something. You’ve told me to fuck off every single day since we first met and this was getting worrisome.”

Madara’s laugh is sudden, melodic, sending those irritating tingling sensations through Tobirama’s body. He makes an effort to appear outwardly calm.

“Maybe because you managed to piss me the fuck off every day that I’ve known you,” Madara scoffs, “but you’re all right sometimes. I guess.” He shrugs, feigning nonchalance even as he keeps nervously fixing and running his fingers through his hair.

A stupid, tantalizing habit. Tobirama imagines carding his own hands through the messy locks, tugging Madara’s head back toー

He forcefully aborts the thought process before he’s faced with a problem of the harder kind. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll try to strangle each other when we game together.”

“We’re playing today?” Madara asks.

Tobirama tilts his head to the side.

“You haven’t planned one gaming session after our date?”

“Um,” Madara says, blinking rapidly, “why should I be the one with the plan?”

“Because you’re the one who invited me,” Tobirama deadpans. And anyway, Madara is always the one to egg Tobirama on to gaming, which would usually only ever lead to semi-playful brawls and their fighting making Hashirama cry.

And without Anija there to assault them with his antics, Tobirama wonders what their play-fighting might lead to... and promptly shuts off those thoughts again. Control, dammit.

Madara opens his mouth, then closes it, sighs explosively and says, “All right, fair enough. But you’re the strategy pro here. And my thing is RPGs.” He smirks. “I can improvise.”

And Madara does, in fact, improvise, leading Tobirama on what he hopes is a satisfying daylong adventure. It’s strange, walking by themselves around Konoha without anyone else with them (not that they’ve taken to ignoring Hashirama and Mito anyway on their most recent group outings), free to talk about and do anything they want. Strange and perfect, the way Tobirama switches between poorly concealed bashfulness and his usual confidence, as their jokes and jibes at each other, every little prank they pull never fails to make them both laugh.

It’s perfect.

Just like Tobirama’s smile is, directed at him without any pretenses as they set off to explore the lush, gigantic forest surrounding the city, rumored to be home to mythical, many-tailed creatures. And that’s followed by their forays into an abandoned chemistry lab; the scares they get in the woods from intermittent growls coming from the shadows are nothing compared to the horror Madara feels when Tobirama insists on touching broken vials and experimental equipment, and going through doors with dilapidated ‘DANGER. CHEMICAL HAZARD’ signs.

“If we’re infected by some deadly and insidious poison,” Madara whispers as they explore the lab’s tunnels, “I’m going to fucking kill you before it does. Painfully.”

“It’s for science,” Tobirama says. “And trust me. We’re safe. I got a degree in this.”

“Youtube is practically your full-time job at this point. What the fuck else do you need?”

“The satisfaction of discovering something cool?”

“And deadly.”

"Unlikely.”

Madara groans, cursing his life, as well as his inability to say no to hisーapparentlyーnew boyfriend.

The boyfriend who’s just discovered another hidden pathway to a deeper level and has scurried off towards it like an excited five-year-old. Despite himself, despite his intent to keep complaining, Madara can’t hold back the grin tugging at his lips.

Still perfect.

Just like their lunch date which turns into a picnic by the Naka river, where Madara remembers meeting Hashirama way back when. Just like the first time Tobirama grasps his hand, fingers gently massaging it as he laughs at Madara stuttering to a stop from whatever rant he’d been on, heart in his throat and mind suddenly focused on whether his palms are too sweaty or not.

His mind goes blank. Eyes focus only on the man in front of him, whom he yearns to strangle just as often as he craves to tackle him onto any surface and ruin him completely. And it should feel wrong, it should be, only Madara hasn’t quite felt so right about anything in a long time, and with every minute they spend with their familiar bickering, just with a layer of something more behind it this time, it becomes harder and harder to deny how good being near Tobirama makes him feel. Happy. Complete.

Madara winces. Oh, gods. He’s waxing poetic now.

All worries about that fly out the window when Tobirama, without so much as a word of warning, leans in and draws Madara by his collar into a kiss.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t spring up to awaken alone in his bed like he always does, after dreams like these.

And, unsurprisingly, it turns out to be Madara’s best kiss to date.

Maybe he’s exaggerating, if just because he’s been craving this so damn much. Tobirama’s lips are hot, gentle, and welcoming against his, a curious tongue darting out to coax Madara’s lips open and deepen the kiss. The delightful drag of his tongue, his hands, rough and demanding on Madara’s chest, waist, thighsーit’s not long before he’s dizzy with it, barely holding back moans of pleasure for fear of sounding too desperate.

“Fuck,” Madara gasps as they pull away for breath, lips still touching as their eyes stay locked and he’s treated to Tobirama’s downright ravenous gaze. “That wasー”

Tobirama cuts him off with another kiss, then another, and it’s not long before they find themselves tangled in a mess of limbs and loose clothing. The hard ground presses against Madara’s back as Tobirama settles on top of him, ravaging Madara’s mouth with a passion that soon has his pants feeling too tight.

Fuck.

He groans, hips thrusting of their own accord and feeling Tobirama's own erection through the fabric.

Madara makes an immense effort to pull away, stifling a whine at the loss of contact.

“Bed,” he says, mortified at his own crudeness far too late after the word comes out. “Fuck, I meantー”

“Yes,” Tobirama growls, capturing Madara’s lips in another open-mouthed kiss before he hauls him up to start gathering their things. “Your place or mine?”

“Yours? Izuna,” Madara rasps, head too clouded to explain more in-depth, but Tobirama seems to understand.

“Anija shouldn’t be back for a while,” Tobirama says, a devastating grin on his face, “lots of time for us to play.”

Gods.

Madara scrambles to his feet fast enough to stumble, and for once, Tobirama has nothing to say about his clumsiness.

They all but crash through the front door, not even bothering to lock it as they rush through a cursory check to make sure Hashirama is out like he said he’d be.

“Fuck, thank the gods,” Tobirama sighs in relief before dragging Madara back into liplock.

Madara can’t hold back a moan this time, heat ratcheting up between them as he wraps his hands around Tobirama’s neck, pulling him closer as they stumble to the couch. Madara ends up straddling him just so that their cocks brush through too-rough clothing, kiss growing urgent and sloppy, as wandering hands touching every inch of uncovered skin.

Clothes fall away, leaving them both shirtless, and Madara needs a few moments to take in the miles of pale skin, so soft to the touch, toned muscles rippling as Tobirama squirms under him, gasps and groans escaping his lips in answer to every one of Madara’s touches. He leans in to mouth Tobirama’s neck, sucking bruising kisses onto the soft skin there pleasure flaring at the base of his stomach each time Tobirama moans and arches against him.

“You’re so sensitive,” Madara whispers, with a hint of incredulity. “That’s... fuck.”

“Yeah,” Tobirama rasps, eyes unfocused, “because... just get on with it.”

“If I knew this is what it took to finally get you to shut up,” Madara chuckles, “I would have tried this a long time ago.”

If he weren’t so sure Tobirama genuinely despised him. Butー

“I fucking wished you would!” Tobirama snaps, though the irritation rings hollow with the breathless tone.

Madara blinks in shock.

“You did?” Madara asks, moving lower to lap at Tobirama’s nipple, sucking the hardened nub into his mouth and eliciting another delicious whimper. “You thought about this? About my hands on you, touching you?”

“Yes!” The desperation in his tone only adds to Madara’s mounting confidence, one that he so rarely ever feels in Tobirama’s presence.

“My mouth on your cock,” he continues, heart hammering against his ribs as he trails kisses lower and lower, “would you like that? While I finger you, getting you ready to take me?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Tobirama’s hips jerk, making them both moan at the friction.

“Off,” Madara grunts, tugging at Tobirama’s pants with one hand as the other works the belt off his own. They scramble, a bit awkwardly, until they’re both naked and sprawled on top of each other, and Madara all but drools at the sight of Tobirama’s cock, hard and straining, beads of precum already leaking from the tip.

Perfect.

It’s tempting to just let go but Madara decides to take his time. Strokes Tobirama’s sides and chest, fingers his nipples, kisses every inch of skin he can reach, sucking bruises and biting slightly. He marvels at every little keen and groan he wrings from Tobirama, relishing how needy he grows with each second, how he moans Madara’s name, curses him and urges Madara to touch him, sliding his dick against his and huffing when Madara doesn’t do anything about it, before finally devolving into pleading.

Just what Madara’s been waiting for.

“Madara, please,” Tobirama’s whines, a soft, desperate sound that makes Madara groan in turn.

“Please what?” he asks, knowing he’s being a tease and enjoying the hell out of it.

Tobirama musters a pretty non-intimidating glare. “Just... fuck.”

“Tell me.”

“Fuck you.”

“Is that what you want?” Madara raises an eyebrow, making sure to wet his lips, letting his tongue gently graze the head of Tobirama’s cock. “I can bottom. I don’t mind.”

“Fuck!” Tobirama squeezes his eyes shut, heavy breathing interspersed with desperate whines. “Just... suck me off. Please. Now.”

“That’s it, Tobirama,” Madara drags out the syllables of his name, a smirk tugging at his lips, “when you ask so nicely, how can I refuse?”

He wraps his lipsーfinallyーaround the head, licking at the salty fluid gathered there, ears ringing from the heady feel of Tobirama’s cock against his mouth, his hands tangling in Madara’s hair, the sounds slipping from Tobirama’s lips that are borderline fucking obscene. Madara takes a breath to brace himself and takes Tobirama a few inches deeper. His length is hot, stiff, and heavy in his mouth as Madara presses the flat of his tongue against the underside, sucking hard, wringing another delectable whimper. Tobirama’s thrusts up, cock hitting the back of his throat, and Madara chokes for a moment, his own dick jerking at the sensation.

“Madara,” Tobirama breathes, “Madara, gods, you feel amazing.”

The words send another rush of pleasure through him, and Madara takes himself in hand to release some of the unbearable tension, stroking himself slowly as he relaxes his throat and sinks down to take Tobirama to the base.

Tobirama’s moan is a sweet, drawn-out melody. One that Madara enjoys making louder and louder as he starts moving, setting a fast-paced rhythm, uncaring for how debauched he may look, drool leaking out of his mouth and coating Tobirama’s cock, throat constricting around it as he takes him deep, lets him stay there, tongue gliding along his shaft. Tobirama soon devolves into barely coherent pleading, until ‘please’, and ‘more’, and Madara’s name are the only words coming out of his mouth.

It’s intoxicating. Overwhelming, far too much. Madara gives up stroking himself, the pleasure ramping up far too quickly, too soon, though Tobirama isn’t doing much better. Madara draws his lips up along his length, lapping up more precum gathered at the head, even as Tobirama’s hips jerk again and the hand in Madara’s hair tightens, urging him back down.

“Madara, please,” Tobirama keens, “I need...”

Madara has a pretty good idea of what he needs. He swirls his tongue over the head, descending again until his nose is pressed against Tobirama’s stomach. Madara swallows around him once, twice, a third time before he feels Tobirama nudging at his shoulder in a warning he doesn’t pay heed to, starting to bob his head again, wrapping his fingers around the base of Tobirama’s cock, using both his mouth and hand to bring him to completion.

“Fuck, Madara, Iー”

Madara lets out a muffled groan once he feels cum spilling against his tongue, swallowing rapidly as Tobirama’s cock pulses, again and again, through an orgasm that has him writhing and and trembling underneath him, hands tightening in Madara’s hair enough to hurt with the kind of tantalizing pain that only adds to the pleasure.

“You feel so fucking good,” Tobirama pants, watching Madara through white lashes, eyes dark and hazy as another shudder runs through him, “fuckーI want...”

Madara releases him with a wet pop. “Want what, Tobirama?” he whispers, voice too hoarse for him to speak properly.

Tobirama grips his shoulders in lieu of an answer, directing Madara to turn around so his back is pressed against his chest.

Then Tobirama’s hand wraps around his cock andーoh.

Madara has pretty much forgotten about his own pleasure, too focused on not coming too soon and making sure Tobirama was enjoying himself.

“My turn,” Tobirama murmurs against his ear, tone still breathless but with a commanding edge to it now that makes Madara shiver, “and lemmeーlet me hear you, Madara.”

Gods. He groans just from the sound of Tobirama’s voice. The feel of his teeth nibbling at his earlobe, his hand setting a quick, harsh rhythm that builds up the pleasure to impossible degrees. Tobirama’s heated skin pressed against his back, his thighs, the fingers of his other hand carding through his hair with a gentleness that contrasts with his harshness before.

It’s too much.

“Go on, Madara.”

Tobirama’s fingers swiping at the precome gathering at the head of Madara’s cock, smearing it over his shaft. His voice, a muffled whisper coaxing Madara to let go, to come for him, to say Tobirama’s nameー

“Just like that, Madara,” Tobirama grunts, “louder for me, come on.”

Madara thrusts into his grip, all but fucking into Tobirama’s fist at this point, moans his name as the heat grows unbearable the closer he gets to release.

“To-bi-rama...” He comes with a broken groan slipping from his lips as cum spills all over his stomach and Tobirama’s hand, each pulse coming stronger than the last, leaving him dizzy and boneless in Tobirama’s arms for however long it takes for his orgasm to abate.

Feels like forever. Probably a lot less. Time does seem to slow down, though, both of them collapsing against each other onto the cushions, breathing raggedly and curling into each other as Madara turns to bury his head in the crook of Tobirama’s neck.

It still seems unreal. Too perfect. So right.

They lie there for a minutes, coming down from the high, limbs tangled and lazy kisses exchanged here and there. Tobirama looks so peaceful, like Madara’s never seen him before: eyes half-lidded, hair messier than ever, sticking in every direction, skin still flushed and marked, all over, with hickeys and teeth marks, the mere sight of which has Madara’s dick stirring in interest, recent orgasm or no.

“You know,” Madara says, hands running over Tobirama’s chest, barely grazing his still sensitive nipples and making him shiver, “if this is the game you want to play, I’m really not against binging it. The rest of the dayーweekend, if you want.” Madara presses a kiss to Tobirama’s neck. “Make the playthrough as thorough as possible.” To his collarbone. “Unlock all achievements and, uh,” Madara trails his hand along Tobirama’s chest to his groin, past his length and to his ass, "explore every location.”

“If that was some thinly veiled euphemism,” Tobirama says, barely holding in laughter, “for you wanting to fuck me sideways...” Madara holds Tobirama’s gaze as his fingers hover just over Tobirama’s hole. “Then Madara, for fuck’s sake, stop trying to be subtle and get to work.”

Madara barks out a laugh.

“Whatever you say, Tobirama.”

Madara dips his voice low and deep, like he’s noticed Tobirama loves, and relishes the whimper it earns him. Relishes the way Tobirama arches against him, looking for friction, how delectable he looks, ready and responsive, so eager for Madara’s touch.

He knows then and there that if it’s up to him, Madara will do anything to make this last.

#madatobi #tobimada #modern au #youtuber au #lou writes #idiots in love #madara is in denial (and thirsting)#tobirama is laughing (and equally thirsting) from the sidelines #fluff and smut #humor #meow

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ithisatanytime · 3 years

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i slept for like an hour, sideways on my bed in my clothes, things have gone more or less back to normal, i feel like shit all day, feel ok around midnight for a few hours, cant think about the future or the past, or the present really. sadness is lurking around and comes in waves whenever i think about anything or relax. for as fucked up as everything was i felt closer to god than i have ever felt in my life for a couple months, but i ruined absolutely everything, and god took care of the rest. the thing is again im not that sad, im in pain but its manageable its just the future as reality inevitably sets in, i just cant think about it.

like i want to be dead but i dont want to die, i think thats a common sentiment these days. for me though i feel like god is against me, or at least has been against everything ive ever tried to do. its a hard concept to explain without sounding negative, there are people who just cant be helped and honestly im one. i could give a laundery list of examples whereby i tried to change my circumstances for the better even in just some small way and it was like life or fate was conspiring against me tirelessly. the effort i put in these past few months, you wouldnt believe it, i mean i laugh about that weird shift i worked washing dishes at a chinese restuarant but it just goes to show i am not against working hard, like i had a completely fucking busted leg, this was like a day or two after my kneecap slipped out of place and damaged the surrounding tendons and ligaments, and they called me back as i was walking to the restuarant to get a singapore chowfun. and i just said sure ill work you know, i was covered in scabs on my face and neck, i really looked like shit but i was like fuck it i have to try. i didnt even get paid for my shift, i got a free singapore noodles.

i was out all day and night, either at the gym or the beach or whatever, talking to people trying to network, tried calling my ex you know, not on purpose that just sort of happened, thought i was dying knew i was losing my mind and i knew she would be the only one who would help me, and she did. but i was just constantly trying so hard, and its like the world just opened up and swallowed all my progress, destroyed everything i tried to build, took what little i had. i just dont know what to make of it.

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angrylizardjacket · 6 years

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always been close {Roger Taylor}

Anon asked: okay i LLOOOOVe your Ben hardy/roger taylor fics and i was wondering if you could write more of them? I don't have a particular request (anything you write will probably be fantastic) but i do really like a smug or cheeky roger taylor.... so do what you want with that...

Anon asked: Could I request a Roger Taylor x reader fanfic where they’ve been good friends for years,the other members know the reader too but one day the hook up and the other members notice that something happened between them and at the end they somehow end up together.I want a lot of shocking reactions from the boys as I live for them.You don’t need to write it if you don’t like the idea.But thank you ! 💗

A/N: 2870 words. Me, cramming as many prompts into a singular trenchcoat and shoving it out into the world: are you not entertained?! also.... like, light to medium smut..... i might start writing all out smut. Not exactly what was asked for, but it was a fun time. Jealousy warning as well.

“So how do you know Rog?” Deacon smiles at you when you offer to help the boys pack up after their first show, it’s a kind smile, a smile you can trust. Brian and Roger like him well enough, and you at least trust Brian’s judgement enough to be friendly to their new bassist.

“I don’t.” You tell him, straight-faced as you haul the bass drum into the back of van. Deacon’s expression turns confused as Roger passes you another piece of equipment. Looking the newest band member directly in the eyes, you double down on the bit. “I’ve never met this man before in my life.”

“I’m getting a beer, you want your usual?” Roger calls to you, and you turn back, making a face at him. “I’m done packing up, Brian’s the only one left.” He responded to your nonverbal complaint by making a flippant gesture to the guitarist, who was clicking the last of the latches shut on his guitar case. “Drink?” He asked you again, and instead of answering you just beamed at him. Poor Deacon just looked confused.

“Pay them no mind, Deaky.” Brian said, sliding his guitar case in the back beside the bass. “It’s a blessing they’re even coherent half the time.” Brian, exasperated, turned to you. “How’d you meet Rog?” He asked, voice flat as if it were a question he’d asked a hundred times before, and you looked back at him.

“He killed me in a past life and I’m biding my time for revenge.” You responded, expressionless, to which he shook his head.

“That’s a new one.” He would give you that much, before turning to John. “Y/N and Rog grew up together.” He said by way of explanation, speaking over the top of Roger shouting from the door that they’d run out of your favourite drink, but that you could share his beer if it came to it.

“You drink piss-water and I can see mine in your hand.” You accused, while Roger leaned down, his lips at the rim of the glass that held your drink.

“These are both for me.” Somehow, he thought the best course of action was to take a drink from the one obviously for you, slurping the top of it obnoxiously.

“Children, children, get in the car.” Freddie called over the top of you both, and you took the opportunity to snatch your drink from Roger’s hand, spilling it both on him and yourself, though you still thought a crow of triumph was warranted.

“So how do you know Roger?” The girl he’s brought along to the band’s first album recording is pretty enough, dark hair, cute shorts. She smiles at you and it’s all teeth, something a little bit nasty and insinuating in her tone. It takes a moment for you to suppress your eyeroll, you’d dealt with this before any girl who was into Roger seemed to see you as competition, and as flattering as it was when the two of you started hitting the town together, it was wearing thin now.

“I’m his personal bodyguard.” You tell her, and the girl purses her lips, but doesn’t say anything else. Mary hides her laughter behind her hand, and drapes her other arm against the back of the sofa, an open invitation for you to lean against her and watch as the boys set up in the other room.

They record for hours, trying everything and anything, experimenting with everything they had, making music, dancing, living electrically for the time they had in there. The woman he’d brought takes most opportunities to throw herself on him, dance with him, keeping it relatively tame for present company, but you knew the look in his eyes, and in hers.

The last take of the night is when her thinly-veiled jealousy shtick is wearing thin on you, and you leap up after his final recording session, jostling the sleeping Mary where she was lying on your lap, running to him. Wrapping your arms around him, you let him spin you around in elation.

“That was good! That was so good, wasn’t it, Y/N?” And he’s glowing with excitement, eyes only for you. You answer in kind, gushing about the music, how excited you were for it. There’s triumph running through your veins when the other girl has to clear her throat to get his attention. He went home with her, but you still feel victorious.

It’s a feeling you’d always experienced, since you were young; at first it was only the two of you, both of you going to the same high school a district away, not knowing anyone. But Roger had a magnetism to him, and an aggression that brought in a certain type of person. You weren’t lonely, no more than any other high schooler, but for all yours and his friends, you both made damn sure to stay best friends.

It continued into university; he’d brought you in to meet the band at the first gig, and they took to you immediately, so you kept coming, would help them pack up, make yourself indispensable, earn your place as Roger’s best friend in this world he’d cultivated around himself.

And now here you were, the final gig before he and the others officially drop out to become serious musicians... Or, there you were, because after half an hour of drinking and throwing peanuts at Roger and the girl he was with - who had said the band was shit, though the drummer was cute, while in the bathroom - Roger had dragged her out to the car he had managed to scrape together enough cash for.

“Roger?” Now you’re just tired, lying in his bed, wearing his shirt. “Why’d you bring me back here? I was a dick to you, to-” you can’t remember the name of the girl he was with, but she was just trying to have a good time, you know you shouldn’t have-

“Stop talking.” He yawned as he walked into the room, wearing his pyjamas shorts and drinking from a half-filled bottle of water. When he sense you’re about to say something else, he puts up a hand, eyebrows raised at your possible defiance, and you close your mouth, sulking.

Climbing into bed with you, the two of you shift automatically, your head resting on his chest as he wrapped an arm around you, looking up at the ceiling. The two of you hadn’t shared a bed like this in years.

“Sorry.” You find yourself murmuring as he strokes your back, well, as much as he can with half of it being used as part of your pillow.

“Why’ve you gotta be like this?” He sighed, but you just tucked up closer to him.

“I thought we weren’t talking about it.” Voice low, you feel a quiet, self-deprecating laughter rumble through his chest, and his hand comes to rest at your hip, fingertips brushing against your thigh where his shirt ends. You’re waiting, holding your breath to see what he would do. You know he’s looking at, can feel his gaze on your face, but he doesn’t stop, fingers moving slowly just beneath the fabric of the shirt to your underwear. His thumb slides beneath the elastic, and finally you look up at him. He’s so serious, God, you could cut the tension with a knife, and it snaps as he does, pulling the elastic of your panties up in one quick flick and letting it snap against your side.

“Ow! That hurt, you asshole!” You laugh, shifting to prop yourself up on your elbow, but he’s already pulling you down for a kiss, grinning against you lips. It feels like it should. You fit together easily, his hand moving to keep your hips steady as you shift automatically to straddle him. “You’re such a dick sometimes.” You pull back, still grinning, lips still only inches from his. He raises his eyebrows pointedly at you, and you’re pretty sure there’s nothing hotter than Roger’s smug fucking face, as he then proceeds to graze his nails up your thighs, kissing you to swallow the whimper that escaped you.

It feels like it’s been a long time coming. It’s fun, but its not unfamiliar; you’ve known each other for so long it’s like it’s a natural progression. You can read each other like a favourite book, somehow instinctual and a little awkward, which is, well, it’s perfectly you two.

“You know what? I don’t think I’m actually sorry for cockblocking you tonight.” You mused, a little out of breath, shooting for serious. Though it takes Roger a moment to process what you said, he grins up at you, gently poking a spot on your inner thigh where he knows a hickey will bloom.

“Maybe should thank you.” He snorts, which only goes to set you off laughing again. The sound of it, warm, syrupy and at ease, it makes him grin, proud of being able to illicit such a genuine laugh from you in this situation, and soon you’re pulling him up to kiss him again, still thrumming with laughter.

No-one notices at first. Well, to be fair, you and Roger are weirdly touchy, so if he’s pinching your ass more than usual, no-one seems to care enough to comment on it. Well, you notice, but you couldn’t care less. Things between you have shifted; not gotten weird or bad, just shifted sideways. Roger’s still sleeping with any practically any girl that throws herself at him, and you’re free to hook up with anyone and everyone you like, but sometimes... you just find yourself together at the end of the night.

One night, the girl he’s talking to at the bar gives you a catty look when he’s not looking. She saw the two of you come in together, never mind the cute guy who had been buying you drinks for the past hour. Excusing the poor guy who you know is now probably going home alone tonight, you make your way to the bathroom, leaning against the wall beside it, watching Roger and waiting until you catch his eye.

He frowns slightly at you, but you just nod towards the bathroom and raise your eyebrows in silent question. It’s almost comical how fast he leaves the girl at the bar. When she follows his trajectory with her eyes, she sees you waiting; you wink at her, the grin on your face stretching into something smug as Roger wraps his fingers around your wrist, pulling you into the bathroom. Mine.

It’s not like you do that every time you go out together, just if you get bad vibes off whoever he’s with, or if she makes a face at you like you’re some sort of competition... which you are, but you don’t want to seem like it.

The thing is, Roger does it too, he’s just a tad more possessive. Sometimes he’s subtle, mentioning to you and whoever you’re with that you had to go; band rehearsals early the next morning, even though it was usually a lie. Your favourite, however, was the night you both went to a dingy little pub with a jukebox rather than a band, and the guy who had been plying you with alcohol had come back from the bathroom with a grin. You were tipsy, feeling on top of the world with this stranger’s hand on your thigh, when out of nowhere, Roger’s arms wrap around you, warm and familiar.

“You right there, mate?” The man at the bar had snapped.

“He called you a ditzy bitch in the bathroom.” Roger had murmured against your ear, low enough so only you could hear, and in your liberated state, you were ready to yell at the man, though the man had enough yelling of his own to do.

“Alright, you wanna go, mate?” He growls, standing, and your smile turns poisonous as a new thought occurs to you.

“Yeah, Rog, do you wanna go?” The soft, amused nuance in your voice conveyed such a different message that it was laughable, you turn your head to rest your forehead against his where he’s perched his chin on your shoulder. The man at the bar deflates a little as you lose interest in him, and Roger’s smile widens.

“Sounds like a plan.” She mine. It’s there in his eyes, the way he keeps an arm around you as you leave the bar, you feel it thrumming through him as pulls off your shirt in the back of his car.

Sometimes you head to bars with the boys and Mary, sometimes they still play pub gigs, and yet they still don’t seem to realise. Or, most of them don’t seem to realise.

“You and Roger are hanging out a lot.” Mary smiles at you, a glint of mischief in her eyes as you watch the boys complain about trying to fit their gear in Brian’s stationwagon.

“Of course, he’s my best mate.” Shrugging noncommittally, you hear Mary hum, unconvinced. Shooting her a suspicious look, she just shrugs in return, mimicking your own dismissive gesture.

“You want me to give you a lift home?” As if to prove Mary right, Roger calls out to you, pulling out his keys. You can feel Mary’s pointed look, and your expression falters, shaking your head with a smile, though your heart’s not in it.

“No, I-” you start, but then the rest of the band is looking at you, “there’s someone at the bar.” Gesturing over your shoulder awkwardly, you give them all a strained smile and head back inside. Catching Roger’s expression, he actually... looks hurt, and a little jealous, though he covers it up quickly.

“Can I ask you something?” The pub’s doors closed behind you, and you’re fully intending to stumble into a taxi when a voice is heard behind you. Whipping around and almost losing your balance, you spot Roger, leaning against the edge of the building.

“Do not sneak up on me like that Rog.” You admonished him, reaching an arm out to him for support, and he’s there automatically, wrapping his arm around you.

“What are we doing?” It’s actually snowing outside, and you’re tempted to say freezing my ass off, but he seems serious.

“Fuckin’ around.” You mumble, turning to wrap both your arms around him. “You’re my best friend.” Voice dreamy, you feel it when his arms tighten around you.

“Best friend.” He repeats, quietly, and you hum thoughtfully for a moment.

“Mine.” The word is firm as you speak it, and he leans back, eyebrows furrowed.

“What does that mean, Y/N?” He asked, and with the distance between you, he watches as snowflakes drifted about, settling on your closed eyelashes.

“Means I hate that you fuck other girls, Rog, but you’re my best friend and an adult so you can do what you want.” It takes you a moment to get the full sentence out around your vaguely uncooperative tongue, but when you open your eyes, he’s smirking at you.

“There was no guy at the bar.” It was a statement rather than a question, but you snorted with laughter anyways.

“’course not, you knob. Mary was getting suspicious though.” You told him, and he had to muffle a laugh at that. After a beat, you raise your eyebrows at him. “And yet, Roger, you walked all the way back here and waited until I was kicked out to spend time with me.”

“Yeah, well, gotta look after what’s mine.”

“Those look fresh.” Mary poked at the hickey on your throat, commenting loud enough for the boys to hear as the two of you draped yourselves across the sofa in the rehearsal room. Giving her a shit-eating grin, you can see Roger’s own wicked smile where he’s tweaking his drum kit.

“That’s because they are.” Swatting her away, you pulled a magazine from your bag, flipping it open.

“So the boy at the bar-?” Mary giggled, shifting to read over your shoulder, though you weren’t paying attention to the words.

“Oh no, this is all Roger’s work.” Shooting for nonchalant, you can hear the others stop their tuning as Roger continued to set up. Looking up, you can see Mary grinning out of the corner of your eye, Brian looking like he was quickly forming a headache, John frowning into space, deep in thought, and Freddie looking between the two of you.

“How long’s this been going on?” He asked, seemingly still unsure about the nature of the relationship.

“A while.” Roger supplies, which John echoes as a question.

“Year, maybe?” You look to Roger, for confirmation, and he shrugs, making a noise of vague confirmation. Brian finally unfreezes where he’s got his base in one hand, and other pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What the fuck, guys?”

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #borhap imagine #queen #queen imagine #ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #the angry lizard writes

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pizzarollpatrol · 6 years

Text

Fic Rec List #2 10/28/18

If any of the links don’t work, please let me know!. Just wanted to say thank you to all the authors on this list. You and all the effort you put into your fics are very much appreciated 💖

Kiss of Life by @sincerelymlg

Summary: Bucky and the reader go on a mission that quickly takes a turn for the worst.

Flustered by @notimetoblog

Summary: It’s easy to see when Bucky is flustered. His mannerisms are beyond adorable but they might be hiding something more. --- I’m such a hoe for soft!bucky. I loved this fic, its so sweet and endearing.

Quick Stories by @notimetoblog

Summary: Waking up early with Bucky is not always so bad. Bucky x reader.

Marry Me by @buckymorelikefuckmebarnes

Summary: Wedding day. (thats a shitty summary im so sorry) --- You thought this fics was shit but HA you are so wrong because it broke me :) Bucky x Reader

Death Do Us Part by @sgtjbuccky

Summary: For centuries, the God of Death had known two things about mortals. One, they were his job, his to collect when their days came to an end, and two, they were obnoxiously odd beings. Their purpose ceased to make sense to him. Never did he understand thy they created a life for themselves, why they loved, why they love other morals when they knew none of it would last forever. It was nothing but sheer stupidity, but that was until he met you. A mortal unlike any other. A mortal that would make him question everything. A mortal that would teach the God of Death how to live. God of Death!Bucky x Mortal!Reader. Ongoing series --- Wow. Where do I even begin? I absolutely love this series, its so different from others that I’ve read. I loved every chapter.

A Supernatural Marvel by @angelkurenai

Summary: Imagine being transported in the Supernatural universe, with no memory of your life, where you become a hunter and fall in love with Dean. Only for a very important person from your past to come looking for you and change it all. Dean Winchester x Reader, Steve Rodgers x Reader. Ongoing series. --- This is one of my current favorite series!! You really know how to keep us on our toes, I love it!!

Take Me Higher by @buckychrist

Summary: Who knew that the way into the big broody super soldier’s heart was through his unmet need for a good cuddle? Bucky x Reader. --- If a fic has a cuddly bucky, sign me the fuck up. I loved this, its so sweet.

Educating Bucky by @buckfics

Virgin 1930′s Bucky x Reader. Smut. --- Holy fuck. This has got to be my absolute favorite smut I’ve literally ever read. I get so happy when it pops up on my dash again. There isn't a damn thing I dont love about this fic. Its so sweet and believable and I just cant stop myself from reading it.

Sincerely, Me by @buckitybarnes

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a quiet fellow when it comes to socializing with you. After one mishap, however, he finds a way to communicate his feelings without speaking so much. You’ve soon come to learn not every relationship has to be verbal to be important. Bucky x Reader. Completed series.

A Week in Boston by @blacktithe7

Summary: It was your first vacation in years. Just one week all by yourself in the big city of Boston. No rules. No expectations. Just a list of places to go and things you wanted to see. That all changed the you run into a certain blue-eyed Boston boy who turned your world upside down. Is it really possible to fall in love with someone in just one week? Or is that kind of love just a fairytale? Chris Evens x Reader. Ongoing series.

Stubborn Love by @barnesrogersvstheworld

Prompt: You cant live your life based on “what-ifs”. Steve Roders x Reader. --- This was so intense, I loved every word.

Date Night by @jaamesbbarnes

Summary: Heavily pregnant but very tired, you still insist to go out for your usual date night with your boyfriend. Chris Beck x Reader. --- This is one of the sweetest fics I ever read. I’ve never heard of “stardust” being used as a pet name and I swear my heart exploded when I read it.

Body Guard by @oliverwxod

Summary: Tony Stark is a very rich man and with that came a lot of enemies. After a tragic event Tony decides himself and the people most important to him, especially his daughter, are in danger. He hires personal body guards. Bucky Barnes is assigned to Y/n Stark, the most troublesome, reckless Stark that there is. Bucky x Reader. Body guard!AU. Ongoing series.--- Absolutely loved this series! So many twists and turns!

40 Days by @abaddonwithyall

Summary: Dean and you are already in an established relationship when he tempts you to give up orgasms for Lent. The only catch? Anyone and Everyone is open to trying to get you off. Let the games begin. Dean x Reader. Eventual Sam x reader, Castiel x reader, Gabriel x reader, Crowley x reader, Charlie x reader, Bela x reader, John x reader, Gadreel x reader, Lucifer x reader, Rowena x reader, Benny x reader, Jo x reader etc. Smut. Uncompleted series. (its from 2016, only the last two parts are missing but its all good) --- This is pure filth and its amazing.

Starved by @theonewiththefanfics

Summary: The Reader is a touchy-feely kind of a person and when she joins the Avengers nothing changes. Apart from the fact that Bucky Barnes is so touch starved, he craves for the soft feel of her skin against his and is over the moon when she treats him the same way she treats everybody else. Yet now day she simply stops, and he doesn't know why. Bucky x reader. Smut

You Aren't My Father by @winchesters-favorite-girl

Summary: When Sam shuts the gates of hell, Dean promised that he would take care of Sam’s little girl. However, things didn't go the way anybody suspected. After Dean settles into his apple pie life, he drifts away from his niece, who decided to take her future into her own hands. Uncle!Dean x Niece!Reader. Angst. Completed series. --- Holy crap. This is one of the best fics I've read, I read this series a long, long time ago and I’m still thinking about it.

My Turn by @sis-tafics

Summary: You and Dean are blowing off some steam. Dean x reader. Smut.

Afraid of the Flame by @thosekidswhohuntmonsters

Summary: Bucky learns from a surprising friend that you shouldn't live a life of things unsaid. Bucky x reader.

It’s My Favorite Movie by @notnaturalanahi

Summary: Classice movie challenge. Movie prompt: “Are you not entertained?” Gladiator - 2000. Sam Winchester x reader. Smut

The Pumpkin Carver by @softlybarnes

Summary: Bucky and Y/N prepare for Halloween, when Bucky realizes something. Bucky x reader. --- I love The Florist and The Beekeeper so much, I was so happy to see you wrote another part. I loved it.

Watching by @mrsjohnsmith

Summary: Dean likes to watch. Sam x reader x Voyeur!Dean. Smut

Stepping Sideways by @siren-kitten-his

Summary: She steps sideways between worlds just watching those that live there...until Jefferson catches her eye. Jefferson (OUAT) x Fae!OC Mae. Smut. --- This is the first ever Jefferson fic I’ve read and i loved it!!

Ride by @wayward-and-worn

Summary: Sam and Y/N are in an established relationship. The milestones that had to cross to get this far go without saying. She's never been on top. Sam Winchester x Plus!Reader. Smut

All that Glitters by @moonbeambucky

Summary: Natasha found a sneaky way to get you to reveal your secret relationship. Bucky x reader. Smut. --- I LOVED this, its so clever and hilarious.

The Unimaginable by @moonbeambucky

Summary: As Bucky’s wife and mother of his child, you always worried for him when he was on a mission. This last mission will change your life forever. Bucky x reader. Angst. --- When i read the summary, I thought I had an idea about what was going to happen but it was so much worse. There were so many tears.

My Love, by @emilyevanston

Summary: Steve writes you a letter every time he goes on a mission. They usually arrive after he gets back. Steve x reader.

The Fiancé by @mycapt-ohcapt

Summary: Life takes an unexpected twist when you and Steve Rogers have to pretend to be engaged to cover up your little white lie. Steve x reader. Fake dating!AU. Completed mini series.

I Can’t Swim by @revengingbarnes

Summary: The reader pretends to drown to grab the attention of the hot lifeguard who looks after the beach. Lies don’t last long though, and eventually it backfires. Lifeguard!Bucky x reader. --- I LOVED this, its so cute and sweet. I had this goofy ass smile on my face the whole time I read it.

Sound by @bucky-barfs

Summary: You and Steve have been pining after each other for a while. Both to afraid to make a more, that is until you're stuck in a limo in heavy traffic. Steve x reader. Smut.

Crowded Places by @papi-chulo-bucky

Summary: You have a hard time warming up to Bucky, who constantly rejects you. But one day after his Winter Soldier mode is triggered, it seems there’s more to his brooding and stand off demeanor than he let’s on. Bucky x Reader/Winter Soldier x reader. --- I loved this!!! I’ve never read one like this and it turned out so sweet and weirdly endearing.

Memories and Music by @bitsandbobsandstuff

Summary: When you follow the sound of beautiful music, you find Bucky Barnes in front of the piano, and wonder if your heart might break just a little. Bucky x reader.

Three Shades of a Man by @bitsandbobsandstuff

Summary: It was different every time, what Bucky needed from you to survive himself. It was in these moments you saw the shades behind the mask he work in front of the world. Bucky x reader. Smut. Completed mini series. --- The first chapter was so intense and such a difference compared to chapel three, which I absolutely loved. It was so sweet and relieving to see their relationship like that after reading the first two chapters. I loved it.

Trepidation by @cumonbucky

Summary: Everything your world was right until Bucky’s ex girlfriend came along. Bucky x reader. Completed mini series. --- This was so good, I just had to add it to the list so we can all share a mutual annoyance at how stupid Bucky was in this fic. Like is he really that clueless or is he just that stupid??? Homegirl should of had a smack down with Dot but either way I absolutely loved this fic!

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ao719 · 5 years

Text

In Another Life (Part 4)

This is a part of a TRR A/U called Cordonians Gone Wild created with @speedyoperarascalparty, @leelee10898, @cocomaxley and myself. Thanks for the laughs ladies!

Summary: The group imagines how life might be had one moment altered the course their current lives took.

A/N: So this chapter is basically ALL dialogue...I apologize in advance. I’ve never done so much dialogue in one chapter before, but let’s face it, there’s a lot that needs to be discussed between everyone.

Catch up - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Tag List: @annekebbphotography @carabeth @moneyfordiamonds @give-me-ernest-sinclaire @3pawandme @indiacater @ooo-barff-ooo @ownworldresident @tornbetween2loves @perfectprofessorherokid @stopforamoment @editboutique @wannabemc2 @zaffrenotes @enmchoices @lauradowning29 @lodberg @smalltalk88 @laniquelove-blog @gibbles82 @heatherfilliez @drakesensworld @nikkis1983 @sweetest-marbear @classylady1234 @daniv2278 @rainbowsinthestorm @jared2612 @liamxs-world @notoriouscs @blubutterflyy @captain-kingliamsqueen @whenyourheartskipsabeat @lynne1993 @coldcollectornight08 @be-still-my-aching-heart @kennaxval @the-soot-sprite @hopefulmoonobject @emichelle @cgd03 @kate-mckenzie @mfackenthal @crookedslimecreatorpasta @jemrmax2love @sashatrr @iplaydrake

The girls walked down the hall and into a bedroom inside the hotel suite to discuss what just happened and what they should do. Anitah could smell the cologne in the air as they stepped in and shut the door behind them, it was Liam’s room, she would recognize that scent anywhere.

Each one of them was feeling confused and nervous, unsure. In a matter of an hours time, Liam had asked Anitah to come back to Cordonia with him, telling her he would end his marriage to Madeline, had offered both Pam and Genevieve a job at the new clinic there, and Leo had suggested that if Anitah came, to bring Alicia with her.

“Alright ladies,” Pam began as they all sat down. “This is...quite the turn of events!” She let out a breath. “Cordonia is not new to Anitah and I,” she motioned her hand to Anitah. “But...at least for me...I only ever intended to go there for an internship, not forever. It’s a great job opportunity, but for me, and I assume all of us, this is about alot more than a job.” She eyed each of the ladies.

“Pam!” Genevieve looked at her wide eyed. “This is insane! We just met these guys last night! I’m not packing up and leaving for a foreign country!”

"I know, Gen! Don’t you think I know how ridiculously, crazy this entire thing sounds? But...I...” Pam trailed off hiding the smile threatening to form. “I can’t explain it. It just feels...right. I mean, you hate your job anyhow, right?”

“I know...but I’m next in line for a promotion! Pam...this would mean leaving my parents and everything I know. We don’t even know what kind of jobs are waiting there. It’s too risky.”

"I mean, Anitah...what are the odds that you and Liam would run into each other in a club? I think you should go,” Alicia looked at her.

Anitah slowly brought her gaze to her best friend. “He’s married, Alicia. He’s the King and he already has a Queen. Yes, he said he was going to end the marriage. I’ve heard it before from him...which is how I ended up back here a year ago,” she dropped her head back down.

“Something tells me that this time he means it. I know I don’t know him, but it’s clear he still loves you. And, Pam, you and Drake seem to be made for each other. Maybe I’m delirious but, fuck it. I say we go for it.”

"Anitah...I've seen Liam in Cordonia with his 'Queen'.” Pam rolled her eyes. “She’s a royal bitch, pun intended...and he is absolutely miserable.”

“See!” Alicia exclaimed throwing her arm out at Pam. “You are miserable without him. Don’t tell me that you aren’t.”

“Ok, great! Then Anitah goes and the two of us can go back to Chicago, Pam. Have fun Anitah.” Genevieve slapped her hands on her thighs.

“Not so fast,” Alicia held up her hand. “Something tells me Pam may want to see where things could go with Drake.” Alicia looked up at her new friend smirking.

Pam looked at each of them for a moment. “I don’t know...maybe? I mean, Liam offered me a job, but Drake...he hasn’t said a thing. I don’t know where he stands with all of this.”

"Are you blind, Pam?” Alicia gave her a pointed look. “He’s basically a love sick puppy who is drooling over you.”

“And what about you and Leo?” Anitah chided as she looked at Alicia.

“Well...I could use a vacation,” Alicia shrugged.

"Am I the only one thinking with my brain instead of my heart?” Genevieve creased her brows as she looked at them.

“Um...hello,” Anitah raised her hand to Genevieve.

"Gen, your head is full of shit and your heart was a black hole for men...until you met Rashad. You may be playing it down, but he changed something big in you. Admit it!” Pam stared at her.

“He’s sweet, and so hot, and so...so good in bed...but I don't know...”

“Ok. That settles it, I'll go tell the guys we're in,” Alicia stock up.

“Wait...I didnt say I was in!” Pam looked at her.

“Sit down!” Anitah grabbed Alicia and pulled her back.

“Ok,” Alicia interjected, “show of hands...who thinks their recent bed partner is the best they ever had?” Alicia shot her hand straight up as Genevieve just blushed, not saying a word.

“Duh...” Pam smirked as she raised her hand.

“I didn’t bed Liam...last night...so I can’t say...” Anitah spoke very matter of factly.

“But he was the last guy you diddled,” Alicia chuckled.

“How do you know?” Anitah looked at Alicia acting offended. “I could have...diddled! It’s been a year.....” Anitah looked away not making eye contact.

“Because if you diddled anyone, you would have told my ass,” she cocked her head as Anitah’s shoulders slumped.

“But I’m not moving to another country for amazing, absolutely mind blowing sex...alone,” Pam stated. “But...I mean the job alone...might be worth a trial run?”

“Trial run? I’m listening,” Genevieve looked over to her.

"It might be worth going for say...a set amount of time. One month...what if we give them one month in Cordonia. Try out the job, see where things go?”

"That's a good point. I mean it does sound like a great opportunity. If...and that's a big if, the clinic works out,” Genevieve replied.

“And IF they want to keep us there...they have to earn it,” Pam smiled confidently.

Anitah stood from the bed and walked a few steps before turning to face the other three, hands on hips. “Are you guys missing the part where LIAM IS MARRIED?! This is just another scandal waiting to happen,” Anitah buried her face in her hands.

"Anitah, don’t worry about that. We can take care of this wife Brooklyn style. I know a guy. Forgettabout it,” Alicia waved her off.

Anitah gave Alicia a sideways glance. “She’s the Queen Alicia, she’s protected by guards...we cannot Brooklyn the Queen of Cordonia.” As much as I may want to, Anitah thought to herself.

“Listen, I've known you for like...a minute...but what does your gut say? Not your brain, not your heart,” Genevieve looked up at Anitah.

“My gut says to throw up, Gen...that’s what my gut says.”

“Well don’t do that...because gross. I think your gut is telling you to go and at least try...maybe Pam is right, you guys try it for a month to see how it goes."

“And what about you?”

“I really don't know...I’d have to think about it.”

“We dont have time to think,” Alicia chimed in. “We need to make a decision. I agree with Pam...we give them one month to wow us and then we can work out an extension if we like where it’s going.”

“I can’t make a decision like this! There’s too much pressure and too many variables. Liam never said it was all or nothing! So if you guys want to go, by all means...go. I need a minute,” Genevieve let out a breath.

"I need a drink,” Alicia added.

“Me too, sister. Me too,” Genevieve agreed.

“I need a Valium,” Anitah flopped backwards onto Liam’s bed staring up at the ceiling.

Pam, Alicia and Genevieve all walked out of the room a short time later and down the hall, Anitah staying behind, thinking. All of them were thinking in that moment. Thinking how absolutely crazy this sounded, but also how, at the same time, they all kind of wanted to do it. Pam and Genevieve both had jobs and families that they would be leaving behind, to fly to a country with no guarantee for their futures at all. Alicia would be leaving behind her own family and as the heiress to the family business, that would be handed over to one of her siblings. Anitah would be leaving her degree behind, yet again, and this time so close to finishing. She didn’t have family or any roots there though like the others, just her sanity and her safety net.

Alicia walked ahead of the others and Genevieve turned to Pam whispering. “I have to think about it. I can’t make this kind of a decision on impulse.”

Rashad approached them. “Sorry...I couldn’t help but overhear what you just said...you are considering coming to Cordonia?”

Genevieve shook her head as Pam stepped away giving them a moment. “I don’t know...this is crazy. This is not how you get jobs here in the U.S.”

He nodded his head thoughtfully. “It would be a great opportunity. To make your mark on a new clinic. They’re going to need people with you’re kind of experience.”

She looked up at him. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s an amazing opportunity, but this isn’t just starting a new job. This is starting a new job, a new life, in a foreign country. A country I know nothing about...and I would only know Pam.”

He sat down on the arm of the sofa, placing his hands on her waist. “Hey, you know Anitah, Alicia, Drake...me…” he flashed her a brilliant smile which she returned.

“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s a big decision to make in a short amount of time. I feel overwhelmed.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. “I would love the chance to get to know you better. You and I have this...connection that I’ve never felt before. One night with you wasn’t enough.”

He leaned in placing a soft kiss on her lips. She felt the same jolt of electricity course through her body, like it did the night before. They parted and she opened her eyes looking into his for a moment before letting out a breath. “One month. I will go for one month to see how it works out.”

Pam walked back into the room and Drake stopped pacing as he looked over, just staring at her. She looked up meeting his hopeful eyes as he stood there with his hands shoved in his pockets. “So? What’s the...ah...the verdict?”

Pam offered him a soft smile. “Can we maybe...talk? Someplace private?” Drake offered a quick nod motioning towards his room. They sat side by side on the bed as Pam gnawed on her lip. "So...um...Liam, he offered me a job back in Cordonia.”

Drake nodded. “Yeah I was there,” he chuckled. ”Are you gonna take him up on it?”

Pam offered a tentative grin. “Well, that depends.”

Drake looked curiously at her. “Depends on…?”

Pam shrugged shyly. “On...on you, at least in part.”

“On me?”

Pam nodded. “I mean, yes. It’s a great job opportunity but...I wouldn’t be considering going if you weren’t a factor.” Drake's eyes widened in surprise. “So do you...want me to?”

Drake stared at Pam dumbfounded, unable to find words. He finally shook himself free from his stupor and began chuckling to himself. “If you only knew,” he mumbled.

“What was that?” Pam questioned.

Drake grinned meeting her eyes. He leaned in pressing his lips to hers, their tongues tangling in a passionate kiss. Drake pulled away breathless, leaning his forehead against Pam’s with a grin. “Come to Cordonia or don’t, Pam,” he shrugged. “But this...us...it’s not over.” Drake smirked, pulling away to meet Pam’s eyes. “I already told Liam this morning. Chicago sounds like a nice place to live.”

Pam smiled thoughtfully at him. “Ok...I’ll give it a go...one month. And we’ll see what happens.”

Alicia stood in the sitting area, Leo coming up beside her. “So have you come up with an answer?”

Alicia looked at him, biting her lip. She couldn’t just blurt out yes, considering the girls were still somewhat undecided. “We need to talk, alone.” Her eyes darted around the room before he smirked pulling her into his room, shutting the door behind him. “So, Anitah is not fully on board with this idea. Liam says he will end his ‘sham of a marriage’, but she says she’s heard it before.”

“I see,” Leo sat down on the bed.

“I don’t even know why we are having this conversation anyway. If Anitah doesn’t go, your offer was if she went, so no point.”

Leo reach out grabbing her hand. “I said that because I thought it might scare you off if I just came out and said what I really wanted.”

“And what's that?” She quirked her brow at him.

“I really want Anitah to come, for Liam’s sake, but...” he pulled her closer, “if she doesn’t come, I still want you to come with me.”

“You do? But, why? I mean...we just met, literally a day ago.”

“Because it may have just been a day, but that’s all I needed. I’m falling for you, I don’t do that. But something about you, I just want to see where this can go. I promise It will be worth it.”

“Ok. We decided on a month trial, so what the hell. I’ll go,” she grinned.

He pulled her onto the bed eliciting a squeal from her, pinning her arms above her head. “Come for a month, stay forever,” his lips crashed down against hers.

Liam walked down the hall after noticing Anitah didn’t come out with the other other girls. He walked into his room and saw her laying on his bed, legs dangling off the edge, arms above her head and her shirt up a little, exposing a small part of her stomach. “Anitah...are you alright? Have you made a decision?”

She turned her head and looked at him. “Oh, just peachy. And no, I haven’t made a decision...”

Liam came and laid on the bed next to her, propping himself up on his arm, looking down at her. “What can I do...what can I say to make you say yes?”

She looked away from him, looking up to the ceiling. “Can you turn back time and make this happen a year ago...ya know, before you went off and got yourself married?”

Liam sighed. “Anitah, if I could, then I would. I can’t tell you how much I regret my decision. I’ve thought about you every single day for the past year. When I have to pretend to be happy, I think about you. I’m always thinking about you. The thought of you is the only happiness in my life.”

She closed her eyes at his words. “Liam...I don’t know if I can go through it. For me to go back there...with no guarantee of anything working out, once again...”

“This thing between Madeline and myself is not a marriage, it never has been. I will be a divorced man whether you come back to Cordonia or not...I can’t force to you to go. But I am certainly not beneath begging, if it means getting the love of my life back.”

“Begging, huh?” Anitah quirked her brow, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Liam chuckled. “I can have you begging for something too...”

Anitah looked at him shaking her head with a small grin. She took a deep breath, not fully believing she was about to say what she was. “Ok, Liam. I’ll go and will give it one month. One month for you to...do whatever it is you need to do. After that month...if nothings changed...I’m coming back to New York, for good. And I won’t ever entertain this idea again. This is a one time offer.”

Liam’s smile grew wide. “That will be more than enough time, my love.” She looked over at him with a curious expression, as if she were silently challenging him to make good on that promise.

He stared at her for a moment before leaning down pressing his lips to hers in a soft, lingering kiss. They parted but only for a moment before he leaned back down capturing her lips again in a more impassioned kiss, his tongue swiping across her bottom lip gaining entrance and finding hers, rolling against one another’s, longing and desperation behind their every movement. His hand slid gently across the exposed part of her stomach, feeling her silky skin for the first time in a year as they became lost in the moment, his touch raising goosebumps across her skin. He slid his hand up underneath the fabric of her shirt, slowly working his way upward and she stopped him just before he made it to her chest.

“Liam...” she spoke breathlessly as she broke free from the heated moment. “This...this can’t happen. Not right now.” He gave her a confused look. “My chastity belts on until you have divorced papers in your hand, signed. I won’t be that girl who sleeps with a married man.” She gave him a pointed look.

Liam looked at her caught off guard. He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh before opening them and looking back at her. “I can respect that...” he slowly nodded. “In the mean time, this chastity belt of yours...is that, uh...only locked for certain activities...or all?” He quirked his brow in question and Anitah shook her head with a grin as she stood up from the bed shoving his chest as he let out a low chuckle falling back.

“I should get a goddamn medal for that,” Anitah grumbled under her breath shaking her head as she walked out of the room, huffing the whole way. “A whole fucking year with no diddles...”

That night, Liam had Drake and Rashad accompany Pam and Genevieve on the 2 1/2 hour flight to Chicago to pack some stuff up and get things taken care of at their jobs while Alicia and Anitah got their stuff situated at their apartment. The woman spent the next couple of days getting everything figured out.

A couple of nights after they decided to take this jump, two cabs pulled up to the tarmac that held the royal jet at JFK, Anitah and Alicia stepping out of one, Pam and Genevieve stepping out of the other. The cabs both pulled away as the four woman stood there next to one another all staring up at the massive plane before them. They looked at one another, nervous smiles on each of their faces before looking back at the jet, standing there staying silent for a few long moments.

“I have a feeling this is going to be an interesting month...Cordonia here we come.”

#cgw world #cgw #cordonians gone wild #cordoniansgonewild #drake x pam #liam x anitah #rashad x genevieve #leo x alicia #new york #cordonia

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reesewestonarchive · 5 years

Text

chapter five / rem belongs to @forlornraven / masterpost / mature content

I don’t have a tag list so if you’re interested lemme know

South of the California border, Nakoa finds it.

The weather’s good, better than the Midwest, and Rem’s attitude is better. Freer.

Nakoa likes him like this. He buys booze and cigarettes with money that he won in pool in Vegas, and Nakoa makes a deal with a hippie they meet outside a record store for weed, and strolls the streets of Ferris, California high as a kite.

He feels pretty fucking good when he finds it, a tiny shop tucked away in between a coffeeshop and a consignment store. Music plays so loud it drifts onto the street, and Nakoa steps inside after he puts his joint out.

The shop owner lifts a hand at him in greeting, but says nothing. There’s a sign overhead that reads, DISCOUNT CASSETTES - $2 and Nakoa makes his way there, ignoring the albums and the deep seated desire he has to own them again.

When he gets a job. When he settles down.

London Calling sits right on top, along with a few other albums. Nakoa peeks inside, makes sure they’re right, that they’re really the one he wants, and… they are. All of them in damn near pristine condition.

Nakoa blinks. Picks up all three albums, puts them carefully on the counter and slaps seven dollars on the counter as well.

The clerk blinks at him. “Cassettes?”

“The van only has a tape deck.” Nakoa prefers it. CDs scratch, they skip. A tape deck can be rewound, if the ribbon comes out. Spliced back together.

The sound quality sucks, but Nakoa’ll make do.

The clerk shoves the tapes into a brown paper bag, and Nakoa leaves.

Stuffs it into his pocket, and continues down the street, taking in the city.

LA’s bigger, but Ferris is huge. Nakoa feels anonymous, here, lost amongst the sea of suits and skirts. There’s freedom, here, in a way Nakoa isn’t used to, even from the days in car from Withervale.

He crosses the crosswalk, wonders what Rem’s doing now. If he found another idiot to hustle, if he’s gambling.

If he’s still lying in the room at the motel, like he was when Nakoa left him.

“Hey,” Nakoa says, when he opens the door to the motel room, digging for the joint as he does. “I have something for—”

The motel room is fucking trashed. The bed upended, the TV sideways on the floor, scratches in the walls. Broken tables.- light flickers from where it hangs on the wall, and.

There’s a lot of fucking blood. Nakoa’s mouth goes dry, and he takes a careful step forward into the room. Wonders if he should say anything. If he should call Rem’s name, or turn around and leave.

Th van still sits in the parking lot, though, so Nakoa steps forward, into the room.

“Rem?” he calls, quiet, then louder. “This some kind of fucking trick?”

Shallow breathing, and Nakoa wishes he had a weapon. But then, Rem’s arm comes over the side of the bed, still donned in the bracelets he always wears. Relief might wash through him were it not for the blood.

“What the fuck?”

Rem staggers to his feet. “It’s—fine. Shut up.”

“There’s—” Nakoa makes a gesture to the walls. “No!” He feels a bit like he’s flailing in the water, trying not to drown when he should know how to swim. It’s not the first time. It won’t be the last.

“It’s not mine,” Rem says, like that’s supposed to help. His voice is strained. He’s holding his side, limping, and—”Don’t give me that look, Warren.”

Nakoa clenches his jaw. “What happened.”

His brain is a fog of relaxation and weed and Rem is a fan blowing it all away.

Rem sits on the edge of the bed. Surveys the damage. “The van’s still out there, right?”

“That’s not a fucking answer!”

His voice sounds too loud in the space, and someone knocks on the walls, harsh and Nakoa has half a mind to ask them what the fuck happened.

The album weighs heavy in his pocket. He says, “Rem. What the fuck?”

A beat and then Rem snaps, “Like you’re some kind of fucking saint.” Before Nakoa can respond, he says, “I was cleaning up your mess.”

“What mess?!” What has Nakoa done, aside from shop, get high, fake ID himself into a liquor store; beside put the idea of leaving in Rem’s head to begin with—besides pay for the fucking motel rooms and food, and—

Nakoa grits his teeth.

“You’re an addict,” Rem says, pot calling the kettle, and, Nakoa sees red. “And you’re more trouble than you’re worth, you know that?” His tone falls flat on his tongue and, hell. Nakoa grinds his teeth, angry and lost and heartbroken. “Always looking for your next fix.”

“Fuck you,” Nakoa says, and wishes the blood on the walls were Rem’s, because maybe then he’d shut up. “You—” He wants to punch him, but—

Rem stares at the walls, at the floor, his voice sharp when he says, “Why’d I fucking come with you?”

His tone is vicious. Nakoa’s not sure he’s ever heard him so fucking irritated, so irate, so cruel. Rem says a lot of shit, his mouth gets him into trouble in more than one way, but Nakoa’s not used to being on the receiving end.

“What the fuck did I do? Besides give a shit about you, want you to be happy?” Nakoa grits his teeth. He can’t throw punches, really wants to knee Rem in the dick for this, for dragging Nakoa across the country and pulling this on him because—

Because he got fucking scared.

Rem’s still talking, continuing to throw shit around the room, cursing Nakoa’s tendencies towards whiskey and weed, at the one time he tried heroin, voice growing louder and louder until Nakoa snaps.

“You want me gone, I’m gone. Take the fucking van.” Nakoa pulls the albums from his jacket, holds them in the air, then throws them at Rem’ chest, grateful for the way he flinches, for the clack the cases make as they fall to the floor. “Good fucking luck.”

He turns, then, sticks his hands in his pocket, and disappears through the door to the room.

“Where are you going, Warren?” Rem calls, stalking after him.

“Doesn’t matter. Not here.”

Panic might settle in his chest, if it weren’t for the weed clouding his head. He’ll figure it out. Sell himself, if he has to.

But Rem grabs at Nakoa’s arm, desperation written across his face, and Nakoa almost gives. Almost. “I’m—Nakoa. Come on.”

Just fucking once, Nakoa wishes he’d say please. “What?”

Rem licks his lips, lets go of Nakoa’s wrist. “Don’t make me say it.”

Because it’s so terrible. Nakoa goes, anyway, won’t, doesn’t listen.

It starts raining. Nakoa walks around town, without Rem at his side, and in Ferris, it’s hard to not draw attention. Nakoa ducks into a bar, flashes a fake ID, and downs three shots of whiskey in one go. It’s smooth, warm, gentle.

The things Rem aren’t, and Nakoa knows he won’t find an answer at the bottom of a shot glass, but.

Worth a try, anyway.

He keeps to his own, glaring at anybody that tries for conversation. Nakoa’s chest aches with fury, but as the night wears on, and the clock ticks closer to last call, Nakoa regrets leaving.

Did Rem leave, Nakoa wondered. If all that’s left is Nakoa’s shit. Would he? Would Rem leave him here? Alone in a strange town. Nakoa’s been left in worse places, but the idea that Rem left, without him, is… fuck, he wishes he could call him. Talk to him without seeing his face.

He closes his eyes and shoves his palms against his eyes. The bartender clicks her tongue and says, “Suck it up, sweetie. Life just gets more exhausting the older you get.”

With a peek through his fingers, Nakoa says, “Great.” Life already seems pretty shit. Nakoa can’t take much more. “That’s uplifting.”

“Not my job to reassure,” she says, and Nakoa thinks he’d sleep with her, if she asked. “My job is to pour shots. You ready for round two?”

Round two ends up in the alleyway behind the bar, smell of vomit and alcohol pungent in the air. Maybe Nakoa’s not the only one drowning a past he’d rather not remember.

Rem is beside himself at the motel, pacing back and forth with his keys in his hand when Nakoa stumbles through the front door. “Thank fuck,” Rem says, his expression so relieved it looks painful.

Like nothing he’s ever felt before, Nakoa wants to touch. Rest his head against Rem’s chest and wrap his arms around his torso. Press his nose against Rem’s jaw, and…

“Are you okay?”

Nakoa nods. The world spins. He shakes his head. Closes his eyes against the onslaught of nausea and says, “Move,” shoving Rem out of the way and heading to the bathroom to dry heave into the toilet.

Sick sounds echo off the tile in the room, and Nakoa’s muscles ache, but he sits for an hour. Half an hour, until he stops feeling woozy. Until he can get up and…

He makes it to the other room, collapses on the bed. Just a second later and Rem sits beside him, drawing his fingers through Nakoa’s hair with feather light touches.

Nakoa hums. Pushes against Rem’s hand.

“Feeling any better?”

No. Nakoa says nothing, squirms down to rest his head on Rem’s lap, though, one leg on the floor to keep the spinning in his head down. Even the thought of talking sends his stomach into twists, so he draws his nails along the seam of Rem’s jeans.

With a sigh, Rem starts working at Nakoa’s shoulders. It’s as much of an apology Nakoa thinks he’ll ever get. “I’m glad you came back,” he says, his voice soft and quiet. Nakoa waits, for an explanation, for anything, but Rem says nothing. Not about that, anyway. Not about what Nakoa wants him to say. “We could stay here,” he suggests instead.

“No,” Nakoa says. He hates California already. “Mountains.”

Before he passes out, he hears Rem’s soft chuckle, thinks he must imagine the fondness seeping through.

When Nakoa wakes, it’s to the dim glow of the television, Rem’s soft breathing behind him. Rem’s arm is a comfortable weight over Nakoa’s waist.

He has, he notes with distaste, vomit in his hair, and the entire room smells of it—and lemon cleanser, distantly.

Nakoa pulls a hand up to scrub at his face, stare at the ceiling.

Thinks this place is garbage. In a way, he misses the midwest. He never got in trouble in the midwest… at least, not like this.

He shoves Rem’s arm off his waist and sits. Sits on the edge of the bed and feels a thousand years old, a headache that pounds at the back of his skull like a hammer.

“Mm?” Rem says, reaching out. His fingers brush the back of Nakoa’s shirt. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Nakoa says. “Go back to sleep.”

He goes for a shower, then, cold not by choice but by poor water heaters, lets the chill wash goosebumps over his skin. Nakoa’s been high once, one time since they left Withervale, and… what would the hippie have to do with him, now? Nakoa paid. He paid extra, even, because he liked the guy.

…is that what he did wrong?

The door to the bathroom opens. Through the frosted glass door, Nakoa makes out Rem’s form as he comes in. Still, Nakoa says nothing, turns away, shoves his face under the water.

Not sure if it’s shame or anger keeping him from speaking.

The door slides open after a minute and Nakoa hears, feels Rem’s presence as he climbs in behind him. “Shit that’s cold—” he says, and presses himself against Nakoa’s back.

“What are you doing?” Nakoa asks, his voice barely audible over the roar of the water. Rem presses his lips to Nakoa’s shoulders in a kiss. He’s tired. He aches, everywhere, but especially his stomach, his shoulders, with the effort of throwing up. The last thing he wants to do right now is balance for shower sex, or get on his knees.

But Rem’s hand doesn’t travel downward, doesn’t go anywhere except around Nakoa’s waist to tug him tight against him. He’s not hard, either. Not yet. Nakoa’ll give it five minutes and call it.

“You freaked me out,” Rem says, his voice soft. “Thought… what if he doesn’t come back?”

Nakoa goes still, his eyes set on the small bar of soap sitting on the ledge, but that’s… it. Doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t know that he can. His toes are starting to feel like ice. He twists the hot water all the way to the left, but even as the water finally starts to warm up, Rem is still like a fire against his back.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you?”

“This supposed to be an apology?” Nakoa asks. He reaches for the soap, not sure if he cares about pissing Rem off, now. Let him be pissed. What’s he going to do, leave Nakoa here? “It’s pretty fucking lacking.”

“Fuck you,” Rem says. His voice isn’t as harsh as Nakoa thinks he means for it to be, though. Instead, it’s… softer, quiet. Gentle, and Nakoa suppresses a shudder when Rem brushes his lips along the back of his neck. He pushes Nakoa’s wet hair out of the way and adds, “It’s good you came back.”

All the right sentiment and the wrong words. Nakoa relents, finally, says, “Don’t have anywhere else to go.” And he doesn’t. He’s not sure what might await him at home, but he’s not keen on finding out. The other options are hardly appealing—wandering the countryside as a homeless weirdo… Nakoa’ll pass.

Even at his worst, Rem’s still the best thing that’s ever happened to Nakoa. A lifetime of shit led them here, in this moment.

“What do you want from me?”

The water pounds against Nakoa’s skin, almost aching now in its heat. He closes his eyes, rubs soap against his body, and thinks. Commitment’s too much to ask. Nakoa’s not sure he wants it anyway. What would he do with commitment?

“I don’t know,” Nakoa says.

Rem doesn’t speak, after that.

The bed feels better after cleaning the grime off, so just as daylight begins to peek out of the curtains, Nakoa climbs back under the covers. The sheets smell like Rem and spilled whiskey, and he inhales once, twice, heavy and deep, before he settles in.

His head isn’t pounding as bad, anyway. Finally.

Rem’s pulling on his boots at the small table, though. He pauses before he ties the last one, his gaze heavy enough on Nakoa that Nakoa opens an eye, then two. He croaks, “What?” and doesn’t expect an answer.

“I’ll be back later.”

And out the door he goes.

The trouble is, Nakoa’s used to Rem’s disappearances. Before the door’s even locked behind Rem, Nakoa’s eyes are closed again. Rem does better no questions asked, so Nakoa doesn’t ask. Figures if it’s important, Rem will tell him.

He dreams of white picket fences, of guys with clubs and bats, of broken windows and Rem’s bloody knuckles. Of motel rooms across the country, of Disneyland. Of being happy, and Nakoa thinks, that’s what he should have told Rem, when he asked in the shower what Nakoa wanted from him.

Happiness.

#road to nowhere au #my writing

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