#fuck i should just get my own place and throw a housewarming party

[nat-20s]

Laying out a conspiracy board with pictures and string but it's just me trying to figure out which of my friends would like being friends with each other

[lunarw0rks]

please tell me i’m not the only one who thinks soap would be horny at the WRONG times?

like let’s say you’re hosting your very first end of the year bbq and you invite your close friends, the task force, + los vaqueros. you’re excited because you just had moved into your first house as well.

all is good until good until soap starts getting needy, purposely brushing up against your backside whenever he passes by, mumbling the most sarcastic ‘oops my bad’. he even says something along the lines of ‘sending everyone back home so we could have some alone time’ and plays it off as a joke but you know he’s being serious 💀 like that man does NOT CARE, he’ll take you in the bathroom if he has to.

a/n: naur, you're onto something anon. I always picture Soap as a horny bastard; not much restraint in his not-so-little body. got a little carried away on this, lol. warning(s): nsfw, horny stuff, fem!reader

imagine you bought a house together and the nice idea of throwing a little housewarming party, for him, for you — inviting his co-workers and some friends of your own. he insisted a thousand times that you didn't have to invite them; but only because of all the embarrassing stories they were going to tell you about your boyfriend.

but, when all was said and done, it was a great gathering. you did it all yourself — the meals, the decor, the staging of your newly purchased outdoor furniture — everything. it was alluring to Soap, how frazzled and insistent on "perfection" you were. though, you heard about a thousand times, that they would eat anything you put in front of them.

when you two sat around the fire, gaz asked how you two planned on celebrating the new house once the festivities died down. an innocent question; but it sparked in your boyfriend's mind. "aye, we'll find a way to celebrate, that's for sure. jus' gotta make sure the timing's right," he played it off with a chuckle, but there was no mistaking how flustered it made you.

it was going perfectly, or as perfect as a party with these people could be. a lengthy dinner in the backyard, endless conversations, and a little too much indulgence in the booze for some of them. "great party, great house. should have you decorate the base sometime, eh? if it's half as nice, it'll help with morale." price commented as he talked to you and him.

Soap's arm remained around your shoulder, your waist, or anywhere throughout the night. you didn't think anything of it, frankly, you were too laser-focused — until his neediness grew. brushing against your backside, a caress on your thigh lingering, a small wink when the guests weren't focused on you.

some went off to the side to smoke, and others remained on the patio to continue their conversations. by now, it was time to get the mess cleaned up. plates, cups, wrappers, empty bottles, and the other trash that had accumulated.

"i'll help you with that, love. you've done enough tonight, haven't ye?" he approached after dismissing himself, grabbing the second stack of silverware and following you inside. Soap finally had his opportunity to seize what he desired, when he knew the party was much less alive, much less prying eyes on you two.

you stepped inside from the patio, him closing the sliding door behind you. dumping the plates into the sink, you turned on the faucet with the intention of beginning a long night of clean-up duty. his hand reached around you, turning off the faucet, "not what i meant by helpin' you, lass. c'mon," he motioned his head in the direction of the hall.

you took one more look out the window, seeing the preoccupied guests, most paying little mind to your guys' close proximity in your new kitchen. why the hell not? might as well cross the guest bathroom off your list of "places we've had sex in our new home" — right?

before the door even closes, he's hiked up the hem of your evening dress, shoving his hand down the waistband of your panties. Soap ends up fucking you senseless on the bathroom counter, gagging you with his fingers in case any of his co-workers came inside the house to grab another chilled drink. you were only a few feet from the kitchen, it was the definition of risky.

mid-thrust, there was a soft knock. price, goddamn price. "everything alright in there, sweetheart?"

even with his superior on the other side of a door, about a foot away, did Soap stop? no, of course not. he slowed down but never stopped. he removed his fingers from your mouth, biting his lip to mock you that look in your eyes, whilst they shot open in a frenzy. you cleared your throat to conceal a moan, using every ounce of strength to not feel Soap bottoming out over and over again. "uh, just a— just a little wine on my dress, John. no worries!"

as soon as price's steps retreated down the hall, Soap's ragged, growly breaths resumed. in a split second, his ruts went from mockingly slow, back to a relentless pounding.

before there was any chance of another interruption, he finished with a sneer on his face. "wine on the dress, eh? smart girl. i like that." he heaved against your lips, gently wiping any mess that smudged on your lips. you were livid, despite coming down from your own high. a palm smacked his chest repeatedly until he shut your heated whispers up with a hundred pecks across your jaw and mouth.

Soap walks outside first, blaming the lost time on him fishing through the moving boxes for a Tupperware you needed. whether it was believable or not, that was up for debate. the sweat lingering on his brow, the afterglow of sex on his face? unmistakable.

now, you've either have to splash water on your dress to imitate where you would've scrubbed a wine stain off. or... just, walk on out of there like you hadn't just been fucked stupid — with trembling legs, naturally.

[levi-ish]

a/n: some best friend jean to sweeten our nights

stumbling out of the taxi, you and jean leaned onto each other as the cold night engulfed your warm bodies, trying to stay composed enough to enter the building. his hand held tight to your waist and your arm ached from reaching his shoulders, being the man too tall for anyone's sake.

the whole trip upstairs was full of crossing gazes and trying to keep quiet, knowing other residents were fast asleep and being 4am in a sunday night wasn't ideal to get drunk and disturb everyone's peace.

it was a bad idea from the start, but when sasha texted you saying that you should come over (emphasizing that there would be beer), you couldn't just say no. what kind of friend would you be?

but jean was there, and you two always got drunk together, every. damn. time.

started when you were sixteen and you thought it would be a great idea to sneak into his mother's wine cabinet, trying a sip of everything and pretending to know shit about wine tasting as you both put on the worst french accent and swirled the red liquid around the glass. that didn't end well when his mother found you two sleeping on top of each other on the marbled floor.

then there was the incident on eren's birthday, when him and jean thought it would be a great idea to bet who could chug the most beer and it ended with them both throwing up in the pool as you cheered in the background.

and there was prom, then reiner's frat party, then ymir and historia's housewarming, list goes on and on.

in the end of the day, he was your best friend, and you trusted him with your whole life.

"I think your doorman hates me" jean said as he took off his shoes, placing them lazily next to the couch, almost falling on his feet.

"mr. jameson? why?" you turned around, eyes half lidded as you stared at the lanky man.

"he never replies to my 'good mornings'" he kept on rambling. "like, I always wave at him and he just ignores me. I don't get it."

you laughed as you both went into your room. you scanned your dresser for a spare set of clothing for him to sleep on, finding some old shirts in the drawer you separated for him.

“maybe he thinks you’re a degenerate” you smirked at him, throwing an old faded sweater from Paradis University at him. “I mean, he sees you coming and going at the weirdest hours.”

“and whose’s fault is that?” he grabbed it mid air and took off his own shirt to get changed, not minding your presence.

it was usual for you guys to do that kind of thing. you’d been sleeping over at his every since you can remember. his mother was your second mom and yours was his. you were no stranger to his body, but things started to change when you turned seventeen.

jean had a spurt growth in high school. one day he was this tall stick-like dude and then, one day, after swimming practice, you met him at the pool only to find out that he’d grown quite an impressive build.

then he grew even bigger, and then he started styling his hair differently, he switched his cologne, his voice wasn’t as squeaky, and he became a whole ass man. and you couldn’t help how your heart raced a little every time he took off his shirt around you. and your drunken mind wasn’t helping either — imagining how those big hands would feel as his long fingers ran alongside your thighs and his muscular arms would wrap around…

jesus fuck, get a grip!

you turned around once more, now trying to find something for you to wear and focusing on anything else but those inconvenient thoughts. you were drunk. that’s it.

grabbing another sweater and some pajama shorts, you turned quickly and your balance failed you, as gravity worked its magic and you were now falling, only to be met with those same arms that were the roots to your recent desires, now holding you in place.

“woah there, what’s the rush?”

looking up, you found his face close to yours. you could see the faded freckles that spread across his nose and the stubble you knew he tried so hard to grow, heat pooling on your cheeks as you felt your whole body burn. but you weren’t alone in this, since you noticed a slight blush creeping onto his face, and you both were too stunned to talk.

“you have beer breath” you snapped out of your trance as he quickly covered his mouth, furrowing his brows at you.

“so do you! but you don’t see me complaining!” you pushed him away jokingly as he fell on the bed, and you took that moment to look anywhere else.

he sat straight and ran a hand across his forehead, brushing his bangs away from his eyes and you couldn't help but stare. everything he did looked like your own special private show, and he was the main event. it wasn't fair how pretty jean was. everything, from his mesmerizing hazel eyes to the dimples that painted his neck, to the v-line that followed his abdomen — fuck, not again.

you quickly excused yourself to go brush your teeth and he followed right after, taking his own toothbrush that you bought for him a while back, and looking in the mirror, the perfect frame of you sticking so bright, right in front of your eyes and intruding your mind, setting campsite in your brain.

jean seemed to notice how fidgety you got, and the silence surrounded you so thickly as if the whole tension could be cut with a knife, so he grabbed his phone and played some corny one direction song just to fill in the space.

you smiled warmly and finished brushing, shaking your head and singing along to 'they don't know about us' as he punched the air with his fists to the beats.

you were such a fool. that was jean, your best friend. you were so fucking silly to believe that there was something else going on. those dirty thoughts felt so wrong when they were directed at such an innocent face like his. he didn't deserve how your mind thirsted for him.

after finishing the song, you both washed your faces and grabbed water because jean had this strict rule of staying hydrated after drinking — to lessen the hangover the next day, or something like that.

"do you think eren got mad that I ruined his shirt?" you asked as you pulled the covers just enough so you could dive under.

'it's fine' eren said multiple times as you kept on apologizing, almost annoyed at how much you insisted on buying him a new t-shirt, even when he guaranteed you he couldn't care less.

it wasn't really your fault. sasha had bumped onto you and it made you spill cheap wine on him. you both laughed at first and then your hands gripped his stained shirt as you tried to help, only making it worse.

jean frowned at your mention as he tucked himself in, fluffing the pillow so he could lay his head on. "he said he didn't, right?"

"yea, but like, I ruined it either way."

"why do you care so much about what he thinks?" he said in a playful tone, but there was something that stuck to the back of his throat as he spoke.

you arched a brow. "why the attitude?"

"I don't have an attitude" he hit you with his pillow and you kicked his leg. "jaeger probably deserved it, anyways."

you laughed at him as you placed a hand next to your face, laying on your pillow as he grabbed his own, mimicking your movements. a small sigh left your mouth as you gave him a tight-lipped smile, staring for maybe a little too long.

"are you sleepy?" he asked.

"a little..."

a strand of your hair fell right above your eyes, and you frowned right away, looking at the disturbing piece scrunching your nose. but before you could take it away, you felt jean's long fingers moving it away from your face. he seemed to be deep in his mind as he did so, eyes focusing lower than yours, and — was he...?

a gasp fell from your lips and he quickly retracted his hand, grabbing his own wrist with the other one, eyes widened in shock. how could he let his heart control his mind?

feeling a little breathless, you tried to pretend that that just didn't happen. at all.

"goodnight then" you nodded and turned around, now facing your wall and grabbing the covers closer to your face so you could hide in embarrassment.

there was nothing actually wrong with that touch. jean had done far further than that in the past, from the lingering cheek kisses to falling asleep on your lap as your fingers dug deep into his scalp. a little ghostly touch to your face wasn't that big of a deal, but in that moment, it felt like it was.

it felt as if you were the most special girl in the world.

and you loved that.

you heard jean's heavy breathing behind you, the air hitting your neck just slightly to make all your hairs stand on your body. from time to time he shifted in place and you felt the duvet moving around you. every little thing he did made you feel nervous, and there was something growing in your lower abdomen as your mind ran all over the place with the deepest, uncontrollable thoughts that you tried so hard to keep hidden in your subconscious, failing miserably.

"jean, we should go to sleep" you whispered, feet rubbing together under the covers as you felt his breathing grow heavier by the minute.

licking your dry lips, you closed your eyes, trying to focus on anything else as both your bodies tried to stay as far away as possible on your cramped bed, while knowing that there was nowhere to run to.

"should we, really?" he whispered back, voice hot on the back of your ear as you felt he scoot closer, until your shoulder met his chest, feeling the scorching body on your own skin.

you tried to say something back, but your voice died in your throat as his hand hesitatingly found place on your side, fingers ghosting the same way they did before but now on uncovered flesh that burned through his nails. you felt your chest growing heavier and heavier as your breathing became erratic, and so did his.

it's just the alcohol acting.

you scooted even closer, your back now glued to his curled form and hardness pinched your thighs, making a small whine escape your mouth. his hand trailed lower until you felt his hot palms applying a small pressure just above your sleeping shorts, his pinky sneaking inside the elastic band.

his breaths grew into small groans as his hips moved just slightly to relieve some of the straining, and your body betrayed you by letting a moan sneak away.

you slapped your mouth, trying to contain yourself, but he was quicker to wrap those long fingers around your wrist, leaving the place where you needed him the most just so he could keep listening to you.

"I want to make you feel good" he said, almost in a plea and you couldn't help but nod, not even bothering to remain in denial. "please, let me make you feel good."

it almost felt as if you had a fever, and cold shivers ran down your spine each time his breath fanned on your neck.

jean lowered his hand once more, not bothering to tease as you felt his fingertips barely brushing against your folds, pulling your shorts and panties to the side just so he could rub those oh-so-long fingers. it almost tickled.

you moaned low and deep, hugging your pillow close to your face as he grunted, playing around with your slick.

“jean, please” your voice sounded muffled but your whines were clear as a day.

“can I put it in?” he leaned closer to your ear, lips tickling your love as he placed a fuming hot kiss where your jaw met your neck, making you jump in place. only then you felt his cock pulsating right above your entrance. “just the tip—please”

there it was again, your voice dying in your throat, and in response, you wrapped your fingers between his where his other hand met your waist, pulling him closer, if it was ever possible.

in a slight movement, his fat tip nudged itself in between your folds, taking rest inside your velvety walls and making it into its own home. both you and jean left slow and soft moans as some of the tension was now relieved. your hand squeezed his, and so did your cunt, letting him know that you had some kind of struggle to take him.

“ah!” he groaned and let his head fall down to your nape, letting a long exhale fall from his lips. “you feel even better than I imagined”

huh…?

“y-you imagined me?” you turned your face, looking at him over your shoulder and he gasped.

“shit, you clenched hard” quickly, you relaxed yourself.

“sorry…”

he sighed, lifting both of your wrapped hands and placed them above his lips, kissing each of your knuckles so soft you almost didn’t feel it.

“yes, you are in my mind every day. I couldn’t help but daydream about seeing you first thing in the morning” a kiss, “last thing in the night” another kiss, “and under me.”

you looked the other way, trying to avoid his burning gaze, but to no effect. you could still feel it piercing your shoulder.

“just let me make you feel good, now, would you?”

[asset35-maya]

.When the party’s over.

>REINITIALISING…

>ALL SYSTEMS ONLINE

>WIRELESS CHARGING: 69%

>RK900 SYSTEM HEALTH: STABLE

>24H FILE RECOVERY: 45%

Nines slowly regained consciousness. He was lying on his side and everything around him was quiet.

>ENVIRONMENTAL SCAN IN PROGRESS…

>THREAT ANALYSIS IN PROGRESS…

Layers of fabric covered his body and something soft and warm was pressed against his face. Eyes still shut, he nudged it gently with his nose and it emitted a low vibration.

>2% THREAT DETECTED: FELINE SUBJECT

The cat sprang upwards and hopped off the surface that Nines was lying on. It was ostensibly a bed, but Nines didn’t own any furniture apart from a couch and work table. The logical conclusion was that he was not in his own apartment.

>RUN LOCALISATION PROGRAM: Y/N?

>Y

>ERROR: PROGRAM FAILED TO EXECUTE

>ERROR: MEMORY FILE CORRUPTION

Nines had no absolutely recollection of his whereabouts or how he had arrived. He had not been compromised as his system health was stable, so there was probably another reason for being completely disoriented. It was voluntary.

He had gotten the android equivalent of blackout drunk.

It was not the first time and he feared it would not be the last. Such were the hard-partying ways of his friends and colleagues. They were all terrible influences. He loved them dearly, but they were terrible.

At 6PM every Friday, Chen and Miller would start things off rather innocently. “Hey there’s a new brewery downtown.” Or “My bartender cousin just hooked us up with a thirty percent discount!”

From there it wouldn’t take long for the DPD’s resident frat boys Connor and Gavin to gather a steady crowd of officers and check out the venue. If the vibes were good (which they almost always were), Sixty would get wind of things. Then the rest of the frat house would descend and total chaos would reign until the break of dawn.

SWAT Unit 32 was famous for its particularly destructive brand of revelry. Skinny dipping in private swimming pools, scaling skyscraper rooftops and causing media scandals were all par for the course. The day after Captain Allen’s birthday, the DPD crew spent the entirety of their bonuses to repair the collapsed ceiling of the Eden Club.

Nines couldn’t remember how he exactly he was coopted into the madness. Probably peer pressure. Connor insisted that he try thirium alcohol. Sixty said that he would regret being a loser and not joining them. Gavin had just held out a hand and double-winked. That did the trick.

One night blended into another and soon Nines had worked up quite a reputation of his own. He was the Casanova of the homicide department. The handsome devil… the hunter… the sex god. People would actually come by his desk and congratulate him on Monday morning.

Nines hated it but he couldn’t stop himself from doing the same thing over and over. Perhaps it was the appreciative clap on the shoulder from Gavin the morning after Sixty posted photos of a high-end Traci model giving Nines his very first lap dance.

Life at the DPD was the epitome of work hard, play hard. It seemed like one big party but deep down Nines knew they were all just slaves to their compulsions. He wondered whether it was because they needed to celebrate every demon they vanquished or whether they needed to wipe the troubling memories of doing so.

In Nines case, there were definitely things he needed to kill within himself. Some were nightmare inducing crime scenes, but some were memories so heart-wrenchingly sweet that he thought he might self-destruct if he were to dwell on them too long. There were things he couldn’t have and things he needed to erase from his brain.

Something touched his face gently.

>PERIPHERAL OBJECT DETECTED: HUMAN HAND

>THREAT ANALYSIS: NON-COMBATIVE

The hair on his forehead was brushed aside and fingers ran over his features. A thumb swept over his bottom lip and caressed his cheek.

Nines couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes and come face to face with his most recent conquest. He lay still, frozen with regret as the hand continued to stroke his face.

The hand travelled down his neck and fell upon his chest. Nines caught it abruptly. It wasn’t even the month-end and his savings were badly depleted. He couldn’t afford round two. He retracted the synth skin down to his wrist and prepared the electronic payment credentials.

Fingers merely intertwined with his.

“Just take your money and go. I’ll tip extra if you delete everything from your hard drive.”

“What the phck are you talking about?”

Nines eyes flew open. Steel blue met storm green.

>SYSTEM ALERT: THIRIUM PUMP OVERLOAD

“Fuck!”

“Wow that’s flattering.”

Nines pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes in a vain attempt to remember what had led to this absolute, unmitigated disaster.

“What the hell happened last night?”

Gavin looked affronted.

“You ruined our housewarming for one.”

>MEMORY ARCHIVE SEARCH: housewarming, Gavin

>RESULT: TEXT MESSAGE RECEIVED FROM “G.REED” IN GROUPCHAT “CLUBBERCOPS”, 15:33 18 JULY 2040: Assholes. Party at our new place. Next Friday. From seven till LATE. Bring booze, bring bitches. Nah. Actually, don’t. Our landlord’s a bastard and we already got three noise complaints.

>RESULT: TEXT MESSAGE RECEIVED FROM “CONMAN” IN GROUPCHAT “CLUBBERCOPS”, 15:34 18 JULY 2040: Yeah we should keep this one PG. Bring food if you wanna eat. This mf can’t cook and I don’t care to. See y’all!!

Oh right. Fuck. Gavin’s housewarming. Gavin and Connor’s housewarming. His two closest friends who were somehow even closer to one another. Nines hadn’t realised until it was far too late and there was nothing for him to do but smother the bitterness with his favourite coping mechanisms: android alcohol and paid sex.

The circumstances definitely explained the state he was in, but things still didn’t add up.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Did we… did we…”

“No. Nothing happened between us. You were completely shitfaced. I just put you to bed to stop you from embarrassing yourself.”

Nines looked up at the ceiling, struggling to put the pieces together. His system offered him no useful prompts. The fermented thirium had done its job of code corruption extremely well. He looked back down and met the green eyes focused on him with deep concern.

“What did I do?”

“Sixty has videos, but I don’t think you want to see them. God, Nines… why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I’m really sorry, Gavin. I didn’t mean to ruin your night… and Connor’s.”

“He’s fine. He and Sixty moved the crew to Hank’s place. Which is what we should have done in the first place… there’s really no point throwing a party in this shoebox and telling people like Tina Chen to be quiet. Honestly if it wasn’t you it would have been her bringing the house down. Good thing they had all of Michigan Drive to tear up. Hank’s neighbours can sleep though a bombing.”

“What did I do?”

Gavin put his hand back on Nines’ face, his expression unintelligible. The human touched him often enough, but never like this. Never so intimately. Nines forced down the twisting sensation in his torso. He couldn’t get his hopes up. This was pity.

Nines braced himself to hear the worst. He prepared for the shredding of all his dignity and the collapse of his falsely extroverted and confident identity.

What came though was a soft press of lips to his forehead.

“It wasn’t pretty and I wish it hadn’t happened like that, but I think it was a long time coming… I’ve never seen you so emotional before. I’m sorry I didn’t notice anything all this while.”

“Gavin, please.”

“I’m going to focus on the positives, because really… there were a LOT of negatives. Oh boy. You… uh…”

“Gavin.”

The detective dipped his head and looked away.

“Phck, I shouldn’t be so embarrassed…

You told me you loved me.”

Nines closed his eyes. That was it. He should quit his job and move to another state. Hell, he should go to Cyberlife and request a factory reset on compassionate grounds.

“I’m so sorry. I… I should leave.”

He made to sit up, but was pushed back into the mattress. Gavin curled into his side.

“Nah. You’re good.”

“What?”

“You threw up on my plants and smashed Connor’s RA9 sculpture, buuuut you’re good.”

“I don’t understand.”

Gavin wrapped his arms around Nines and edged closer until the android was forced to turn on his side and reciprocate.

“What do you think, genius? If a guy like me doesn’t throw a guy like you out of the house after all that… what does it mean?”

“That you have a high tolerance for toxic friendships?”

“It means I want you to stick around, dipshit.”

>SYSTEM ALERT: THIRIUM PUMP RATE FLUCTUATIONS. OVERLOAD IMMINENT.

“You mean you like me?”

“Of course I do! I always have, but it never seemed right to bring it up. We’re actually really good friends. I didn’t think it would be possible when we first met but we have so much in common.”

“Bad habits for sure.”

“Come on, Nines. We’ve had a really great time together. Some of my best memories at the DPD are with you. Don’t ever quote me on it but you’re a phcking amazing partner. Can’t believe you thought I had something going with Connor when it’s always been you.

So yeah, I do like you. And I’m willing to try… I dunno… being with you. Like for real.

Stop drinking like that, though. I know I’m a hypocrite but you really scared me last night. I lost my Dad and I nearly lost Hank to the bottle. You might be this super advanced android, but that liquid courage shit is a death trap, man.”

>SYSTEM ERROR: THIRIUM PUMP AT MAX FLOW RATE. PUMP OVERLOAD. REDUCE PRESSURE IMMEDIATELY!

Nines nodded quickly and blinked away the tears that welled up in his eyes. Gavin grasped the android’s chin and tipped his face down gently. Their eyes fluttered shut simultaneously and their lips met.

>SYSTEM RECOVERY MESSAGE: THIRIUM PUMP FUNCTIONALITY RESTORED

They broke apart after several golden moments and Gavin hugged Nines tightly under the sheets.

“What am I supposed to say to the others? I don’t think I can look any of them in the eye ever again.”

“Are you serious? You got nothing on the insanity that bunch is capable of. Sixty thinks he’s hot shit with his blackmail material, but I got receipts that’ll glue his mouth shut for decades. Anyway, that’s what friends are meant to be like. You have dirt on each other but you’re not meant to use it.

The same applies to us too, by the way. Don’t feel like you gotta be… apologetic about what happened last night. Yeah, you better replace my fancy new plants but I’ll never judge you for what happened. I want you to know that I’ll always be in your corner, Nines.”

Nines hummed thoughtfully and ran a hand though Gavin’s hair, marvelling at the fact that he could now do so whenever he wanted. He didn’t say anything in response, and just settled for cuddling closer to the human.

>>RK900 SYSTEM HEALTH: EXCELLENT

[dannypuro]

You said your askbox was open so!! From Something Telling I am very invested in the mutual pining of Feuilly and Baz and just that individually they were like. Whispering their feels to their friends. I am parched for any details of. Them. If you are amenable. BYE <3

YOU!!! YOU UNDERSTAND!!!! YOU AND YOUR WONDERFUL ASKS AND GIANT COMMENTS UNDERSTAND THE IMPORTANT PARTS OF SOMETHING TELLING ma’am i owe you my life. i adore you. and yes, without further ado... A Very Long Post about the boys.

feuilly moves into bahorel’s apartment building when he first moves to france, like, five or six years before the start of Something Telling. and he doesn’t speak a lot of french at ALL, at first, because he wasn’t expecting to move, but he got an opportunity with a gallery kind of last minute and he only had time to panic and duolingo it up a little bit. but he moves into baz’s apartment building, all the way up in the tiny attic apartment, and he doesn’t hire any movers because he’s broke, and that would be fine, except the elevator breaks sometime between when he goes out to find some furniture and when he gets said furniture delivered to outside the building. and now he has to figure out how to get this stupid second-hand couch up five flights of stairs and he doesn’t even know anyone in the country he can call for help. 

cue bahorel, coming back from the gym and all sweaty and gross. (nasty.) and he’s never seen feuilly before, but he is CERTAINLY seeing him now. 👁👁. and they have an awkward little conversation--all “hey, dude, do you, like, need a hand?” and poor feuilly desperately trying to remember his duolingo to figure out what the fuck this hot guy is saying to him. bahorel is instantly enamored--feuilly is fucking pretty, okay, and he’s funny and his accent is cute and baz just fucking knows feuilly’s smarter than him and he’s so fucking into it. just. he’s so into him.

and the thing is, baz is pretty sure feuilly’s maybe into him, too--he helps him drag the couch up the stairs, and they make conversation, and he thinks that he’s flirting, a little, and he’s definitely ogling baz up a bit. and, like, yeah, sure--he knows he’s hot, and feuilly’s smoking hot, in an overworked, tired, starving artist way, so... yeah. he’s totally gonna sleep with his brand-new hot neighbor.

only, then they start talking about why feuilly’s moving into the building--he tells baz that he’s new to paris, new to france, and he doesn’t know anybody, doesn’t even really speak french, and he moved for work but he doesn’t really know what he’ll do outside of that, and he’s just so! fucking! charming! and smart! and baz is like. right. well. 🥺, dude. 

they get up to feuilly’s apartment (and HOOOO, feuilly’s pretty strong, actually 👁👁 wow 👁👁 what a coincidence bahorel is shredded as well👁👁 maybe we can hook up and be shredded together👁👁) and set the couch down. and bahorel looks around his empty little attic apartment and takes in his nearly-empty kitchen and his one beautiful houseplant in the middle of the room, because that’s where the most light is, and he can’t just LEAVE. not when feuilly doesn’t have any friends. feuilly’s awesome, baz already knows it! he should meet baz’s awesome friends!

only, feuilly’s kind of- feuilly’s kind of leaning in, a bit, and bahorel has hooked up with enough dudes to know when someone’s putting on the moves. and he’s SO into it, and he almost just kisses him, almost hooks up with him on the couch that they just hauled up five flights of stairs together, only-

only, if feuilly’s a one-night stand, he won’t want to meet baz’s awesome friends, and he seems so lonely. so bahorel takes one for the team. and instead of leaning in to make out with the hottest dude he’s ever met, he’s just like HEY MY FRIENDS ARE HAVING A GET-TOGETHER TONIGHT WANNA COME YOU CAN MEET THEM THEY’RE SUPER NICE AND COOL. (oh, god, he really hopes feuilly wants to.)

feuilly’s a little taken aback, for obvious reasons, but- but he does want to meet bahorel’s friends, and mostly, he wants to spend some more time with bahorel, and it’s a shame that he wasn’t reading the room right when he thought baz was into him, but, well, you can’t have everything. maybe he can’t get laid by his super-hot neighbor, but hey, if he can meet some people who don’t mind that he doesn’t actually speak french yet, and if he can get to know bahorel a little better, he’ll take it.

feuilly goes to the party. jehan adores him, obviously. feuilly doesn’t, like... get what’s up with them, yet, since he didn’t watch french media growing up and therefore missed all of their child-stardom, but he likes them just fine, anyways. jehan’s like 20 and is blazed out of their mind and is having a medieval phase (one of many). feuilly is confused, but also within 90 minutes realizes that he would INSTANTLY throw hands with ANYONE if it was for jehan’s sake. so. 

jehan’s all like “go talk to grantaire! he knows all sorts of things about art! he’s working on painting me naked!” so feuilly goes to talk to the lump in the corner but like. listen. grantaire’s having a hard time. he doesn’t make an awesome first impression. not awful, just... he’s having a hard time. feuilly gets it. they become better friends a little later, mostly because bahorel keeps dragging feuilly around with him whenever he’s free. (not like feuilly minds)

but feuilly doesn’t make a move on bahorel again. because he must have misread the situation, right? otherwise they would have fucked. they’d BE fucking. too bad bahorel doesn’t like him like that. oh, well, at least they’re friends!

bahorel DOES like him like that. duh. feuilly’s awesome. but he hasn’t made a move on bahorel since that first afternoon. he’s probably just not that into bahorel, past the one-night-stand type stuff. oh, well, at least they’re friends!

life goes on. they hang out a lot. like, a LOT. they’re totally each other’s best friends. feuilly learns more french. (baz is actually super relieved when he can’t quite manage to get rid of the accent, even though he would never say so, because that would hurt feuilly’s feelings. baz tries not to act like a dick around feuilly, even though he kind of is one around other people, sometimes. he just... wants feuilly to like him.) feuilly gets absorbed into the group. he picks up another job, in addition to the work he’s doing for the gallery, and he’s making a little more money, which is good for both of them, because feuilly can afford meals that aren’t mostly rice, sometimes, and bahorel doesn’t have to spend all day every day wondering how he’s going to be able to get feuilly to let him pay for his food this time around. (if they were dating, baz thinks, if they were dating, he could take feuilly out for dinner and pay for it and pay for the wine and for the dessert, too, and feuilly wouldn’t be able to give him that look he shoots him whenever baz “accidentally” orders the wrong dish from the thai place down the road, so what if it always happens to be feuilly’s favorite, shut up, man, it’s a coincidence)

but feuilly’s making more money, so he decides to move out of his shitty attic apartment, because it kind of sucks, and it’s miniscule, and he’s an adult, damn it. he finds a new place that is marginally larger and marginally less shitty, and it’s not even that far away, just a couple blocks, and he tells baz he’ll be moving when his lease is up that year. 

bahorel just wants to beg him to move in with him, but he only has the one bedroom, and feuilly’s not his fucking boyfriend. so he helps feuilly move, because he’s a good buddy, and he gets hammered with grantaire, after, because grantaire is lonely for someone he hasn’t met yet and bahorel is terrified that feuilly isn’t going to want to hang out with him now that they aren’t neighbors anymore. 

feuilly, meanwhile, is across town at grantaire’s apartment (sans grantaire) getting blazed with jehan because he’s terrified that bahorel isn’t going to want to hang out with him now that they aren’t neighbors anymore. (jehan’s all 🥺You Are Always Welcome At My Humble Abode🥺 and feuilly’s very touched but he’s pretty sure he’s totally in love with bahorel and he’s scared and he’s also not sure that jehan even pays rent. so.)

they totally keep hanging out. obviously. (maybe a little bit less than they used to, but if baz thinks about that he’ll fucking cry.) bahorel feels a little bit like his heart is going to break, which is totally lame and which was not the plan when he agreed to help move a couch three years earlier. it’s just... there’s nobody like feuilly. there’s nobody even CLOSE to being like feuilly. and feuilly doesn’t like him. and so he spends a lot of time at grantaire’s place, and jehan finally gets their own apartment, so he’s free to cry into grantaire’s shoulder all he fucking wants.

feuilly goes on dates, sometimes. bahorel could totally treat him better than any of those dickheads. damn it.

bahorel hooks up with people, sometimes. feuilly could totally fuck him better than any of those dickheads. damn it.

and then grantaire gets a weird new roommate, or something. baz doesn’t know, fuck, nobody tells him jack shit. but he stops hearing from grantaire for a couple weeks, for the most part, and then he gets the party invite in the groupchat, and fuck, if there’s a housewarming party, he shall attend. feuilly mentions something to him about R’s new roomie being some philosopher, or something, but bahorel was kind of busy watching him fold up little origami flowers out of newspaper, so he missed all that. it’s cool, he’ll catch up.

apparently, grantaire’s roommate is from the 19th century. apparently, grantaire also has a massive fucking crush on him. huh.

when they first meet, feuilly and enjolras are kind of hilariously enamored by one another. not in a romantic way, just in a Very Intense Admiration type way. after they meet at the housewarming party, enjolras is like “I Must Find A Way To Speak With Feuilly Again, For He Is A Brilliant Mind And A Good Man” and combeferre is like... want me to invite him over? and enjy is like “No, I Must Pen Him A Letter. Yes. This Is A Good And Rational Plan.” (he spills coffee all over the letter right when he’s almost done and almost cries. ferre just invites feuilly over anyways.)

feuilly, of course, is freaking out about whether or not he can find a way to hang out with enjolras again. because! ahh!!! that’s François-Marie Enjolras, political revolutionary and philosopher!!!! feuilly’s read his essays like five times!!! what reason would he have to want to talk to feuilly? but also, like... he did want to talk to feuilly--at the party, he’d talked to feuilly for hours, and he’s so smart and a little funny and he’d listen to Feuilly go on and on about slavic history and he hadn’t looked bored once, and just- Ah!!!! and he’s trying to figure out if it would be weird if he asked enjolras if he’d want to meet over coffee when he gets combeferre’s text. (it’s something like, enjolras just composed a letter trying to ask you if you’d want to hang out with him do you want to come over before he uses up all of my printer paper? and then, also, don’t tell him i told you about the letter he’s kind of freaked about making a good impression) and feuilly’s just like. :o

and both grantaire and bahorel see enjolras and feuilly embarking on this sweet, awkward, smart person friendship and they’re like. Oh Shit. They’re In Love With Each Other. Shit. because of course feuilly would fall in love with enjolras--feuilly’s too smart for bahorel, anyways, baz has always known that, and it makes sense that he’d fall for someone who can keep up with him. and of course enjolras would fall in love with feuilly--feuilly is kind and super smart and he knows all sorts of things about modern philosophy and he’s hot, okay, and enjolras is too smart for grantaire, anyways. ugh. baz and R get hammered and cry about it together, but the shitty thing is that they can’t even be too angry, because it’s so obvious.

meanwhile, enjolras and feuilly are across town talking about their stupid crushes on their hot beefy friends. commiserating, yanno? feuilly’s all “sometimes i wish i just kissed him that first day i met him, sometimes i wish i hooked up with him at that party, maybe he would have started liking me after” and enjolras is all “why does he never wear shirts with SLEEVES, i do not know what to DO with myself!!!”

and then one day feuilly and baz are hanging out and baz is like “haha grantaire has the biggest crush on enjolras” (because he can’t keep a secret to save his life.) and feuilly’s like.... “grantaire likes enjolras?” and baz is like “uh YEAH dude. DUH” and feuilly’s like. “that can’t be right--enjolras told me grantaire doesn’t like him back” and baz is like... “bACK?” and then he’s like “WAIT ENJOLRAS DOESN’T LIKE YOU?” and feuilly is like... no?

they realize that their friends are idiots. and they try to help, really, they do--feuilly keeps suggesting that maybe, maybe, enjolras can’t know that grantaire doesn’t like him if he’s never actually asked, and he keeps pointing out things that grantaire does that nobody actually does if they’re not totally gone for somebody; bahorel is straight up just like “R bro enjolras wants to be your boy so bad” and R is like I Am Electing Not To Listen To You.

and then-

and then, they all go out to a bar together. they get hammered, etc. etc. and they’re laughing about how grantaire and enjolras are oblivious, how could they not know that they like each other, everybody keeps telling them to go for it, and then-

hold on.

hold on, because- because that’s what everybody tells bahorel about feuilly. that he should just go for it. that maybe it’s not as hopeless as he thinks. and feuilly’s just sitting there, and he’s so fucking pretty, sometimes, honestly, and bahorel loves him so much, and he’s drunk, and he can’t stand not knowing even a second longer. 

[ladyfenring]

i’m in the dark

Aethelflaed needs a date. Aldhelm is just the man for the job.

Rated T

written for @tlkfanficfest bingo

read it on ao3 if you wish

“So, let me get this straight.” Aldhelm folds his hands on top of the table. “You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend for a party, not because you are trying to make your ex jealous, but because you don’t trust yourself around him?”

“Basically,” Aethelflaed admits, blushing guiltily.

“And...what am I supposed to do? Throw myself in your path if it looks like you’re going to hit on him?”

“ I’m not really worried about me initiating anything,” she says slowly. “I’m more worried that Erik will make a move and I’ll do something desperate.”

“I see,” Aldhelm says wryly. “So if he sees you with someone, he won’t hit on you, and you won’t be tempted into desperation.”

“Exactly!”

He considers her. “Are you sure you want me to be your fake boyfriend? I mean, will I really stop him from hitting on you? I’m sort of a…”

“Dweeb?”

“Ouch.”

She smiles. “Sorry. But, to answer your question, yes. Erik is a good guy. He wouldn’t try to get between a couple.” She sips her tea. “Uhtred and Aethelred, on the other hand….”

“They’re both going to be there?”

“It’s a very small world,” she says wryly. “But I’m not in danger of doing something desperate with Aethelred, and Uhtred is one of those men who wouldn’t hit on another man’s girlfriend, if that makes sense, even if that man is, well…”

“A dweeb?”

“I was going to say a beta male.”

“I wish you’d stuck with dweeb.”

They both laugh, but as Aldhelm picks up his coffee, he wonders.

Personally, he doesn’t think that his presence is likely to stop Erik, or Uhtred, or even Aethelred from making a move on Aethelflaed if they really wanted to. He is, as she so bluntly reminded him, a dweeb. They won’t see him as a threat.

But that isn’t why he has reservations.

He has reservations because Aethelred knows—or at least suspects—that Aldhelm is in love with Aethelflaed.

Ironically, Aethelred had been his friend long before Aethelflaed had entered the picture. He hadn’t given Aethelflaed much thought when she started dating Aethelred; he was polite to her, as he was to all of Aethelred’s girlfriends, but he knew she wouldn’t last long, because none of Aethelred’s girlfriends did.

And she didn’t last long, but she did come back, desperate for someone, even Aethelred, to pick up the pieces of her broken heart.

Aethelred, in typical Aethelred fashion, was not interested in her heart, and without even meaning to, she had turned for solace to the only person who was kind enough to listen to her:

Aldhelm.

He’d listened—patiently, if slightly disinterestedly, at first—and before long, he’d found himself falling hopelessly, pathetically, and irreversibly in love with her.

“You’re so easy to talk to,” Aethelflaed had told him over coffee once, and he hadn’t had the courage to tell her that it was because listening to her talk was the highlight of his week.

Aethelred had figured it out eventually, but rather than being upset, he’d been relieved.

“Thank God,” he’d said. “You can fuck her and I can accuse her of cheating and we can break up.”

“Why can’t you just break up with her sans accusations of cheating?” Aldhelm had asked, askance.

Aethelred had rolled his eyes. “Because I want her to feel like she wronged me, so that someday when she’s feeling low, she’ll come crawling back for a pity fuck. She won’t do that if I break up with her just because I got bored of her.”

“I do believe,” Aldhelm had said, “that you are a sociopath.”

Aethelflaed had been the one to end things, and she’d taken Aldhelm with her in the breakup…but before he could summon the courage to tell her how he felt, she’d moved on to Uhtred, and by the time she and Uhtred had ended things, Aldhelm had come to cherish their friendship too much to risk it with his own feelings.

But Aethelred doesn’t know that. Aethelred might say something at the party, and then she’d realize Aldhelm has been in love with her for years, and then he’d look like…

Well.

A dweeb.

But then again, if he didn’t go with her, and Aethelred said something anyway…

“So?” Aethelflaed asks a bit nervously. “Would you, ah, consider it?”

“I’ll do it,” he decides, ignoring the way his heart leaps at her smile. “But if my beta-y presence isn’t enough to deter your exes, I shan’t be held responsible.”

Aethelflaed laughs. “I think we’ll manage just fine.”

.

As the evening of the party draws closer, however, Aldhelm begins to wonder if he’s made a mistake. It’s quite one thing to go to a party with Aethelflaed, and it’s quite another to pretend to be her boyfriend for the duration of that party, especially if no less than three of her exes will be prowling about.

God. Three. One ex, he might be able to handle, but three? He’s supposed to just waltz into a party with Aethelred and Erik and Uhtred and pretend he’s in the same league as them?

He picks up his phone on Saturday to tell Aethelflaed he’s not sure if this is such a good idea, but to his shock, his phone buzzes with a messenger notification from her.

I can hear you thinking.

He laughs out loud, his anxiety momentarily assuaged.

You can hear me from two miles away?

Yes. And I know you too well. You’re having second thoughts.

He hesitates before responding, but she messages him again.

STOP. It’s going to be fine. I’m more nervous than you are.

He smiles at his phone.

Right, sorry. It is going to be fine, and I’m not going to back out.

I can still hear you thinking.

...I don’t know what to wear.

That navy blue sweater you got last fall.

He tells himself not to read into the fact that she remembers that sweater, which he had specifically bought because she said blue was a good color on him. Instead, he puts the phone down and forces himself to take a deep breath.

It’s. Going. To. Be. Fine.

.

Aldhelm meets Aethelflaed in front of her building, and together, they take the train to Finan and Eadith’s housewarming party. Aethelflaed carries a potted plant, as she insists a house isn’t really a home until it has a plant.

“It’s not a home, it’s a fifth floor walkup,” Aldhelm notes wryly.

“Even more of a reason why it needs to feel like a home,” Aethelflaed dismisses.

Aldhelm has to admit, the flat is nicer than he was expecting. He’d been to the flat that Uhtred, Finan, Sihtric, and Osferth had shared in their bachelor days, and it had set some low expectations for tonight. He’s pleasantly surprised, therefore, to find that there is real artwork on the walls, not just a single Inception poster, and that the furniture seems mostly new and in the same color scheme.

Eadith greets them warmly, exclaiming over the plant while her eyes flit calculatingly between the two of them. Aldhelm knows she’s too polite to ask questions—at least while he’s around. As soon as she gets Aethelflaed alone, though, he’s sure she’ll ply her with questions.

“Aethelflaed!” Finan exclaims, bounding over to greet the newcomers. He hugs her warmly, muttering something Aldhelm can’t hear, but he’s positive he hears the name “Uhtred.” “And Aldhelm!” he adds brightly, stepping back.

“Aethelflaed and Aldhelm brought us a plant!” Eadith tells him, but there’s a look in her eyes that Finan picks up on.

“Thank you both,” he says emphatically, wrapping an arm around Eadith’s waist.

“Aethelflaed says a house isn’t a home until it has a plant in it,” Aldhelm offers.

“Well, she’s right,” Eadith says. “Sihtric had the same idea, which is why our bedroom is currently being hotboxed.” She takes Aethelflaed’s hand. “Come on, I’ll give you a tour.”

Aldhelm watches her leave with a feeling of trepidation. Should he play the dutiful boyfriend and follow? Or would that be creepy?

It doesn’t matter, because Finan waggles his eyebrows at him. “So, you and Aethelflaed.”

Aldhelm can feel himself flushing slightly. “Ah, yes. We are...together.”

“I always thought there was something between you two,” the other man declares proudly.

“Ah, yes, well,” Aldhelm says, not sure what else to say. “I like the new place.”

Finan lights up even more at that, happy to talk about his new home--which, Aldhelm is not at all surprised to learn, was decorated almost entirely by Eadith. Finan can’t stop raving about her taste, and honestly, Aldhelm finds it kind of adorable. He’s enjoying Finan’s rundown of the artwork (local, which would explain why Aldhelm finds it so…not to his taste, but Finan seems proud of it) when an uncomfortably familiar voice exclaims, “Is that fucking Aldhelm?”

Aldhelm tries to keep the smile on his face when Aethelred appears, an unfortunate rosiness to his cheeks that Aldhelm knows means he’s been drinking. “Aethelred.”

“God, it’s been ages,” Aethelred declares, clapping Aldhelm on the back. “How’ve you been?”

To Aldhelm’s dismay, Finan quietly slips away, leaving him to fend for himself. He supposes he can’t blame the other man; he would also like to slip away from Aethelred.

“Oh, fine,” Aldhelm says politely. “How about you?”

“Fine. This party’s lame,” Aethelred laments.

Aldhelm cocks his head. “Not to be rude, but why are you…here?”

“Eadith’s brother is trying to suck up to me so my father will hire him,” Aethelred says smugly.

Aldhelm raises an eyebrow. “And you decided to go to your ex-girlfriend’s housewarming party because…?”

“I heard Aethelflaed was coming.” Aethelred grins. “Is she here? Have you seen her?”

Aldhelm stiffens. “I came with her, as a matter of fact.” And, feeling oddly small, he adds, “We’re together.”

Aethelred’s eyebrows shoot towards his hairline. “Is that a fact?” His grin widens. “Well, it only took you for-fucking-ever. You’ve been in love with her for how long now?”

Aldhelm doesn’t want to rise to the bait, but he knows he can’t let the question go unanswered. “A while,” he mutters.

“A while. You tosser, it’s been years. I really thought you two were gonna get together when she broke up with me; imagine my surprise when I found out she was dating Uhtred. I guess he’s more her type, though, isn’t he? I mean, he’s good-looking and charismatic, and you’re that creepy friend who’s always lurking, hoping to catch her between boyfriends. That’s what this is, isn’t it?”

Aldhelm can feel his jaw clenching. “No, not really.”

“Not really,” Aethelred repeats, but he’s grinning victoriously, knowing he struck a nerve. “I wonder…if I made a move on her tonight, do you think she’d go home with me? I mean, I’m sure you fulfill her emotional needs or whatever it is she was always going on about, but can you satisfy her—”

Aldhelm doesn’t quite know what possesses him, but suddenly he’s reaching for one of the framed multimedia pieces on the wall and smashing it over Aethelred’s head.

There’s a stunned silence, and then Finan, Uhtred, Sihtric, and Erik cheer loudly.

There’s a commotion as Eadith’s brother bundles a dazed (but mostly unharmed) Aethelred out of the flat and about thirteen people rush to clean up the broken glass. Aldhelm sputters an apology to his hosts, but Eadith waves a careless hand.

“I bought it at my friend’s art show out of pity, and it was worth every penny to see you smash it over Aethelred’s head.”

Finan nods in fervent agreement.

Aethelflaed appears at Aldhelm’s side. “Can I talk to you?” she asks softly.

He nods, following her into the bedroom. It reeks of weed, so much so that Aldhelm’s eyes begin to water as soon as Aethelflaed closes the door. He opens a window, letting in the cool night air.

“Why does Aethelred think you’ve been in love with me for years?”

Aldhelm freezes, pretending to be fascinated by something outside. “Oh. I don’t know.”

“I find that hard to believe. You were close to him. Until we broke up.” Aethelflaed’s voice is tinged with suspicion.

Aldhelm wonders if he could climb out of the window and flee into the night. Probably not. “You know how he is.”

“Aldhelm.”

Unwillingly, he turns to face her, ashen.

She’s staring at him, an unreadable look on her face. “Is there any truth to what he said?”

He opens and closes his mouth. There’s no denying it, not anymore. “I…have been in love with you for a while, yes,” he admits. “And Aethelred knew. In fact, he wanted me to make a move on you while you two were together so you would cheat on him and he would have an excuse to break up with you.”

She raises an eyebrow. “But you didn’t.”

“Well, no, I’m not an asshole.” He clears his throat. “I valued—I still value—our friendship, and I don’t want to ruin it with my stupid crush.” He clears his throat again. “I’m not…just some creepy guy lurking and trying to catch you between boyfriends. But if…my feelings make you uncomfortable…”

“Aldhelm.”

He falls silent, sure she’s going to tell him that he’s a creep, that she never would have asked him to pretend to be her date if—

She closes the space between them and kisses him.

It takes him a moment to recover, to realize that there hasn’t been a mistake, that she’s kissing him, before he remembers to kiss back.

“Does this mean,” he asks after a long moment, “you aren’t totally repulsed by my confession?”

“Not totally,” she teases, and kisses him again. “Come on,” she says. “Let’s get out of here.”

His heart leaps. “Really?”

“Unless there was more artwork you wanted to destroy.”

“Well, now that you mention it…”

Aethelflaed laughs, and leads him out of the room.

[thepixiepaige]

Shes still got another 2-3k in her I think but here, have the first couple thousand words because I can't sleep.

Tw: misaligned kink, huge misunderstandings,bruises/marking, rough sex,

Pairings: reki/langa, adam/langa, (and soon adam/langa/reki wheneverI can get my tippy typers on board again u.u)

⛓❄⛓

Langas voice went low, smoothed over, and languid around a single syllable as soon as Reki's hands touched his throat, tipped his head up, and held him there with hard, calloused fingers.

 "Oh."

Reki flailed back, pulling his hand away in a flourish of motion, "Oh?! Shit, are you okay? Did I hurt you? I'm sorry I got kind of carried away. "

 Langa grabbed for his fingers, placed them against his throat again almost eagerly. "No! It was good. I... I liked it."

 When Reki's eyes snapped to his face, Langa could almost feel his uncertainty. He shifted his hips up against Reki encouragingly, working a shocked and bashful huff from his lips.

 Reki made a noise like he was drowning and met the motion eagerly. His fingers on Langa's throat stayed gentle.

 "Reki please," Langas voice, high and sharp, begged through their shared gasps. Settled, bone dry and cutting, against Reki's heart.

 He jerked his hands away again, fit them tight around the subtle arch of Langa's waist instead and fucked into him harder. The sound of skin and wailed gasps, the burn of Langa's fingers as he gripped at Reki's wrists and held felt like an apology.

 ⛓❄⛓

 "Would you be upset? If I saw Adam."

 Reiki’s fingers slipped on the truck he was tightening, sending the bolt, the wrench, and the entire board flying even as he shot out clumsy limbs to try stopping them all. “Upset? What? No. Of course not. Why would I be upset? Should I be upset?”

 Langa’s smiles were always a sight to behold. And this one was no different, small, and hidden behind the lock of hair that fell in front of his face as he ducked his head. When he looked back up the smile was still there but it was tinged with something more… heated. Steely.

 “I want to try some of the things you can’t do, Reki. It’s not that I don’t love you. Not that I don’t think you wouldn’t try. But I don’t think that’s fair to you. I don’t want to hurt you but I- I just want to know what it’s like. I think he could do that for me. With me.”

 Reki felt his heart break and mend and stutter all within the span of a minute.

 “Oh?” he said and then followed it with another, softer. “Oh.” He swallowed as he bent to pick up the fallen board and set it back to rights. “Yeah, of course. It’s been years, Langa. I’m not scared of that old asshole anymore. He doesn’t upset me. Of course you can see Adam.”

 Langa’s face lit up and Reki knew he’d done something Good. When he leaned in to kiss him Reki laughed, warm and bright, relieved by the touch he hadn’t known he’d been doubting. He brought his hand up to run gentle fingers through Langa’s faded blue hair. He pulled the taller man down to him, kissed the place where his hair was growing in dark at the roots. 

 “Thank you. Thank you. God, I love you.”

 ⛓❄⛓

 It started with a single day in an another wise innocuous week. The first of the month and a Saturday. Reki knew it by the fact that he had a showcase to work. One of the rare sort where he had to be a professional and talk numbers and couldn’t have Langa by his side so they could goof off and demo the new builds. 

 “I’m gonna see Adam today,” Langa whispered into his shoulder, pressing kisses into the side of Reki’s throat as he tried to shave in the foggy bathroom mirror. Reki angled his head to the side with a hesitant expression that he schooled fast, a skip in his heart that he ignored. 

 “Yeah, have fun with that,” he taunted, sarcasm dripping from his teeth as he tried to run the razor down his cheek without taking his entire face off. Langa’s eyes met him in the mirror. Watched his face as Langa slipped his hands beneath the towel wrapped around Reki’s hips and out of sight. 

Reki dropped the razor into the sink with a groan like satin, gripped the edge of the basin, and held on.

 He came home after Reki did, limping, and favoring one of his sides as he moved but his smile was huge and the relaxation in his frame was obvious in the way he poured himself onto the couch and into Reki’s lap. Reki snorted, cupped his palm over Langa’s shoulder, and kneaded at the knotted muscle beneath. 

 “Jesus, what did he do? Throw you into moving traffic?”

 Langa’s voice was soft and warm, “Something like that.”

 “Did you have fun?”

 “Yeah. Fuck, yeah.”

 Reki chewed on his words for a few seconds, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, “I’m glad.”

 Langa snorted then.

 “No really, I’m happy you’re enjoying yourself, you ass.” Reki pressed with the heel of his hand into the shoulder he had been massaging, feeling Langa’s entire body go taut with something that didn’t quite look like pain. He slid his hand around under Langa’s chin and tipped his head up. “I am, like, a nice person sometimes. Even about him.”

 “You are a very nice person, Reki. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

 Reki kissed him soft and then kissed him harder. Langa went liquid beneath him, rolling to his back and hissing in pain even as he tried to snake himself up for more contact.

 “God, what did y’all do?” Reki laughed.

 Langa pulled back, eyes focused and searching as he pushed Reki’s hair back from his face. 

 “Do you wanna know?”

 Reki thought about it. Remembered months of being jealous and bitter and mean over Adam’s focus on Langa. Over Langa’s returned interest. Remembered the fights and bloody knuckles when the two of them had finally had enough of trying to force too much emotion into wild, reckless, competition. Remembered the days of Langa forcing the two of them to sit down and actually talk it out and smooth things over into an antagonistic truce. 

 The resolution they eventually reached had taken even longer than Adam and Cherry’s had. But Reki got the feeling they’d done a lot more of their, "working it out" with their dicks out, though. He’d rather be forced to endure another month of Adam trying to force-feed him concrete than take part in that.

 And now, years later, that truce still held. Adam had even been at the housewarming party when Langa and Reki had finally decided that paying rent on two apartments was ridiculous when neither of them was ever alone in their own place for more than a few hours at a time.

 “Nah, y’all can have your thing. Just- don’t get hurt too badly, yeah?”

 ⛓❄⛓

 Langa did get hurt. Regularly.

 Watching him strip down in the washroom at the end of another day, one where he knew Langa had spent at least an hour or two at Adam’s, Reki was confronted with the darkening spread of newly forming bruises up the side of his partner’s thighs, cresting high onto his hip and over the curve of one side of his ass. The skin was flushed red, tight, and broken open in a few spots and-

 “Holy shit is that from Adam’s fucking board?!” 

 Langa turned, looking over his shoulder and pressing his long fingers into the forming crossbar shape of the crucifix skateboard Ainosuke had used in their final beef so many years before. “Yeah, kind of-” he breathed, voice low.

 Reki reached out to run his fingers over the mark before laying his palm, cool and comforting in comparison, over the whole of the wretched bruise already blooming. “I didn’t even realize he still had that thing. What the hell are y’all doing?”

 Langa grimaced, pressed into Reki’s palm, “It’s a lot to explain. You could... come. If you wanted.” His expression was nervous, vulnerable, as he watched Reki’s face.

 “Pffft. Trust me, I want nothing to do with whatever adrenaline junkie wild shit y’all get up to. I’m gonna keep my ass firmly planted in a design chair and just… stay out of it.”

 He reached around Langa to start the bath, letting the water warm before nudging the Canadian into it. “Let me wash your hair?”

 “Yeah. Please.”

 The next time it was a nasty cut on the top of his ankle, scraped skin bordering a gash that wrapped itself from the front of his leg almost entirely around to his achilles. It was stitched in one spot toward the center. Neat little sutures that were bathed in antiseptic but kept open to the air. His wrists were bruised as well, shocking and dark against his pale skin.

 “Langa, what the fuck!?”

 Reki shoved a set of chopsticks into his mouth to free his hands up to shove the pot he was stirring off the burner and shut it off. He spat them out unceremoniously and made his way into the entryway in a flurry of grasping arms and spinning limbs.

 “I’m okay, I’m okay. I’m good, Reki. Look at me.” Langa held his frantic partner's face in his hands. “I’m fine.”

 “What happened?”

 “I panicked a little. But it’s alright. Tadashi took me to the emergency room and I got stitched up in no time. Right as rain.”

 Reki’s expression went stormy, “Tadashi took you?”

 Langa turned his hands, fit his fingers over Reki’s mouth. “Not because Adam didn’t want to. It’s complicated. He felt bad about it, I promise. It’s okay, Reki. It was just an accident.”

 Reki believed him, kissed his fingertips where they still rested over his lips, and huffed out a frustrated noise. “I don’t want you getting hurt, Langa. This is the same shit as before and I want you fucking -”

 Langa’s laugh was bright and unexpected, still rare in its verbosity. “No, I can promise you this is nothing like before. Trust me.”

 Later that night Reki’s fingers worked fast over the touch screen of his phone;

[Text to Adam:] hurt him like that again and they wont be able to find all your pieces

[Text from Adam:] Don’t be jealous, Third Wheel. It’s a shitty look on you.

 ⛓❄⛓

 Reki did trust Langa. He trusted him with everything he had, with everything he was. And Langa was happy. For all of his bruises and pains and cuts, he came home from his visits every week or so sated and loose-limbed in a way that Reki could only remember having seen on him under street lights, stretched out and panting after landing tricks that felt impossible beneath the watchful eyes of the stars.

 That must have been why, when Langa came home with what was very clearly not a skateboarding injury, Reki saw red, blood boiling hot and livid with a rage that ached all through.

 “He’s fucking you? You’re letting him. Fuck. You.”

 Reki had his hands fisted in the collar of Langa’s shirt, had him pulled down to his face in a vice-like grip that threatened to tear the fabric at its seams. Beneath the stretched opening was a bruise in the shape of teeth, skin so close to broken it looked almost black at the spots Reki could almost see Adam’s teeth sinking.

 Langa looked confused, his eyes searching across Reki’s face for something. His words were careful, hushed, and so so quiet. 

 “Reki we… you said this was okay.”

 “What the hell are you talking about?”

 Langa wrapped his hands around Reki’s wrists, turned his head to press his lips to Reki’s palm only to have them wrenched from his clothing as quickly as they’d been put there.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me. I don’t know how to handle this right now I-” he scanned the room, brushed his hair back from his face, spun, and took a few hard steps away. “Stay here. I just- I need space for a minute.”

 He had his hands on the deck of one of the boards they kept lined up and neat by the door before Langa had fully dropped his hands. He wasn’t sure if the click of the door or the sound of his knees hitting the floor was louder.

 It was hours before Reki was home, the street lights flickering out with the rising of the sun as he shut the door quietly behind himself. He toed his shoes off and found Langa tear sodden but still awake, wrapped into himself in the corner of the couch.

 “Reki-”

 The redhead held up a scraped palm, condensed it into a single finger. “We need coffee. But then we’re gonna talk.”

 Langa nodded, scrubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes, and nodded somehow harder. When Reki turned to make his way into the kitchen he paused and waited, watched over his shoulder as Langa unfolded himself from the couch and climbed to his feet. When they stood together in the doorway Reki reached out scarred and calloused fingers to the place they both knew a bite lay blooming beneath layers of mindfully chosen fabric. 

 “I want you to tell me everything”

 ⛓❄⛓

[ivebeentolddreamingsfree]

6 I've Been Told Dreaming's Free

Chapter Six

Charlotte finds herself in a situation.

Charlotte sat behind the counter at the store. She wore dark sunglasses and nursed a cup of black coffee. She forgot the aspirin and water thing. Her head felt like someone was taking two cymbals and crashing them and her head was stuck between them. She was also about to nod off when the door swung open.

“Hey, Chuck!” someone shouted.

Charlotte groaned. “Would you shut up?” she grumbled before she looked up to see who she was about to murder.

Jerry stood before her, wearing that same leather jacket but this time in jeans and a flannel shirt instead of a poodle skirt. He also wore an annoying, Eddie Haskell grin.

“Oh, god. What do you want?”

“Just wanted to see how you’re doing. Stoney said you were pretty wasted last night.”

“I was not. And when did you see him?” She made a face. “And why am I a topic of your conversation?” Just to put some space between Jerry and herself, Charlotte got up from the stool and picked up a few packages of strings, and took them over to the pegboard to hang them up.

“He came back to the bar after he took you home. Bunch of us were surprised.”

“Surprised he came back? Why?”

“I mean …” Jerry trailed off and when Charlotte turned around to look at him, his Eddie Haskell grin looked more like the Cheshire Cat’s.

“What?”

“You know …”

I don’t know. What?”

“We just figured he’d close the deal.”

“What?!” Charlotte three the pack of strings in her hand at Jerry purely out of impulse.

He laughed when he caught it in one hand. “Come on. He’s into you. You guys really aren’t …”

“No! We’re friends. He’s the only one of all y’all that’s nice to me so you can …” She felt her face getting hot and Charlotte clenched her fists. “You can fuck right off!” And then she grabbed her head and groaned. “Dammit.”

“Finish your coffee and then drink some water and ta -“

“Take aspirin. I know! What are you even doing here, Jerry?”

He fiddled with the strings. “Wanna grab dinner sometime?”

Charlotte frowned. “Did I miss something?”

Jerry started to say something else when the door opened and Sean walked in.

“Dude, we gotta get going. Starr just knocked over the - “ He stopped when he saw Charlotte.

“Oh, shit. He did?” Jerry held up the package of strings and said to Charlotte, “I need these. Thanks.” And the two of them hurried out and started running down the sidewalk.

Charlotte sighed and shook her head as she shuffled back to her stool and picked up her coffee.

It was dark and rainy as she walked home from closing the shop at 9 pm. She was thinking that she should invest in a better umbrella than her old Mickey Mouse one that she’d had since she was ten. A car flew by, right through a puddle, and managed to drench Charlotte from head to toe.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

The car’s brake lights came on and it stopped fifty or sixty feet ahead. Then the reverse lights came on and it started to back up. Charlotte wondered if they heard her somehow. She looked around, hoping to find a place to duck into. There was nothing. Then she realized it was a blue Mustang. Xana.

The car stopped and Xana leaned across to roll down the passenger window. “Get in.”

“I’m going home.”

“No, you’re not. Get in. There’s a party.”

“I think I’m done partying for a while.”

Xana wasn’t taking no for an answer. She pushed the door open. “You’re getting wet, right?”

Charlotte mumbled, “Uh, thanks to you.” But she got in, anyway. “Were you on your way to my apartment?”

“Yeah. Andy said you gotta come. Made me come out here to get you.”

“Andy?”

“You know him. The more, the merrier.” Xana grinned.

The party turned out to be a makeshift housewarming party at Xana and Andy’s new apartment. Xana dragged her back to the bedroom and started throwing dry clothes at Charlotte.

Once Xana left the room, Charlotte sat down on the bed and tried to get her head to stop pounding. She figured that Stone would be here, too, and if she really wasn’t into it, Stone would drive her home again. So she took her boots off and then stood up and started peeling off her wet flannel shirt and tank top and the ripped black jeans she wore. Standing in the only partially dry article of clothing she had left that was her own, her underwear, Charlotte picked up a pair of leggings and was about to pull them on when the door abruptly opened.

“Xana, I - oh.” It was Jerry. Again.

Charlotte gasped and used the bundled-up leggings to cover her bare chest but then realized that she was mostly naked down below, too, and quickly turned her back to Jerry. “Get out!”

“Hey, what happened to you?”

“Get out! Get out! Get out!”

[ninzied]

i’ll be the light and lead you home when there’s nowhere left to go

hireath (n); a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past

for @heartonfirewrites. [ao3]

Being with Karen – it’s one of the easiest things that Frank has ever done.

Even before he put down the vest and showed up at her place for good – because there was no turning back for either of them after that – he had known. It was part of what kept him away for so long.

Being with Karen was everything right, and good, and Frank hadn’t believed in a long, long time that those things should even be possible for him. That they could be what he deserved.

He only half-believes it even now. But if he’s going to hell for letting himself have this, then he might as well make the most of this one small corner of light and good things until then.

Still, they have their not-so-good days. The days that try to drag them back into those dark, buried places of their past, before they had this. Before they found something else that they could not afford to lose.

There’s the date of every funeral they’ve ever been to, every loved one they’ve had to bury. There are other kinds of anniversaries, too. Birthdays. Christmas. The day Frank got married. But they all carry with them the same kind of heaviness. They all came to an end the same way.

There are more of these kinds of days than either of them would like to count – days that feel like they belong to some other life, but will never stop haunting them in the one they’re living now.

Each one comes with a static kind of silence around it.

They have their own ways of dealing. Frank rises even earlier than usual and goes for a run down the Hudson. He runs until his whole body might be on fire, and then he just keeps on going. Karen throws herself into her work; if she’s not out chasing leads, she’s hunkered down at her computer, fingers flying over the keys.

It takes some navigating, but they’ve learned how to be there for each other without overstepping – how to be gentle with all that silence, how to cradle it close without it breaking. How to let the silence know that it is not alone.

Karen has coffee waiting for him after his long morning runs – black, and scalding, just the way he likes it. She doesn’t tease him for it like she would on any other day, and every kiss that he gives her tastes just a touch bittersweet.

Frank, on his part, cleans their apartment, cooks her dinner. She’s not great at remembering to feed herself on a regular day, so on the hard ones in particular he makes sure the table she’s working at is well-stocked with actual food.

They come back to each other in the twilight hours. Before they had this, their tomorrows had always been more of the same, but now, at least – now, their tomorrows actually mean something again.

…

Their own birthdays are on the quieter side too, but it’s nice. It’s soft. It’s them.

Nothing to fuss about, just the two of them curled up on the couch and, for once, not letting the rest of the world have any say in the matter. Frank takes the day off of work, and per Karen’s request stows her phone and computer some place she won’t think to find.

They’ve always promised each other no parties – and truly, a party is not what Karen has in mind when she first approaches Curtis for something small, something quiet, this year. She’d gotten the okay from Frank to include him, and there’s a bottle of whiskey she’s stashed in the cabinet just for the occasion.

But then Curt had asked if he could bring a mutual friend, which is how Dinah winds up greeting a slightly startled Frank at the door with wine and a meat-and-cheese platter. And then the postcard to Florida that Karen had mailed months ago gets returned to the sender – hand-delivered by a tanned and beaming Amy, who also brought a pink plastic flamingo as a “housewarming” gift, and a genuinely awful Hawaiian print shirt for Frank.

“I’m never going to wear that,” says Frank before enveloping her in a tight hug.

Karen wants to ask him if this is okay – really, she couldn’t have accounted for all of this happening – but then Frank looks over at her with shining eyes, and her chest could crack open from all the love she sees in them.

“Any more surprises I should know about?” he asks her, voice gruff as he steals her into their room for a kiss.

Karen puts a hand on his chest, and says in a half-apologetic tone, “I might have texted the Liebermans last week.”

“Did you, now.” He chuckles under his breath.

“I didn’t mention your birthday, but they seem like the type to put two and two together.”

“Unbelievable,” says Frank with a shake of his head. “How’d you even – never mind.” He kisses her again, lacing their fingers together before rejoining the others.

David and Sarah show up with their kids half an hour later.

It should feel like a squeeze – it was a small apartment even before Frank moved in with her – but instead, the only thing it feels is right, having the space filled with the warmth of everyone’s laughter, and the look on Frank’s face, every time their eyes meet and he breaks out into another smile.

…

So when Karen’s birthday comes around, Frank finds himself anxious about getting it right, in a way that he hasn’t before. In spite of what he’d told her he wanted for his own birthday, she’d done him one even better, and it was, hands down, one of the best birthdays he’d had in a long, long while.

He wants that for her, too. After all the shit that she’s gone through, after being the one there for him, the least he could do is make this day a really damn good one for her.

“This is exactly why we made those rules,” Karen has to remind him, when he ends up ruining the French toast in his agitation. He scowls at the remains before tipping them into the trash.

“Yeah? Rules say something about not being able to make my girl some goddamn toast?” Frank groans, reaching his hand out to hers and tugging her up against his side.

“No,” says Karen, tilting her head at him with a smile. “Rules say not to worry too much if you burn it.”

“I’ll try to remember that for next time.” He wraps his other arm around her, nudging their foreheads together. “Happy birthday, Karen.” He kisses her soft and slow, and she makes a small humming sound when they part.

Her hand comes up to touch his cheek. “Hey,” she says. “This is all I want, Frank.”

He sighs, head dropping down to his chest for a moment. She cups his face in both her hands, until he’s finally looking back up at her.

“Okay?” she says.

“Okay,” he says, and means it.

He ends up taking her to a little corner café for breakfast instead. Afterward, they stroll hand-in-hand down by the river before checking out one of the animal shelters nearby. They almost walk out with a dog, and make a pact to come back after they’ve found a bigger place to live next year.

They meet Nelson and Murdock for a late lunch on one of the piers, and by then Frank’s feeling fully at ease. He even has a good time with them. He finds Nelson amusing, not that he’d ever admit it, and even Murdock’s grown on him a little over the years.

Karen looks happy. And that’s all that really matters to him.

Frank’s at the bar getting them another round of beers when he hears the phone ring. Karen’s. He recognizes the ring tone. But he doesn’t think anything of it until he’s turning around with their drinks, and he sees the look on her face as she stares down at the screen.

Shit.

Karen excuses herself from the table, and makes her way down toward the water until she’s just out of earshot. Frank sets the tray down, watching her back tense as she talks, and nods with a pained kind of smile that breaks his fucking heart.

He should’ve seen this coming.

There’s a reason why Frank stashes her phone out of sight every year. It’s a reminder of the people who don’t call on their birthdays – the people who can’t, and the people who won’t. Or the people who send one lousy text a week late, and can’t be bothered to answer when she tries calling back.

Murdock’s face is expressionless, but Frank knows he’s listening in on the other line.

“That her piece of shit dad, isn’t it.” His hands are fisted so tight that it feels like the only way he can loosen them up is to just fucking hit something.

Murdock remains silent, which Frank takes as confirmation enough.

He stalks over to Karen in time to hear the tail end of her conversation.

“Sure, Dad,” she’s saying, with that same strained smile that makes it look like she’s halfway to bursting in tears. “I can make a few phone calls, see what I can do.”

Frank stops abruptly in front of her, his whole body seething. Is he seriously calling to ask for a favor? The shitbag even remember it’s her goddamn birthday today?

“Give me the phone.”

Karen holds out a placating hand, eyes steady on his. They’re watering slightly, but she musters up a small, genuine smile for him. He steps closer, swaying forward a little. His vision’s gone a little blurry too.

“C’mon, Karen. Let me talk to him.”

“Sure thing, Dad,” she says into the phone, and he hates how small that man makes her sound, how young and just – so fucking delicate, like the wrong word from him might break her. Like the right one could make some part of her whole again.

“Karen…” If he could just give him a piece of his mind—

“Bye.” She hangs up, and stares at the phone until the screen blanks out. She heaves a deep, shaky breath, looks over the railing, and then, almost in slow motion, lets go of the phone in her hand. They watch it tumble down to the water, where it slips out of sight with a splash that probably only Murdock could hear.

“Guess you won’t be able to make those calls after all,” says Frank after a moment, and it startles a watery laugh out of her, eyes bright as she looks at him with more gratitude than he’ll ever deserve.

“Not today,” she says, pressing the heel of her hand to one cheek and swiping away the moisture there.

“Not today,” Frank agrees, voice low and firm and final. But then she’s looking back out at the water, something distant clouding up her expression, and he feels a fresh, hot guilt churning around inside his stomach. “I’m sorry, Karen. I—”

She turns and slips her arms around him, burying her face into his shoulder.

He wraps her up tight, cradling the back of her neck and making soft shushing sounds to her as she starts to cry.

…

They’re curled up on the couch later that night. Frank’s not much of a baker, but he’d tried his hand at a cake, which hadn’t turned out nearly so bad as the French toast from that morning. What’s left of the cake now is on the coffee table in front of them, plus a stray crumb or two that he thumbs away from Karen’s bottom lip before planting a couple of kisses there.

“Thank you,” she tells him, and he knows she’s not just talking about cake.

Frank shakes his head. “I didn’t…”

“Stop.” She puts a hand on his mouth. He noses a kiss to the pad of her finger. Her eyes are still red-rimmed from earlier, but she hasn’t shed a tear since. He thinks she’s one of the strongest people he’s ever known. “You did,” she tells him. “You do.”

“Not enough.”

“It’s everything.” She snuggles up close. “And what I say goes. Don’t forget, it is still my birthday for another twenty-three minutes.”

He breathes out a laugh in her hair. “And after?”

“After,” she says simply, “is another tomorrow with you.”

His throat closes up, and it’s all he can do to just kiss her again for a moment.

He holds her gaze when they part, finger stroking over her cheekbone. “You’re everything, to me. You got that?”

Karen bites back a smile. “I think I have some idea.”

And for the next twenty-three minutes and counting, he proceeds to make doubly sure that she does.

[dimigex]

Healing Hands, Chapter Seven

New chapter is up and I’m so excited to say it’s a start of the new arc! 

You can find it on Fanfiction and Archive (linked for your convenience). But, here’s a snippet. The full chapter was over 8k words, so please find it on one of the other sites if you want to read the rest!  

After nearly a month of careful inquiries, disappointing viewings, and unreasonable prices, Sakura found an apartment. The process had been about what she'd expected, though the selection left a lot to be desired. Sakura had wanted somewhere closer to the hospital than her parents house, but in a different building from Kazuko's. She'd formed an uneasy truce with the man over the past few weeks by ignoring what happened between them. There had been no more dinners or mixed-up, alcohol-fueled kisses in the dark, only professionalism.

Sakura found it easy to shift from budding friendship to simple coworkers, and Kazuko didn't question it. She was thankful for that much at least, because, regardless of their extracurricular problems, Sakura and Kazuko worked well together at the hospital. She didn't depend on him as much as she might have before things changed, but at least it wasn't awkward any longer.

The majority of Sakura's free time had been spent looking for an apartment, then getting her life in Konoha settled. She had taken Naruto out for ramen one night and was surprised to find that the boy had matured in the time they'd spent apart. He'd been busy with missions in an attempt to bolster his number of completed missions. Naruto needed to catch up if he wanted to be considered for Hokage in a few years when Kakashi retired. It was nice to know that his dream hadn't faded, especially when so many other things had changed.

Naruto and Sakura's conversation had turned to Sasuke at one point during dinner, but Naruto read the situation and dropped it after a couple of awkward questions. The night had gone better than Sakura thought it would, and they'd agreed to meet up every few weeks to stay in touch. Naruto spent a lot of time in and out of the village with missions these days, but he promised to make an effort to see Sakura, especially if it involved ramen. Some things would never change.

Smiling to herself, Sakura fussed over the pillows on the couch. They weren't the color that she would have chosen, but they complemented the rest of the room. Mebuki had picked them out on their latest shopping trip. Her mother's touch was obvious in each of the rooms, but Sakura hadn't resisted, even when she disagreed. Mebuki needed to feel like she still had a place in Sakura's life and the colors didn't bother her that much. Besides, she could "lose" the pillows later if she wanted to.

A knock on the door drew Sakura away from her contemplations. Taking a deep breath, she finished adjusting the cushions and went to answer. Sakura was both looking forward to having Ino over, and nervous about it at the same time. The girls had talked only a couple of times over the past few weeks, mostly commiserating about how hard being an adult was. Then, they'd laughed about being considered adults. Rebuilding her friendship with Ino felt natural, normal even.

When Sakura opened the door, Ino stepped into the tiny space and looked around with a telling curl on her lips. When her gaze came back to Sakura's face, however, the blond's smile was falsely bright. "It's cute."

Sakura groaned at the fake optimism and closed the door. "Is it bad?"

Ino didn't answer for a long moment, looking around the room with a calculating expression. Then, she nodded as if she'd reached some decision. "Are you allowed to paint?"

"I think so," Sakura answered, raising her shoulders in a shrug. "I'll have to check the lease."

True to her promise, Mebuki had helped Sakura decorate when she moved in two days ago. Candles, photographs, and trinkets filled the space in a way that Sakura never would have considered on her own. It almost felt like a home, or would soon enough. Only a few hours before Ino arrived, Mebuki had appeared with half a dozen bags in hand. The new throw pillows on the couch and the towels in the bathroom were a reminder of her mother's attention to detail.

It wasn't until Sakura moved her things into the larger space that she realized how few personal items she'd accumulated over the years. Thankfully, the apartment had basic furniture; Sakura didn't own any. A picture of her much younger self and the rest of Team Seven grinned at Sakura from a table beside the door. Half a dozen other snapshots surrounded it. Medical textbooks that Tsunade had gifted to her were tucked into a basket beside the couch. A bowl of bright fruit sat on the table.

"We can fix it," Ino declared, placing her bags beside the couch. After a moment, the blond turned to face Sakura, a devious grin sliding onto her lips. "So, who is he?"

Frowning, Sakura tried to follow the mental leap from talking about the apartment to whatever this was. "Who is who?"

Ino reached into one of the bags and pulled out a bottle of wine and matching glasses. As she walked toward the kitchen, she called over her shoulder. "It's not Sasuke again, is it? He wasn't good for you the first time, and he won't be any better the second."

Once Sakura finally caught up to Ino's reasoning, she rolled her eyes and followed her friend to the kitchen. "What makes you think there is even a him to begin with?"

Affecting a gasp, Ino covered her mouth and waggled her eyebrows in Sakura's direction. "Well then, who is she?"

Ino's question ended in a strangled gasp when Sakura smacked her with one of the questionably colored tea towels that Mebuki had selected. The girls dissolved in a fit of laughter that left them with red faces and aching sides. Still chuckling, Ino poured two glasses of wine, then followed Sakura back to the living room. As they settled on opposite sides of the creaky couch, Ino tipped her head to the side to study Sakura. "Seriously though, why the sudden urge to move out if it wasn't to get a little action? You said it's been months since you got some. How do you stand it?"

Sakura tried not to let herself flush at the memory of the almost dalliance with Kazuko as she shrugged. "There are more important things than sex. Besides, work keeps me busy."

"Riveting." Ino mimed a yawn, then her lips contorted into a wicked smile. "Speaking of work, I've heard that there's a good-looking, young doctor at the hospital these days. Would you happen to know anything about that?"

Sakura grinned, forcing the thoughts of Kazuko as far from her mind as possible. "I am pretty cute."

"Ha ha, very funny." Ino rolled her eyes then tossed a pillow at Sakura. "You know, I also heard that this handsome young medic had dinner with a certain pink haired kunoichi who you might also know."

Fighting down the blush that threatened to stain her cheeks, Sakura kept her expression neutral. She had already started to regret going to eat with Kazuko for fear of the rumors it could spawn. If she had to deal with it from Ino as well, Sakura wasn't sure that she'd make it. "Don't you have better things to do than gossip?"

The blond laughed. "I am Head of Intelligence in Konoha. It's pretty much my job to know everything."

"You don't have to be so good at it," Sakura grumbled, realizing that she'd been beaten before her mouth opened. Ino probably knew more about Kazuko than Sakura did. Though, maybe not, since he wasn't a shinobi. Accepting that Ino wouldn't leave it alone, Sakura settled on a version of the truth to feed the woman's curiosity. "We'd had a shitty day and were just decompressing."

"Together." Ino drew out the word with a suggestive flair, eyebrows waggling.

Huffing out an annoyed breath, Sakura nodded. "Yes, together, and that's all there is to it. He's a civilian."

Ino hummed under her breath, considering the words from multiple angles before speaking. "Does that mean you have to go on a certain number of dates before you can fuck him? I can never remember."

Laughter burst out of Sakura before she could stop it. "I don't think so, but it wasn't an issue. What about you? Who are you sleeping with these days?"

For the first time in a long time, the color on Ino's cheeks had nothing to do with makeup. Sakura's mouth fell open at the unexpected reaction. "Oh my god, who is it?"

"Nobody," Ino answered, draining the remainder of her wine in one long pull. "I think it's time for a refill. It's hardly a housewarming party without a little alcohol."

Narrowing her eyes at her best friend, Sakura held out her glass. Perhaps the drink would loosen Ino's tongue about whomever it was that made her blush like a little girl again. And if not, Sakura had sources too. Ino wasn't the only person who could dig up a little gossip.

----------BREAK-----------

Moving into her own apartment had given Sakura a modicum of freedom that she hadn't known she'd been missing. At least, in some respects. On the first night that Sakura worked, Mebuki had brought dinner by, and there had been enough leftovers to last several days. When those were finished, Sakura realized that she'd have to add a grocery trip and meal preparation to her routine, not to mention laundry. She hadn't recognized how much her mother still helped her until she had to do everything herself.

Even so, Sakura was thankful to have a place to call her own. She could have the occasional glass of wine without her mother's disapproving looks, sleep late on her days off, and have people over whenever she wanted. Not that Sakura had many opportunities for the latter. Apparently everyone else was busy doing adult things too.

Sakura hadn't found the time to take Naruto out for ramen a second time. Their schedules made it difficult, but she hadn't put as much effort into it as she should have. Sakura simply didn't have time to do everything that she wanted to do with all of her responsibilities. Not to mention, constantly being on alert for Anbu who might need her. Over the past week, she'd only treated one shinobi, a genin who'd gotten over enthusiastic with his shuriken training.

The situation with Kazuko had settled down, though Sakura hadn't talked to him about anything. They had gone their separate ways like adults, working together when necessary and separately when possible. She thought that time would eventually smooth it over. Now, if she could learn to control the blush that crept in whenever an unwanted memory sprung up in her mind.. Maybe Ino was right. Sakura just needed to get laid.

Not much chance of that, Sakura mused as she settled in bed after a long day. Her shift at the hospital hadn't been so bad, it was the running around after work that did her in. But, at least she had enough fresh vegetables to make food for the next several days. Contemplating which dishes she wanted to try her hand at first, Sakura drifted to sleep..

The onions were too large to be considered diced, and Sakura couldn't get her eyes to stop watering long enough to correct her mistake. She grumbled under her breath and continued to chop the pesky vegetables. A pan bubbled and hissed; steam rose in tantalizing waves that wafted the scent of meat and garlic across the room. Sakura nodded to herself, shoved the onions into a smaller bowl, and moved back to the stove.

Focused on the food, Sakura didn't hear the soft footfalls behind her until arms snaked around her middle. She squeaked and suppressed the urge to lash out with chakra. Soft kisses burned a trail along the shell of her ear as she swatted the hands. She tried to complain that she was too busy for the man's attention, but they both knew it was a lie.

When Sakura turned, the man's face was indistinct, a face that she could have seen hundreds of times during her day. She didn't have long to study his features before warm kisses made her forget everything else. Nimble fingers worked at the apron that Sakura had secured around her midsection; his hands drifted lower as the string came loose.

Beep, beep, beep. Sakura squeezed her eyes shut as the hands pulled her closer in a dizzying rush. The kisses along her neck were gaining heat, burning through her attention span. "Don't you need to get that," an unfamiliar voice husked by her ear. Beep, beep, beep. Sakura reached for the oven behind her, frowning at the numbers slowly ticking down. Beep, beep, beep.

The buzzing of Sakura's pager drew her from the warm confines of sleep. She blinked, trying to capture the remnants of her dream, but the urgency of the noise drove them from her mind. Sakura peered at the tiny digits indicating the time, then groaned. Why couldn't Anbu have emergencies during normal business hours?

Throwing off the blankets, Sakura climbed out of bed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She stripped off the oversized t-shirt and reached for standard issue jonin blues. Sakura couldn't be bothered with the complicated snaps and buttons of her normal attire while half asleep. Tying off the pants, she grabbed a bag that held everything she'd need for an emergency consultation from beside the night stand and headed toward the door.

The streets of Konoha were eerily quiet in the deepest hours of the night, deserted except for the occasional flicker of unseen protectors at the corner of Sakura's vision. The fluorescent lights of the hospital glowed in the darkness, drawing Sakura like a moth. When she stepped through the doors, the same blanket of silence that cloaked the village enveloped the reception area.

Sakura turned away from the serenity, preparing for chaos. She'd barely reached the shinobi wing before Chiasa hurried toward her. Blood splattered the woman's scrubs as she indicated one of the rooms. "This way, Haruno-sensei."

Chiasa had already attached monitors to the patient while awaiting Sakura's arrival. The machines beeped an urgent rhythm that forced the last vestiges of sleep from Sakura's mind. Her eyes darted to the heart rate, lips pulling into a frown. The number was higher than Sakura wanted to see for someone as physically fit as an Anbu.

A flash of silver caught Sakura's eye; armor littered the floor. A chest plate tilted haphazardly against the leg of a chair. Metal arm guards and black compression gloves piled in a corner. Streaks of mud brown and dappled crimson looked like a macabre art display against the crispness of the bed's sheets.

Shaking her head to clear the image, Sakura moved closer to the bed. She noticed the man lying on it for the first time. Familiar brown hair stuck up in a dozen directions, pushed there by the faceplate and mask that lay beside his hand. Despite the chaos of the scene around them, Yamato's face looked markedly untouched by whatever injuries had brought him to the hospital.

The man's black compression shirt had been cut away, baring Yamato's chest to the light. Minor cuts and gashes decorated his arms and shoulders, each one in various states of healing. On his left side, a bloody bandage clung to the skin, mud and dirt covering it. The edges were too saturated to bond well; it had reopened at some point, allowing debris into the wound.

Sakura dropped her bag into a chair and dug out the tools she needed. One hand came up with a stethoscope that she draped around her neck, and the other held a pen light. Sakura thumbed open Yamato's eyes to check his pupil's reaction and was surprised to feel the burn of fever beneath her fingers. "Yamato? Can you hear me? Do you know where you are?"

When the man didn't answer, Sakura tucked the light into her pocket and turned to Chiasa. "What do we know? Do we have any information? Where is his team?"

Chiasa glanced down at the notes, though Sakura knew the woman hadn't forgotten any of the information from the intake. The nurse nodded to herself. "A member of his team brought him in while he was unconscious. The girl didn't stay around to check on his status."

Sakura frowned at that addition, wondering if friendships in the black ops meant so little and who the girl was. She didn't have time to answer that question now. Chiasa offered a shrug as if she could read Sakura's thoughts, then continued. "I was told that I don't have clearance for the details of the mission, so your guess is as good as mine on what happened."

A flash of fury burst in Sakura's chest at the words, but she forced it away. With a sharp dip of her head, she moved closer to Yamato and sighed. "I wish I had the time to be gentle."

Bracing her hands against Yamato's shoulders, Sakura pushed her chakra through his semi-conscious defenses. The man arched, a soft growl ripping free from his throat as she probed the injuries. As she'd expected, a dozen or more smaller wounds vied for her attention. They were minor compared to the one on Yamato's side. Another significant cut crossed his thigh, undoubtedly wrapped and hidden by the fabric of his pants, but that would need attention as well.

Ignoring the inconsequential details, Sakura focused on the most threatening injuries. Both the chest and leg were infected. She eased chakra into the wounds, lessening the body's strain to heal itself. A sluggish pulse of blood caught her attention; a tiny laceration on Yamato's liver. Sakura's forehead knit together in concentration as she pushed healing energy around the wound, forcing the body to speed its repair. She spent as much chakra as she dared, but the infection presented another problem.

Sakura lifted her hands away from Yamato's warm skin and wiped them down the front of her pants. It was only then that she realized that she hadn't bothered to don her lab coat, another detail that hardly mattered. She turned back to Chiasa. "Let's start with a broad spectrum antibiotic. Has he been coherent since they brought him in?"

Chiasa shook her head as she turned to the medicine cabinet to find the items needed to start an IV line. Sakura tapped her fingers against her thigh as she chewed her lower lip, mumbling to herself. "Where is your team? Why didn't they stay? And, what the hell happened?"

Grumbling under her breath, Sakura swiped her hair away from her neck in a messy ponytail as she considered the options. Trying to purge infection was trickier than poison; it was a body's response to stimuli instead of foreign invaders that she could isolate. It would be better to clean the wounds with traditional medicine and drain the infections, especially since Sakura wasn't sure what she was dealing with yet.

Sakura released her chakra when Chiasa appeared at her side, holding out the medicine. She nodded and made the notation in Yamato's chart. The page was empty except for Chiasa's intake notes. Sakura resisted the urge to throw the file against the wall as she checked the numbers. Yamato's blood pressure and heart rate were higher than she wanted them to be, especially after healing. Had she missed something?

Kneeling, Sakura picked up the discarded chest plate that she'd noticed earlier. A puncture in the side correlated with the injury to Yamato's chest. Whatever hit him had to have been moving at incredible speed to crumple the armor that way. Sakura placed the item on the chair, then collected the arm guards to join it. She reached for his mask, brushing her fingers over the green and red stripes on the cat's cheeks that had kept his features free of wounds. Sakura wondered if the animal had been assigned, or if Yamato had picked it himself.

After placing the mask with the rest of the armor, Sakura crossed the room to pull a blanket from the cabinet. Since the rest of Yamato's team hadn't stuck around long enough to see how he was doing, she had no idea what to do with it. The man had essentially been abandoned, and it infuriated Sakura. Was that the way that all Anbu treated each other? She couldn't imagine bringing Naruto or Sasuke to the hospital in this condition and leaving them there.

Sakura sighed, watching the efficient way that Chiasa worked. The nurse had already gotten an IV line started in Yamato's wrist and was buzzing around the machines connected to his body. Sakura glanced at his heart rate and blood pressure again, frowning. "I want vitals checked by hand every twenty minutes for the next three hours," she decided aloud.

"If there are no changes after that," Sakura glanced at her watch, startled to find the time so late already. "After that, I'll be back on shift and can reevaluate him myself."

Chiasa nodded, familiar with the expectations. "Do you want any blood work?"

"Yeah, let's get a cbc and blood culture to see what we're up against." Sakura paused, then nodded to herself. There was nothing else that she could accomplish tonight. "I'm going to try and catch a couple of hours of sleep in my office. Wake me if there are any changes."

Gathering her bag from beside the bed, Sakura slung it over her shoulder and walked from the room. The silence of the hallways made her uneasy. She was used to the hustle and bustle that predominated day shift, but more emergencies came through the doors at night. Sprains and stuffy noses were replaced with broken bones and heart attacks. Sakura didn't envy the men and women who worked while everyone else slept. She'd done more than her fair share of night shifts when training with Tsunade, mostly because the woman liked sleep more than she liked her student. Or, so Sakura thought.

A ratty couch tucked into one corner of Sakura's office, a new addition for these late night Anbu surprises. It was hardly long enough to stretch out on, even for someone of Sakura's height, but it worked in a pinch. The room was blissfully dark at least. Sakura tossed her bag onto the floor, then tried to get comfortable on the lumpy cushions. Seconds ticked by, then minutes. Despite the exhaustion nagging the back of her mind, Sakura's body refused to rest. Sighing, she moved back to the desk and flipped on the light.

A dozen charts waited for Sakura's attention, but she couldn't focus enough to deal with the tiny details that they required. Her mind refused to settle enough for sleep, but wouldn't let her work. Sakura had assumed that the worst missions, the ones that left shinobi broken and battered like Yamato, had become an exception now that the world was at peace. She berated herself for that naivety. The current political situation was tenuous at best, forced by fear or respect for Naruto and Sasuke. Anbu continued to put their lives on the line daily and would do so until something major changed

Sakura's frown deepened as she considered Yamato, still trying to reconcile the fact that he was Anbu. She had wondered why she saw so little of him after the war, but hadn't thought to comment on it. Sai had never mentioned the man in relation to Anbu either, but that wasn't surprising considering the security around them. Sai wasn't one to gossip, anyway. Sakura tapped her fingers against her forearm, then checked her watch, less than an hour had passed.

Giving up on the idea of sleep, Sakura pushed to her feet and left her office behind. The halls were still deserted and silent as she walked back to Yamato's room. Chiasa had gone, dimming the lights before she left to help her patient rest. Beside his bed, the alarm on the monitor flashed, but it had been silenced for being constantly out of normal parameters. Yamato's heart rate and blood pressure remained elevated.

The healing, push of fluids, antibiotics, and rest should have lowered the number by now. Sakura stepped closer and captured Yamato's wrist in her hands. Her fingers pressed against his pulse point, surprised to feel the rapid beat through the skin. She had wondered if the machine was getting a false reading somehow, but her physical count came up with the same number or close enough that it made no difference. Sakura laid his hand back on the bed and frowned. "Why aren't you stabilizing?"

As Sakura expected, Yamato didn't answer. Chiasa had cleared away the tatters of his uniform, then cleaned and wrapped the wounds. Yamato's armor remained beneath the blanket where Sakura had left it. The man looked different without the jonin uniform and usual head protector. She brushed her fingers over his forehead, feeling the warmth of fever. Yamato's temperature was up, but not high enough to force his body to shut down. "Did I miss something," Sakura wondered aloud, mentally cycling through the dozens of medical textbooks that she'd read over the years.

Lowering her hands to hover above Yamato's chest, Sakura eased her chakra into his body. The echo of the man's life force ruled out chakra exhaustion. Sakura had tended to Kakashi after battle enough times to know what that felt like. Yamato's chakra brimmed with energy and life.

Sakura quested deeper, reexamining the injuries and looking for something that she could have missed. It was exactly as she'd seen earlier, minus her healing. Huffing, she broke the connection between herself and Yamato. When Sakura opened her eyes, she was startled to find Chiasa at the end of the bed with a stethoscope in hand. The woman was coming back to get the next set of vitals. Sakura dipped her chin in greeting. "Have we gotten any results yet?"

"Not yet," Chiasa answered, pulling the file from the box at the end of the bed. "We should have part of it back in the next couple of hours, but the culture will take longer."

"Yeah," Sakura agreed, humming thoughtfully. Her eyes swept over Yamato again, then returned to his heart rate. "Draw a tox screen as well, and put a rush on the results."

If Chiasa was surprised by the unusual request, her face didn't reveal it. She nodded and made a notation in the chart. "Anything else, Haruno-sensei?"

Sakura shook her head, wondering if any of the tests would help her fit the pieces together into an image that made some kind of sense. She rested a hand on Yamato's bare shoulder. "We'll get to the bottom of this soon, I promise."

Don’t miss the rest of the chapter, linked above! 

[pepethehobbit]

VDS College AU

Okay so first of all, Hi everybody. I have never written anything in my life before, at least not a fan fiction, so please be gentle with me. Also notice that English isn’t my first language, so if there are any mistakes I am sorry and I am asking you to please point them out to me. In general, any constructive criticism is welcomed.

I originally wanted to wait for vds week to post this but I finished it and I would really like your feedback and reactions. I am truly very nervous, I usually don’t put myself out there, so please be kind, yeah?

Now to the fic itself. It’s sort of a little cracky, but not really, I tried my best okay? I was inspired by a fic called “I have hella feelings for you” by MacksDramaticShenanigangs on AO3. It’s an evak fic and it’s really funny and angsty, it has it all, you should all go read it. She was inspired by one particular tumblr post which you can find here.

Okay anyway, enough from me, I hope you enjoy the story, I had certaintly had fun writing it and for my first try, I actually kind of like it. Apart from the title, please ignore the terrible title, I couldn’t come up with anything else.

Speechless

It was Lucas first real day at the University of Antwerp and also the day he saw him for the first time. The week prior had been solely for orientation and no real courses had started. It was just a way to show the freshmen how the Uni works and a chance for getting to know your fellow students. The group he was sorted into was full of other art students like him. There was one student though who he clicked with immediately. He had platinum white hair and always wore, as far as Lucas could tell, a black leather jacket and chunky Dr. Martens. Lucas and Sander discovered that they share a portraits class together and decided to meet in front of the building before classes would start.  

So that’s where Lucas found himself right now, in front of the art building, waiting for Sander with a coffee in his hand. He was feeling a mixture of excitement and regret. He was truly happy that he could finally begin his new life, to study what he loves and away from the controlling grasp of his father’s hand. But did he really have to pick his first class on a Monday at 8 o’clock in the fucking morning? His thoughts went back to his friends back in Utrecht and he decided to text them about his poor life choices, throwing in a miss u guys for good measure. Obviously there was no immediate response, as they probably were a bit smarter than to take 8 am classes. When he looked up from his phone he was greeted with the sight of Sander jogging up to him.

“Hey Lucas, I am so sorry I’m late. Did you wait here long? I’m sorry but Robbe was being his extra cuddly self this morning.” said Sander in a way of explaining that made Lucas think he was supposed to understand.  

Lucas was a bit confused by this statement as he had no clue who Robbe is. “No worries, I only got here 5 minutes ago. But let’s go inside, I don’t want to sit in the first row.”  

They found some free seats at the back of the classroom and while they were sitting down Lucas asked who Robbe is.

“Oh, yeah sorry, of course you wouldn't know. Robbe is my boyfriend, we just moved in together. Everything is still a bit stressful with unpacking and we are waiting for the kitchen to arrive, so he needed some morning cuddles.” While Sander was talking Lucas noticed how his voice filled with excitement and how his smile got considerably wider as he talked about his boyfriend.  

Lucas was kind of jealous. Not of Robbe of course. But he wished for that kind of intimacy and love in his life. He knew he was gay and there were a few hook ups here and there back in Utrecht but never anything serious and always hidden from the outside world. His friends and his mum knew but he wants to have a person that would make him happy and that he could show off with pride. He doesn’t want to hide anymore.

“The kitchen should be there by Wednesday, and we are planning on throwing a housewarming party on Friday. You should come. I’ll introduce you to Robbe, I’m sure you guys will get along great, I can feel it.” Sander was grinning as he said it and Lucas easily agreed.  

“Yeah sure, I would love to come. I’ve never been to a housewarming party, anything I should bring?” Before Sander could answer the professor walked in and the class started. Sander whispered: “We’ll talk later.”  

The next one and a half hours were filled with mostly boring organizational stuff and one homework assignment. The professor wanted to have an overview of his students’ skills. After class Sander had to rush to his next course and yelled over his shoulder as he ran the other way that he will text Lucas the address for the party and that he looks forward to introducing him to Robbe.  

Lucas waved him goodbye and headed to the campus cafeteria, he didn’t have time for breakfast this morning and just bought a quick coffee to feel more awake. On his way there a group of three boys caught his attention. Actually it would have been hard to overlook them as they were laughing loudly and gesturing wildly with their skateboards in their hands.

But one of them in particular made Lucas steal a second glance. He was tall, maybe even taller than Lucas, brown eyes, a jawline that could cut glass, a smile that made Lucas’s inside fill with butterflies and dark brown hair that looked so soft and fluffy that Lucas had the sudden urge to go over there and pull his hands through it.He wore a red sweater that looked like it experienced a lot of love throughout the years and loose hanging jeans.

Lucas stopped dead in his tracks as he stared at the beautiful stranger. He only vaguely noticed the other boys, one with blonde curly hair and the other with a red and black striped jacket. The boys continued talking and it looked like they were trying to convince Hot Guy to do something. He was vehemently shaking is head while laughing as the others were nodding their heads enthusiastically and making a look around you motion with their arms.  

Lucas noticed that he was still staring at Hot Guy and quickly snapped out of it, he didn’t want to be creepy. And he had places to be and was actually really hungry now. One last look at the boy with the most beautiful and kind looking eyes Lucas has ever seen and he would be on his way.  

Only now Lucas was directly looking into them. An expression came across Hot Guy’s face that looked pleasantly surprised and caught off guard at the same time. Hot Guy held his gaze for what felt like forever and Lucas knew he was doomed. He needed to get going or he would develop a useless crush on someone that was probably straight anyway. So he quickly looked away and continued down his path to the cafeteria trying to get those eyes out of his mind.  

He was nearly at the entrance when he felt someone tap on his shoulder. He turned around and was once again met with Hot Guy’s face. Only now up close he was even more beautiful than Lucas could have seen from afar. He didn’t know what to do as he kept staring up at him in shock. Turns out he actually is taller than Lucas, if only by a little bit.  

Before he had a chance to say anything though, Hot Guy just raised his hand in the universal sign of expecting a high five while lifting his eyebrows expectantly. Lucas was dumbfounded, stared at him for a while longer and then just raised his own hand to slap it against the strangers. Because what else are you supposed to do when the most beautiful boy you have ever seen just comes up to you and silently demands a high five.  

Lucas is still in shock but the moment he wants to pull his hand away Hot Guy links their fingers together, swings their now joined hands back and forth a few times and says:  

“Hi, I’m Jens. We’re dating now. Love you, babe!”  

Before Lucas had a chance to respond or to even fucking process what the hell just happened, Hot Guy winks at him, let’s go of his hand, puts his skateboard on the ground and skates back to the direction he came from.  

Lucas was speechless. Truly and utterly speechless. What the hell? He looked after Hot Guy, or Jens apparently, as he skated away so smoothly Lucas was a bit jealous of his skills. He turned a corner and Lucas couldn’t see him anymore. Still being in shock he began to shake himself out of his stupor. He started to laugh as he saw how ridiculous this whole situation was. A few faces turned his way while he just continued to silently shake his head in amusement and disbelief of what the hell just happened.  

He stood in front of the cafeteria a while longer still unable to process what that was until the growling of his stomach finally brought him back to reality. He went in, bought himself a croque and sat down near the window to look outside to the other students still mingling around the lawn. Another smile began to spread on his face as he began to recall the feeling of Jens holding his hand tightly in his own.  

This is ridiculous, Lucas thought. Don’t get attached, that was just a stupid joke, there is no way that Jens was actually interested in him. Still the situation made him smile and secretly there was a part of him that hoped he would see him again even if the rational part of his brain tried to drown out these thoughts. As he ate his croque Lucas was unable to stop smiling.

The following days were normal. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. He hadn’t seen Jens again and Lucas tried to forget the incident as well as he could. He had met with Sander once in a break between classes to eat lunch. As much as he tried to forget Jens, he found himself telling the story to Sander. He told him he saw him before he was approached by him and that he thought that he was beautiful. Sander smiled knowingly at him but didn’t say anything and let Lucas continue. Lucas finished with: “Well I know it was just a joke anyway and I know he wasn’t serious, how could he have been, he doesn’t know me.”

“That sounds like there should be a but somewhere.” Sander smirked at him. He has this expression as if he knew something Lucas didn’t.  

“No, there is no but. Sure, he was the most beautiful man I have ever seen, but it was a joke and I shouldn’t get my hopes up in ever seeing him again. This is a big campus with lots of students. I am sure he pulls stuff like this with a lot of other people.” Lucas tried hard not to sound jealous, because that would truly be a bit pathetic. Jealousy for hypothetical people? Get a grip, Lucas.  

“Well now I am just offended, what about me? I am clearly prettier than Jens.” Sander smiled teasingly at Lucas but something else caught his attention. “Wait, wait, wait, I didn’t say his name was Jens, Sander!” Lucas saw a flash of an “oh shit” expression cross Sander’s face and before Sander could say something back, Lucas nearly shouted in surprise: “You know Jens! Holy shit! How? Is he a friend of yours? Did he tell you about that already?” There were some more questions racing through his head right now but before he could utter them Sander stood up abruptly and mumbled an excuse of being late to meet with Robbe.  

“You can’t just drop a bomb like that and go Sander, who is he? I want to know him!” Lucas said in disbelief. But Sander was already on his way, at the exit he looked back at a still very much in shock Lucas and said: “I’ll text you the address for our party tomorrow. Who knows, maybe your mystery man will be there. Then you can ask him yourself.”  

And with that, Lucas was left speechless for the second time in just one week.  

His initial plan to forget about Jens turned out to be quite hard after Sander had accidentally revealed that he knew the person that had left him so amazed. With the connection to Sander, Lucas let himself hope that he would have a chance of getting to know Jens. The rational part of his brain told him that he shouldn’t go to that party, Jens will be there and Lucas will just embarrass himself in front of him with his obvious crush. But his heart told him to go and to take the chance. Even if Jens really was only joking and he wasn’t the least bit interested in Lucas, it was still a great opportunity to make new friends here in Antwerp and maybe even laugh with Jens about the whole situation. Without revealing Lucas giant crush of course.  

So, that’s how he found himself in front of an older looking apartment building looking for the doorbell of Driesen and Ijzermans being rather nervous. What if Jens was really there? Or worse, what if he wasn’t? He was just about to contemplate leaving when a girl with platinum blonde hair like Sander’s arrived at the door and asked: “Are you here for the housewarming party as well?” Lucas took that as his sign that he should just suck it up and give it a chance. He smiled at her and said: “Yes I am. I’m Lucas. I met Sander at orientation week and he invited me here.”

“Oh so you are an art student as well? I’m Zoe by the way.” She said it while she pressed the door bell and a few seconds later they were buzzed in. They held small talk in the elevator all the way up to the top floor. Zoe apparently was Robbe’s old roommate and they knew each other from school. She now also studies law at the University of Antwerp.  

When they arrived at the top floor the door to the flat was already open, signalling any visitors where the party was happening. They could hear the music and faint conversations from the hall. Zoe confidently entered the flat and was immediately greeted by a boy with brown, long, wavy hair, in clothes that were at least one size to big for him.  

“Robbe! It’s so nice to finally see you again, it’s been way to long.” Zoe exclaimed while she hugged him hello. Sander appeared behind Robbe and hugged Zoe as well once his boyfriend was done cuddling his old roommate. He noticed Lucas standing somewhat awkwardly at the side of the doorway and ushered him inside.  

“Hey Lucas, you came! I wasn’t sure if you really would after our last conversation.” At that Robbe looked a bit confused. Sander turned to him and just said with a certain conspirational and suggestive tone to his voice: “Robbe, that’s the Lucas, the one your best friend and I told you about.” At that Robbe’s confused expression turned into one of recognition and he hugged Lucas enthusiastically in greeting.  

“Oh Lucas, of course. I have heard so much about you.” Now it was Lucas turn to be confused, because he genuinely doesn’t have a clue as to why Robbe would be so excited to meet him. Also who is Robbe’s best friend, how does he know Lucas and why would he talk about him a lot? It doesn’t make any sense.  

He tried to shake himself out of his confusion, just greeted Robbe in return and told him that Sander basically never shuts up about him as well and that he feels like he knows him already. At the mention of Sander talking about Robbe, he just blushed and looked up into his boyfriends eyes. Sander leaned down and pressed a quick but firm kiss to Robbe’s lips and it seemed like Robbe needed a few seconds to come back to earth.

“Anyway, it’s really nice to finally have a face to put to that story. Make yourself comfortable, drink anything you want, beer is in the fridge and if you want to smoke we have balcony.” At the last part of the sentence Robbe wiggled his eyebrows suggestively making it clear that he did not talk about smoking cigarettes.  

Lucas laughed at that. “I do actually have some with me. I don’t trust you Belgians with something so precious as weed.”

As Robbe laughed Lucas noticed someone coming out of a room, stepping into the hall and he had to suck in a breath. It was him. Jens. Hot Guy. But not in his red sweater this time. He was dressed in a blue button down, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His rather loose hanging pants from the first time Lucas saw him were replaced with tighter black jeans and that just really wasn’t fair to Lucas. His hair though looked still as soft as Lucas remembered and he is again overcome with the urge to run his fingers through it.  

“Robbe, what is taking you so long? I thought we were gonna smoke.” Jens made his way over to them and Lucas tried to prepare himself as best as he could. But nothing could have prepared him for the glory that is Jens up close. He must have already drank a fair amount, his cheeks were flushed slightly red and when he saw Lucas he stopped dead in his tracks and swayed a little having to hold on onto the wall next to him.  

It seemed like Jens got his chill back rather quickly though. He threw his arms up around both Sander’s and Robbe’s shoulders, standing in the middle of them. He didn’t look at them but held Lucas gaze steady when he uttered the sentence that would leave Lucas speechless for the third time this week. All of these moments had something to do with Jens.  

“Robbe. Sander. Allow me to introduce you to my future boyfriend.”  

Lucas gaped at him, not really knowing what to say, while Sander and Robbe laughed at this ridiculous comment. But then Lucas saw an opportunity. Didn’t he say Jens and he were already dating? He looked up at Jens and tried to infuse his gaze with as much confidence and cheek as possible.  

“Future boyfriend? I thought we were already dating?” At that Jens’s smile grew wider and he stretched his hand towards Lucas and said: “I’m Jens.”  

Lucas smirked at him and took Jens’s hand in his for the second time this week. “I know. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t even know your name?”  

“Well, looks like our help is not needed here anymore. We’ll leave you to it.” Sander pulled Robbe and Zoe, who was still standing next to Lucas with an amused face, away from the doorway and further into the flat leaving Jens and Lucas alone in the hall, still holding each other’s hands.

They stared at each other for a few moments without saying anything. Lucas noticed that the blush was still present on Jens’ cheeks and a hoop earring that he hasn’t seen before, that somehow just made him even hotter. It was becoming a bit awkward just standing there, staring at each other but Lucas for the life of him did not want to stop. He scrambled his brain for something to say but was saved by Jens interrupting his thoughts.  

“I must say, you are at an unfair advantage. You are definitely the better boyfriend. I don’t even know your name.”  

Right, yeah. Lucas totally forgot to introduce himself. He felt like they knew each other already, it was really weird what Jens made him feel in these short interactions they had until now.  

“Well that’s just rude. You always go up to random boys, claim them as your boyfriend and forget to ask their names?” Lucas said instead of introducing himself. He had way too much fun with this situation. He was finally talking to Jens, he seems funny and if Lucas is reading the signs right he is even flirting with him a little bit.  

“You were not a random choice.” Jens mumbled under his breath and looked down at his hand. Lucas wasn’t quite sure if he heard that correctly.  

“What did you say?” Lucas asked but instead of answering Jens just pulled at his hand that he was still holding and led him into the flat. As he walked in front of Lucas with their joined hands he turned his head back over his shoulder to look at Lucas and asked: “Wanna smoke?”  

There really only was one simple answer to that question. “Sure” Lucas said with a grin on his face so wide it could split his face in half. Jens answering smile was just as wide and he pulled Lucas through the kitchen onto the balcony. Thankfully they were the only ones with this idea, as they were alone once again as they stepped into the cool night air. Lucas was not quite ready to share Jens yet. He wanted to get to know him more.  

“This is actually a little bit embarrassing, again. I didn’t bring any weed.” Jens looked at him sheepishly and Lucas had to laugh.  

“You invite me to smoke with you, without having anything on you? That was a great plan really, you really have thought this trough, haven’t you?”  

Jens tried to level him with a look that Lucas read as “I am not impressed” and Lucas just raised his eyebrows at him in return in a playfully mocking way.  

“Okay, yes, I admit, not one of my best moments. Maybe I just looked for an excuse to be alone with you some more, you are my boyfriend after all. I don’t like sharing you.” Lucas was truly baffled. How could Jens seem almost shy at one moment and then just say stuff like that with a confidence that Lucas wishes he had. Lucas just tried to keep up with the banter and not completely melt at the sight of Jens so close to him.  

“Oh you mean the boyfriend you still don’t know the name of?” Lucas said with a cheeky smile up at Jens.

“Because you won’t give it to me.” And that was just the perfect opportunity for Lucas to tease Jens even further.

“Woah, woah, woah, that’s moving a bit fast don’t you think? We haven’t even kissed yet.” Lucas can’t help the pleased smile as Jens is having a coughing fit and trying to control his breathing again. He didn’t know where his confidence was coming from but he liked that it seemed to have an effect on Jens. The blush that went away when they stepped onto the balcony is back at full force as he sputterd out incoherent sentences.

“That’s not what I… I just wanted… That came out so wrong! I mean not that I would mind if we did, you’re gorgeous. Oh god sorry I’m making you uncomfortable, you barely know me and I just…”  

Before Jens could continue though, Lucas decided to save him. “Jens, oh my god, shut up.” He laughed while he says it, took his hand in his again and introduced himself. “My name is Lucas. And I actually have some weed we could share. It’s better than your Belgian shit anyway.” Lucas got his already rolled joint out of his pocket, lit it up and took his first drag.  

At that, Jens seemed to return to his chill demeanour and relaxed his shoulders again. He huffed out a relieved laugh and said: “Come on, you probably haven’t even tried Belgian weed. Don’t knock it till you tried it. Next time, I’ll bring the weed. I promise.”  

“Next time?” Lucas couldn’t help but ask, as he really wanted to see Jens again after tonight. He handed the joint over to Jens and he didn’t make a great effort to avoid their fingers brushing over each other.  

Jens smiled at him in a way that can almost be described as fondly. He took a drag, exhaled the smoke, looked Lucas in the eye intently and said: “Yeah next time. You really expect to never see your boyfriend again?”  

Lucas laughed at that but it came out weak. He didn’t know if this is still just part of the joke for Jens or if there is a part of him that really wants to see Lucas again. He just had to ask.  

“Why did you do it?” He looked down at his hands, avoiding Jens’ gaze while he waited for the answer.He didn’t specify what he was talking about but Jens knew anyway.

“Honestly, it was a dare. My friends came up with it. I was supposed to go up to anyone, give them a high five and say that we are dating now and then just leave without saying anything else. I didn’t really wanna do it, but I thought the idea was funny.”  

Oh. Well, that definitely wasn’t the answer Lucas was hoping for. Part of him thought about this as well. That it was a prank would be the most logical explanation for it. But the other part of him had hoped that Jens did it because he was interested in Lucas.  

“Oh, okay.” Lucas didn’t know what else to say to that. He must have done a poor job of concealing the disappointment in his voice as Jens chuckled, lifted his finger to Lucas’ chin to make him look him into his eyes again. Lucas saw amusement there and maybe also a bit of hope.  

“But then I saw you.” Jens said in explanation as if this would clarify any of the insecurity in Lucas’ brain.  

“What do you mean?”  

“Well, I didn’t want to go up to just anyone and do what I did with you. I thought the idea was ridiculous and I would only embarrass myself. But then I saw you… and I don’t know. I wanted to talk to you. So I decided to suck it up and accepted the dare. It was just an excuse to hold your hand really.” Jens explained with a chuckle. He then looked into Lucas’ eyes with hope and an edge of vulnerability.

“Oh, okay.” This time it was not disappointment filling his voice but absolute wonder and amazement. He didn’t know what to say to Jens so he just continued to stare into those beautiful brown eyes. Jens’ hand was still under Lucas’ chin. When did their faces get so close? He saw how Jens’ gaze dropped down to Lucas lips and as if on instinct Lucas couldn’t help but pull them between his teeth to wet them. He inched his face closer to Jens, dropping his gaze to his mouth just as Jens looked up into his eyes again. The corner of Jens’ mouth curled up as he made the distance between their lips even smaller. Lucas could feel the other boy’s breath across his lips. They were only inches apart now and Lucas was desperate to know how those soft looking lips would feel on his own.  

The balcony door opened and two other boys Lucas didn’t know stepped on to it. Jens and he scrambled apart in shock and looked at each other sheepishly.  

“Hey, one of you have a lighter?” One of the boys asked. Lucas, glad for the distraction, gave his lighter to him so he could lit up his cigarette. He was still trying to process the intensity of the moment he and Jens just shared.

“Thanks, man. You planing on sharing this?” He asked with a smile and pointed to the joint still in Jens hand which wasn’t even lit anymore. Jens looked at Lucas for confirmation as it was his weed. Lucas just nodded and for the duration it took to smoke the rest of the joint he found himself trapped in awkward small talk with these two boys and Jens. He just wanted to be alone with Jens again and maybe finally find out what those lips feel like on his. But the moment was gone and Lucas couldn’t help but feel disappointed.  

When the boys stepped back inside, Jens and him followed them. But before Lucas could step back into the kitchen, Jens reached for his hand and linked their fingers together. Lucas looked up at him in surprise. Jens only shrugged with his shoulders and motioned for Lucas to follow him to the living room, where many people were already dancing.  

And so Lucas spend the rest of the evening dancing with Jens and talking to him and his friends on the couch when they needed a break. He found out that Jens is Robbe’s best friend and at that he leaned into Jens’ space and whispered in his ear: “So you talked to Robbe about me, huh?” Jens only blushed and pushed him away just to pull him close to his side again. He found out that Jens is studying music, has lived in Antwerp his whole life, that his baby sister is called Lotte and that he loves her a lot. He found out that Jens came out as bisexual in the last year of high school where he just kissed a boy in the middle of a party for everyone of his classmates to see. Everything he found out about Jens that evening made his crush on him grow even bigger. He wasn’t just the most beautiful boy he had ever seen, he was also funny, confident, loving and just the nicest person Lucas has ever met. During the evening they sat closer and closer together, Jens never let go of his hand and sometimes he would play with Lucas’ curls in a way that it seems he doesn’t even realize that he was doing it. Lucas loved these moments the most.  

When the party died down and it was time to leave, Jens insisted on walking Lucas home, even though it was only a fifteen minute walk.  

“You really don’t have to. I know the way.”  

“Do you though? You just moved here, I need to show you the way around the city.”  

And who was Lucas to say no to such an offer. The walk home was spend in comfortable silence. Here and there Jens pointed something out to Lucas, a great cafe at the corner or the best place for fries in the city. Lucas tried to remember these tips but it was currently hard for him to concentrate on anything other than the feeling of Jens’ hand in his.  

When they arrived at Lucas’ dorm building, Jens turned toward Lucas and just looked at him nervously.  

“I… I had a really great time tonight. God, that sounds so lame.” Lucas just laughed but before he could say anything in return Jens continued. “Okay just let me say this. I just… I just want you to know that… that it may have started as a joke, but I would really like to see you again and take you out on a real date. If that is something you would want, I mean. You don’t have to of course. I know I am not your boyfriend or anything, that was just a joke. And even if you were my boyfriend you are of course not forced to go anywhere with me and you don’t need to fee-”  

Lucas just couldn’t wait anymore. A rambling and nervous Jens is just about the most endearing thing Lucas has ever seen. He pushes himself on his tiptoes into Jens’ space and presses their lips together. His hands go up to Jens waist and stay there even when he pulls back. He looks up at Jens who still has his eyes closed and his mouth hangs open a little, as if he is waiting for another kiss.  

“I really want to see you again too.”

At that Jens opens his eyes, looks at Lucas in disbelief and awe, like he can’t believe his luck. He smiles and pull his bottom lip between his lips as he asks: “Yeah?”  

Lucas answering smile is just as dopey and wide and he can’t help but look at the way Jens bites his lips. He wants to kiss those lips again. “Yeah.” Lucas says with a definite and happy tone in his voice. He has never been more sure of anything in his life.  

“That’s really good. Not gonna lie, it would’ve really sucked for me if you didn’t want to see your boyfriend again.”  

Lucas laughed out loud and Jens looked at him in wonder. Lucas hands travelled from Jens’ waist up to his neck in an attempt to pull him in even closer. Jens came willingly and encircled Lucas’ back with his arms. This time it was Jens who closed the distance between them. He rested his forehead against Lucas’ and just breathed him in for a few seconds. The intensity of this moment threatening to overwhelm both of them, but then Jens leaned his head down to capture Lucas’ lips once more.  

As Jens’ lips glided smoothly across his own, as Jens hugged Lucas so tightly there wasn’t even an inch of space between them, as Jens let out a soft moan when Lucas bit his bottom lip gently, as Lucas was finally able to feel the soft curls of Jens’ hair between his fingers, that’s when Lucas decided that he would never want to stop kissing Jens.

[floralseokjin]

the fragmented journey of a permanently broken heart

min yoongi x reader angst 3760 words

⇶ chapter index

Four years after the break up 

 “Oh. Shit. I thought this was the bathroom—sorry.” Yoongi apologised, internally kicking himself. Of course he’d got the wrong damn room. And of course it was you he ran into. 

You lifted your head, from where you’d been stood near the bed, eyes a little wide from the shock of hearing his voice before you smiled softly and shook your head. “No worries.” 

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed as he really took a look at you now. You weren’t just standing absentmindedly, you’d been pacing. One hand pressing into the small of your back, the other cradling the bump that protruded from your stomach. 

“Hey. Are you okay?” He asked, tone coloured with concern. 

“Mmhm,” you nodded, but you couldn’t hide the wince on your face. Not from him anyway. 

“I’ll go and find Seokjin,” he replied immediately, turning to dart. 

“No, no,” you called after him. “Yoongi, it’s fine. I’m fine!” At the sound of his name from your mouth, he rooted to the ground. Slowly he turned back, still eyeing you cautiously. 

You sat down on the bottom of the bed, sounding mildly amused when you next spoke. “Trust Tae to organise a housewarming party two weeks before my due date.” Yoongi tried to laugh. It was just air exhaling from his nose. “I’ve been getting pains for a few days. Doctor just says it’s because I’m so close.” 

“Oh.” He said lamely. “That can’t be fun.” 

Fuck. What was wrong with him? Couldn’t he have a conversation like a normal human being? Not with you... He was on edge. Speech stunted and awkward. He knew you could sense it, but like you’d always done, you continued on cheerfully. Smile on your face. 

“It’s not. But I’ll take it over the looming childbirth,” you laughed.

Yoongi’s heart flipped upside down at the sound. For a moment it took him back to the past. He watched you as he made sure to laugh along too. Your hair was two shades lighter than the wedding. Than it had ever been before. He was annoyed at himself that he’d noticed such a thing. 

“Sorry. You wanted the bathroom? It’s the one next to this.” 

Yoongi focused back to your voice, to you, realising he’d lost himself a little there. You were watching him with a more serious face now. A sad one. 

“I..uh... Yeah, I’ll go. You probably came up here for some quiet time. My bad.” He turned to leave once more but you stopped him. 

“It’s fine. You can stay if you want to.” He rooted once again. “Unless you’re desperate,” you added. Yoongi genuinely did laugh at that. He wasn’t, no. In all honesty the bathroom had been an excuse for a break from all the interaction downstairs. He thought you knew that too. 

“Stay? Just for a bit,” you asked this time. “I only came in here for a breather.” 

Yoongi found himself stepping closer to you. Further away from his exit out. “Sure you don’t want me to get Seokjin?” He still couldn’t get used to saying the other man’s name. Not that he did very often. This time it popped up an image of you and him downstairs, his hand on your back, rubbing it affectionately as you spoke to another couple Taehyung had invited tonight. It made Yoongi’s heart a little heavy. Not unbearable. Not like in the past. But something was there. 

You shook your head. “He knows I’m up here. Sit,” you demanded playfully, tapping your hand on the mattress. 

He did so, unintentionally keeping his distance. Your perfume hit him like a train anyway. Was still the same brand from when you’d been together. That annoyed him too. To know he still remembered. 

“How are you?” You asked, a breeze to your voice that sounded a little forced. The history you shared still weighed heavily in the both of you. No matter how much time had passed. There were still so many things left unsaid. Yoongi suddenly had the urge to confess them all. 

You spoke again before he could open his mouth. “It’s been a while. I’m always wondering.. Tae gives me little updates when I ask but you know how he is.” You gave a small shrug, a grin playing on your face. 

Yoongi blinked, getting a hold of himself. There was no point raking up the past. Not now so much had changed. “I’m...good.” That word always sounded daunting to him. Like he’d curse himself if he used it. But maybe it was true this time. Life was good. “Started my own business. Did he tell you that?” 

You smiled and nodded. “I always knew you should go it alone. It’s amazing.” 

Yoongi chuckled. You sounded so pleased for him. It made him happy. Happier. It was true you’d planted the seed in his head about leaving the architecture company to go solo years ago. Only recently had he really listened. Too scared before. 

“How are you besides the...uh, pregnancy?” It was still so strange to think you were pregnant. Expecting a baby. He wasn’t going to lie, the news had blindsided him when he’d first heard it. Now it was just surreal. Even with you sat next to him, hand patting your bump. 

“Really anxious.” You tried to laugh, shaking your head. “Sorry. Ignore me.” 

“It’s alright. It’s a scary time I’m sure.” He reassured you softly. This time words came a little more easily. 

You smiled slightly in response. He hated that you were worried, wanted to say more, but hell, what did he know about pregnancy? Silence fell over you both after that. It wasn’t awkward by any means, strangely enough. It was actually pretty comforting. After all this time you were alone together again. Yoongi never thought he’d have this chance again. He really should say something. 

But you beat him to it. 

Glancing at him almost hesitantly, you parted your lips to speak. You weren’t as breezy as before, even though you tried. “I never got a chance to tell you how much I appreciated you coming to the wedding.” 

Yoongi raised both eyebrows in surprise. Appreciated? In his eyes he’d pretty much crashed the thing... Often he wished that he’d never even gone, yet in a way, that had been the real turning point for him. Watching you officially become someone else’s was like a punch to the gut, but it was also a reality check. 

“I know it sounds silly. Maybe selfish,” you continued, voice small, totally out of your comfort zone. “–but I really thought you hated me.” 

“Hated you?” Yoongi puzzled. He couldn’t understand. He’d rather be painfully in love with you for the rest of his life than ever hate you. 

“Things didn’t end well...” You tried to explain. That was an understatement. “I’m sorry for that. I just thought...” You broke off and sighed. “I don’t know. It’s in the past now but every time I see you I want to apologise–Not that I see you often.” 

Apologise? Ludicrous. You had nothing to be sorry about. Nothing was your fault. “I could never hate you. Don’t ever feel bad over what happened. What you did was the only option.” 

You looked at him sadly. It was like you were back in time. In the hallway of his place, breaking up. “I know. I just... It wasn’t supposed to end like that.” 

“It wasn’t.” He agreed. Now was his chance. To say everything he’d always wanted to. “I um...” His voice broke and he coughed to clear his throat. You waited patiently. “I have a lot of stuff I wished I’d told you. Just know, it wasn’t you. It was all me, and I wish...” He stopped himself. He wished what? That he’d been brave enough back then? Brave enough to let himself feel and just enjoy it. Because he had deserved it. He’d deserved you once upon a time, and then he’d fucked it up. 

He couldn’t unload all that onto you. Not when you were happily married, expecting a child... Not when he was... He shook his head, growing frustrated at himself. When that happened he clammed up. 

“Is there any point in raking this all up?” He anguished, fighting through it, looking across at you. 

Your eyes were glassy. He wasn’t imagining it. You smiled. Like you always did. Always smiling. That’s what he saw when he pictured you in his mind. “If it helps.” 

“You’re married for fuck sakes.” He hated swearing in front of you. Always had. You were the complete opposite of him in ways. “You’re having a baby. You don’t need to hear about my shortcomings.” 

His heart stopped when he felt your hand wrap around his. The tension stuck in his chest eased. “I’ll always listen. If it helps you.” There you went again. So selfless. “I don’t think we did much talking when we were together. Maybe we can start now?” You squeezed his hand supportively. “What do you want to say?” 

He stared into your eyes, searching for something. He found it instantly. You wanted this as much as him. Some type of closure. Even if it was years late, there was still an ache in each of your hearts. 

He took a deep breath, gearing himself up. He knew this would change nothing in the present but healing the past had to be done. He had come so far these past few months. He wasn’t a coward anymore. This could be his atonement. His resolution. 

“You were wrong.” He murmured. It was painful to talk at any other level. There was a beat of silence. “I did love you back then.” He needed to look you in the eyes. It wouldn’t be right if he didn’t. “I was so in love with you it physically hurt.” 

You exhaled, looking away, towards your lap, the shock sagging your shoulders, rendering you weak as his words took their time to sink in. You removed your hand from his. He was a little cold. “I...” 

He should apologise for throwing this at you, but he couldn’t stop. He needed to continue because now he was finally confessing everything he’d always wanted to. Everything he’d dreamed of in the darkest of nights. Only now the reality was much different. 

“I always hoped deep down you knew that. I’m not going to make excuses. I don’t think it could’ve ever worked out. I just... I loved you so much. Loved you for so long after.” 

A hand lifted to your mouth, teeth picking at the skin around your thumb. An anxious habit. “How long?” You whispered. 

“I was in love with you as I watched you walk down the aisle.” It was oddly freely to confess such a thing. His deepest of secrets, out in the open, as vulnerable as ever. Yet he didn’t care. “In some ways it was the first step to sorting my head out. I’d been living with it in the sand for so long.” 

Silence swooped over you again. Yoongi didn’t dare speak again. There wasn’t much more to say. For one horrifying moment, he was worried he’d imposed too harshly. Who was he to rock up here and just dump something so shocking on your shoulders? Taint your special day like that. Maybe he would never be able to handle his selfishness, but then maybe, just maybe, you didn’t see it like that. You were happy and in love, and nothing he could ever say would change that. He knew that. He didn’t want to change that. Not anymore. 

“I used to convince myself you were in love with me all the time.” Finally you spoke. It was meant for him, but not directed his way. You were staring unfocused at a painting on the wall. Hands now laced together, back sort of hunched. “I don’t know if I truly believed it. I just thought you weren’t the right guy to have something serious with. Some people aren’t, that’s okay.” 

It hurt to know you had never suspected a thing. He’d known it already, you’d said something similar the night you’d ended things, it just squeezed at his chest to hear it out loud. Again. 

“I needed to let you go though. I couldn’t carry on living like that.” 

“I’m sorry.” There was nothing much else he could say or do. He was sorry for everything. 

You finally turned to look at him again. That smile was back. Eyes shining with unshed tears. You shouldn’t cry over him. He wasn’t worth it. “Don’t be. Thank you for telling me, Yoongi.” He guessed in some ways, it relieved you. You hadn’t wasted near a year of your life on him. Not really. Your voice was thick with emotion. “All this time... I’m sorry. We should’ve talked more, I was just...scared.” 

For a moment that made him wonder. About what could’ve been. It wasn’t the first time. That much was obvious. But before those thoughts used to be dangerous. Wallowing in self pity. Now it was almost a sort of comfort. Somewhere, in an alternative life, you were together and happy. In love. Yes. Somewhere. 

It was his turn to reach for your hand now. He cherished the feeling. “I’m glad that you’re happy. Married, having a baby.” He meant every word. “You’ll be a wonderful mother, by the way. Don’t be worried,” he added with a chuckle. 

You tried to join him but sniffed. A single tear ran down your cheek. “I loved you so much, Yoongi.” His throat tightened. He’d never heard you say it like that. In fact, he’d never heard you say it at all. You’d never confessed out loud. Too afraid. Until the final night. “It took me by surprise. I know we were fast and short lived but I...” You stopped yourself, as if you were contemplating going through with whatever it was you wanted to say. You slid your hand from under his and caressed your bump. “I really thought this would be us one day. I thought you’d be the one I’d marry.” 

Yoongi felt sadness consume him whole for a split second, before he got a hold of himself. He let himself smile. It was okay to smile. “I would’ve loved that. In another lifetime.” 

That was enough for the both of you. No what ifs, past that. Just content. Despite everything, Yoongi wouldn’t change a thing. It wasn’t meant to be, but that didn’t mean he wanted to eradicate everything you’d once had. He knew you felt the same way too. Mistakes were made, but it was the here and now that mattered. That’s what you were living. What he was living. 

“You came with someone.” You said after a little while, breaking the comfortable silence. “Is this the same woman Taehyung told me about?” 

Yoongi found himself instantly smiling like an idiot. He couldn’t help it. “Jian? Yeah, that’s her.” 

You broke into your own grin as you noticed his reaction. “You’re happy. I like seeing that.”  

“I am.” 

You pointed your finger at him playfully. “Don’t mess it up.” 

“I...” His chest constricted a little. Panic settling in. “I don’t know if it’s anything serious.” 

“Stop. Don’t do that,” you whined a little. It was just like he remembered. “You really like her. I can tell. You have that big dopey smile on your face.” He couldn’t hide it if he tried. Just the thought of Jian made his cheeks ache. It was a feeling he’d thought he’d lost forever. But it came back more intense than ever. 

“Yoongi, just let yourself feel, mm?” You hummed. “I know it’s scary. To be vulnerable like that but don’t ruin something good. You deserve all the happiness in the world.” 

It had been scary. Was still scary even now. He’d spent so long after the wedding facing his issues head on. Trying to understand why he was the way he was, and how he could get better. How he could learn to love himself. It was a process, he was still going through it when he fell for Jian. 

He didn’t know when it happened. She started working at the company a while back. He saw her five days a week for nearly three years, but it wasn’t until he’d left and started his own business did he realise he’d missed her. It was an odd sensation. He tried to ignore it at first. Busying himself with work, but his mind always came back to her. Where it used to be you, it was her. You were a memory, but she was real. 

For the first time in his life, he went after something off his own will, and by some grace of god, she liked him back. Enough to say yes to a drink. Enough to start dating him. Enough to understand his weird ways. It had been nearly five months already. Time really flew. But he was trying. He was really trying to be a better person. To learn from his past mistakes. Learn from you. 

“It’s just strange...” Yoongi found himself admitting. “Feeling something for someone that isn’t you. Like I’m throwing away everything we had. Everything I‘ve been through.” 

Maybe that was what was holding him back this time? He couldn’t shake the feeling. Everything was for nothing. He was slowly coming to terms with it, understanding he wasn’t in love with you anymore, but being here tonight just emphasised how mind-boggling that was. You had been his life for so long, even long after you left it, yet now you were just someone from his past. An ex lover. A friend of some sort. He hoped he was your friend. 

“Do you want to know something?” You asked him. “I was wrong back then. I used to think we only had one soulmate. One person that we connected with and loved with all our heart.”

There was that word again. You had called him yours once upon a time. Called Seokjin it as you’d said yours vows at the alter. He remembered how much that had cut him up. You were supposed to be his soulmate. Now it was just a memory. 

“But there’s more than that,” you continued, “I don’t know how many. Maybe hundreds, thousands.” You giggled, finding yourself silly, and Yoongi laughed along. God, he had missed you. But not in the way he used to. It was more like realising how much you’d missed an old friend after seeing them for the first time in forever. It spread warmth around his heart, not an ache.

“Just remember, it doesn’t belittle other relationships we had in the past. It doesn’t eradicate what we once had. The good, the bad, the ugly.” Yoongi nodded in acknowledgment. He thought what you were saying made sense. “Just because I’m in love with Seokjin doesn’t mean I loved you any less. Doesn’t mean I was mistaken. Yes, maybe we could’ve been together forever. Happy. Married. Children... but it didn’t work out like that for us. That’s just the way life goes sometimes.” 

You finished with a little shrug, and Yoongi let himself imagine that reality. For one last time. You were right, life hadn’t worked out for you two like that. You reached for his hand again. “Don’t make the same mistakes twice, Yoongi. You’ll never forgive yourself.” 

“Thank you,” he smiled. 

“You’re welcome.” 

You were right. Up until now, he still had doubts about his new relationship. There were still a lot of things needed to be said and confirmed but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Not until now. He knew a part of him had been scared he’d see you tonight and instantly realise he was still head over heels in love with you. He didn’t want to break Jian’s heart. Not like he’d broken yours… But it was okay. He’d been worried for nothing. The sadness he sometimes felt was down to everything he’d left unsaid four years ago. It was funny it happened tonight of all nights. Of all places. Funny it had happened at all… But now admitting everything to you and closed the book. No. Closed the chapter. You were a chapter in his life; a very prominent and important one, and now you had both gotten what you’d needed. A resolution. 

Everything was not for nothing. It was a chance to change. 

He thought of Jian downstairs. Her beautiful face, smile, laughter. Alone and forced to mingle, probably wondering where he was, because he’d become overwhelmed and spinelessly escaped in need of the “bathroom.” It wasn’t her fault. People just kept asking questions. Who’s the lady? I didn’t know you were in a relationship, Yoongi? How long have you been together? In truth, he hadn’t even suggested they make it serious yet. He had never called her his girlfriend, yet he wanted to so bad. 

He needed to go find her so they could leave and he could ask her immediately. He felt the urge overcome him. He wanted to tell her a lot of things actually. About who he was. His hopes and dreams and fears... He wanted to tell her about you too. So she could understand that chapter in his life. She knew vaguely, but he’d never gone into detail. He wanted to let her in, like he’d let no one in before. She was special, and she was his. You were right, he couldn’t mess this up. Not when he’d come so far. 

“So, you sure you’re not going to give birth in the middle of Taehyung’s housewarming party?” He joked, looking over at you once again. 

You laughed loudly before sighing. “Lord. That would be a scene.” 

Conversation was coming to an end; you were parting ways. It was time to leave. Yoongi understood. He watched you rub your bump lovingly, corners of his mouth twitching up into a smile. You really would be the best mother. 

You glanced his way, catching him. “If I invite you to her christening will you come?”

“Of course.” 

His reply left him easily. Maybe now you could be in one another’s lives a little more. Admiration still strong, a love that had eased, yet the memory still flickered away happily in your hearts. It would never die, and for that he was thankful. 

You grinned, nudging him with your shoulder. “I’ll send you a plus one.” 

It was goodbye in one way, but hello in another. 

[stxphxn-strange]

Creating Chaos for the Right Reason | A Shrimp Gremlin Villain!Stephen ficlet

a/n: i finished writing this and decided to post it now that I’m back from hiatus! this is the direct sequel to Looking Forwards, Backwards, Now at You or whatever the prequel to the housewarming party series is called! Stephen basically goes out and puts some people in their place,, and continues the saga of trying to blend shrimp. Also i established that Stephen and Sam have a good rapport bc it’s my story i get to choose the friendships

SoHo, 5:13am

Shrimp Gremlin Lesson #1: Love is great motivation when appropriate. Don’t take this piece of advice out of context.

There was work to be done. Stephen didn’t want to do it, didn’t want to untangle himself from Tony who was finally asleep and at peace. It was probably selfish to leave his partner to wake up alone… but something had to be done and it was better if Tony didn’t know the specifics. He wasn’t opposed to the idea of Stephen getting into fights with some of his coworkers, but that didn’t thrill him either. He didn’t want to cause any conflict but he also never told Stephen *not* to cause a scene. To the Coconut Shrimp Gremlin there was never a bad time to cause a scene where love was involved, and Stephen’s mind was made up: it was time to open a can of whoop ass.

It was time to reluctantly get out of bed and open a can of whoop ass, and hopefully not take too long so that he could surprise Tony with breakfast in bed*. That was the plan. With the mental promise of bagels and relaxation before their housewarming party that night, Stephen reluctantly slid out of bed.

++++

The Avengers’ Compound (Upstate NY), 6:05am

Shrimp Gremlin Lesson #2: If you are going to find your fiancé’s trashy ex, spending forty (40) minutes on looks before you fight him is never a waste of time.

“Colonel Rhodes, if I bribe you with a bagel will you tell me where Rogers is?” Stephen asked.

“I don’t think I need a bribe,” Rhodey replied. “I had a feeling you’d show up sooner or later.”

“I skipped making my shrimp protein shake to get here early… and to avoid waking up Tony. I don’t think frozen shrimp are supposed to go in a Vitamix,” Stephen said. “Alas, here I am.”

Rhodey stared at him for a minute. “Maybe try a NutriBullet. Anyway, Steve is at the park, out for a run with Sam right now, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

Stephen nodded and opened a portal. “Thanks Rhodey.”

“If it wasn’t for Tony, I wouldn’t condone whatever you’re about to do,” Rhodey said. “Be careful.”

Stephen nodded and stepped through the portal just as Sam and Steve ran past. Jogging up to Sam, Stephen decided to run backwards and show off a little bit. “Wilson! Good morning.”

“Why are you jogging backwards?” Sam asked. “Should I have gotten you a treadmill with a backwards function as a housewarming present?”

“No… we already have a treadmill,” Stephen replied. “But a gift is required.”

“Don’t go to the party, Sam! He’ll torture you!” Steve “warned.”

Stephen scoffed. “It’s amusing how you can make little torture jokes, as if you didn’t just betray Tony so our mutual enemies would capture and torture him. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong, villain? Tony doesn’t want to be with you anymore because he sees you for what you are?” Steve asked. “Maybe he’ll come crawling back to me, even if I told him I could never love him after what he did.”

Stephen stopped running and flung an arm out to stop Steve and Sam. “Wilson, I need you to let me know when it’s 7:00. I’ll give you a bagel from a good deli in SoHo if you do me this favor.”

“Get an extra for Bucky and we have a deal,” Sam replied.

Stephen nodded, turning his attention to Steve. “Everything Tony did was self defense. You put him in a position where he’d get hurt, and you did so knowingly. I hate to leave him to wake up by himself, but someone had to kick your ass and that someone had to be me. I don’t want you in my house later, I don’t want you at my party but I’m still going to allow you to be in my presence. I won’t, however, let you even try to infringe upon my happiness. Do you understand?”

“Or what?” Steve asked.

“I don’t think you want to know,” Stephen replied. He didn’t want to waste his magic or energy on hurting Rogers, but he didn’t have to know what the sorcerer had planned. Plus, Stephen just found a manuscript of magical pranks that The Ancient One wrote in the 90s, and it was just waiting to be read.

“I don’t think Tony would like the fact that you’re willing to hurt me for him, he still cares about me,” Steve said, obviously trying to get a rise out of Stephen.

“Neither Tony nor I like the fact that you’ll throw him into harm's way for your own benefit. That’s not love—”

“And you know what love is?” Steve interrupted.

Sam, quite literally in the middle of them, was watching the confrontation like a daytime soap opera. The look on his face indicated a longing for popcorn and a cold beverage. He watched, with some trepidation, as Stephen opened his mouth to reply.

“I’m not perfect at love, but I’m trying my best. Do you think I don’t know all of the things you say about me? I don’t think I’m good enough for Tony either, and I tell myself that almost everyday. What’s just happened has made me unsure of myself and my ability to keep him safe, and even though I know how capable he is I just want to protect him from anything that can hurt him. That’s including you and me, by the way, but I’ll be damned if I don’t try to give him the world the way he does for me,” Stephen replied.

An awkward silence stretched out between the three of them, broken by Sam sniffling.

“That was… heartwarming,” he murmured, using Steve’s shirt as a tissue. “You seem like a good guy, Strange, albeit a little… strange.”

“No bagels for you!” Stephen teased. He sighed. “I’m going home. I don’t want to be around Rogers any longer than I have to, and more importantly I want to be with Tony. The dress for the party tonight is smart casual, by the way. Wilson, have FRIDAY order your bagels and breakfast for Rhodey, it’s on me.”

Steve was, blessedly, still silent as Stephen gracefully stepped through a portal into his apartment, a glimpse of Tony’s sleeping face obscured by the closing of the golden circle.

++++

SoHo, 6:42am

Shrimp Gremlin Lesson #3: You don’t have to love someone to feel whole, but the feeling of being loved is quite nice. Stan Tony Stark.

Stephen’s plan was to re-enter quietly and read until Tony woke up, but he blew it by stubbing his toe on the corner of the bed and cursing colorfully.

“What are you doing Steph?” Tony asked sleepily, his head resting against Stephen’s shrimp plush/pillow.

“I stubbed my toe,” Stephen muttered, sitting on the edge of the bed. “How did you sleep?”

“Surprisingly well,” Tony replied, sitting up and snuggling into Stephen’s arms. “What are you up to? Did you try to put shrimp in the blender again?”

“No… but earlier Rhodey suggested a NutriBullet might be the optimal blender for a shrimp protein shake,” Stephen said.

“I’m just going to gloss over the fact that he’s wrong about that for a minute. Did you go upstate?” Tony asked.

Stephen nodded sheepishly. “There were just some things I wanted certain coworkers of yours to know before the party tonight, that’s all. No one got hurt… unless you count Steve’s pride and an under armor workout shirt which Sam used as a tissue.”

“I’m not going to ask about that right now,” Tony muttered. “It’s too early.”

He flopped onto his back again, settling into the nest of pillows on the bed. Stephen quickly changed back into pjs and joined him, pulling Tony close and playing with his hair.

Tony yawned, pressing his head against Stephen’s chest to listen to his heart. “Your heartbeat is good music to sleep to,” he murmured.

Stephen blushed. “You say the sweetest, most nonsensical shit when you’re falling asleep. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Tony replied, tracing a heart on Stephen’s cheek. “You know I love you and trust you with everything that I am and have, right?”

Stephen nodded, even as the motion was a bit awkward with Tony’s hand on his face. His eyes were watering up and he gave Tony a soft kiss. “Yeah, I do.”

“Good,” Tony said, smiling and snuggling closer to Stephen. “One last thing before I go back to sleep: shrimp is not meant to be blended.”

“Says who?” Stephen retorted, giggling to himself. “You’re probably right though.”

“I’m always right,” Tony whispered. “Now shh, I need my beauty rest before the party tonight.”

Stephen smirked. He was about to say something about Tony inventing beauty, but a soft snore indicated that he was gone already and wouldn’t hear it. Not to worry, Stephen planned on shamelessly telling Tony that as soon as they woke up later.

Tags: @stark-strange-love @chocopiggy @dinodaddy65 @ayyy-its-an-idiot

https://ironic-iconic-strange.tumblr.com/post/618044046100873216/looking-forwards-backwards-and-now-at-you-a (read looking forwards, backwards, and now at you here^)

[kdreamscenario]

V Diary: J-Hope Log IV

Diary of Hoseok AU

Rated: M smut

Word Count: 1302

Log 27

Blood, Sweat, and Tears is ready to go!  MV shooting was long but it’s gonna look awesome!  I can’t wait for the release.  We all worked so hard on our solo tracks for this album.  

Yesterday and today we got to relax a bit.  We got an awesome surprise yesterday morning.  Y/N got moved into a new apartment of her own.  The Big Hit management figured out that we’re finding it hard to get alone time with her.  They mentioned some of us are doing things at the company building.  That was a surprise to me.  I thought for sure it was just me, Tae, and Jimin doing things with her.  So obviously I thought it must be them messing around at the company.  Sejin hyung was looking around equally at us and Jin hyung’s ears were red like when he’s embarrassed.  Tae look annoyed when I gave him a look.  

Anyway, I suggested that we throw Y/N a housewarming party to celebrate.  Lately I’ve been feeling like a bad role model to Taehyung. It’s not right that we’re always fighting over Y/N.  I can tell it puts stress on the group that’s unnecessary.  I asked him to come with me to pick up the party supplies.  We had a good chat about the situation and I really feel like things will settle.  He has genuine feelings for her that he says he’s trying to stop.  I think I like her quite a bit as well but I know it can’t happen.  The contract she has with us doesn’t have room for feelings.  That’s not at all what she was hired for.  

The night all together was fun.  Y/N sat between me and Tae.  I didn’t feel weird about it at all.  When Namjoon started to round us up to go home I didn’t want to go.  I mentioned that Y/N felt lonely and that someone should stay the night.  I swear I mostly meant just sleeping over but of course they all thought something dirty.  Namjoon came up with a good system that we rotate on our off days who stays the night.  I think that’s a good fair way to make sure we all get some alone time with her if we want.  

I got first night duty since it was my idea.  Tae didn’t seem to mind.  The guys helped clean up the room then left Y/N and I alone for the night.  We took turns washing up for bed.  I didn’t have any pajamas with me so I figured I could just sleep in my shirt and boxers.  I came into to Y/N’s room and she was in bed checking her phone.  I asked her if she wanted me to sleep on the couch as a gentleman.  She just laughed and told me to come to bed.  There was no reason to dance around what I really wanted.  

Wow I was so nervous all of a sudden.  This was really it.  The first time for me getting in bed with a girl.  I feel stupid for it now, but I still played like I wasn’t expecting anything.  I just got into bed with a respectable distance.  She looked at me for a minute then asked if I wanted the light off.  I said sure.  She played along, turned off the light, and got settled on her side of the bed.  

I said goodnight and she replied in a questioning way.  She asked if I was really going to sleep.  I said we can if she wanted to.  She just laughed and rolled closer.  My eyes were barely adjusting to the dark that I saw her face just before she leaned in to kiss me.  It was a short peck then she said “I don’t think either of us want to go to bed.”  I couldn’t deny that.

In a surge of courage I rolled her onto her back to lay over her.  It started with a hurried make-out.  I should have tried my best to take this whole thing slow and make her feel good.  I was just too excited.  She let me touch her all over while we kissed.  She’s so soft in all the right places.

She tugged on the hem of my shirt to move on.  We were quick in shedding all our clothes.  I wished I’d left the lights on.  I could see her but I wanted to really see her.  We went back to kissing a little longer.  I enjoyed feeling all of her bare skin even more.  She reached lower and started stroking me.  I tried to reciprocate with fingering her.  I definitely need more practice with that.  

Must not have been too bad though.  She got so much wetter from playing with her.  It is such an amazing feeling.  I couldn’t wait to feel that wrapped around me.  I stilled her hand that was stroking me and asked if she wanted me to put it in.  She spoke a soft yes and made room for me to get between her legs.

Quick as anything she whipped a condom out of her nightstand drawer.  She really is prepared for us.  In the dark it took me an embarrassingly long time to get the stupid thing on.  Then settled again between her legs it took me a few good test strokes to get it in.  First time sex in the dark is not the way to go.  Man that first full stroke felt even better than I imagined.  Not to sound weird, but it feels so right like your dick really belongs there.  

I think every guy thinks he’s not going to be a quick shot on his first time.  You can’t expect just how good it feels and you completely lose yourself.  It’s like I had no control over my hips chasing that feeling.  The first time is just letting your instincts take over.  I couldn’t have lasted more than 5 or 10 minutes before I was coming.  Stars burst behind my closed eyelids in the dark and I could hardly control each jerk and convulsion I felt.

Y/N is so sweet.  Once I was finally coming back to my senses she kissed my cheek and smiled.  I pulled out carefully and tried my best to tie up the condom, get it wrapped in some tissues, and tossed in the garbage.  Y/N was grabbing more tissues to clean herself up but I stopped her.  I’m way behind on the orgasms that I owe her now.  I pulled her legs back apart and settled between them.

Y/N tried to say I didn’t have to do this but I wanted to.  Honestly I finished a little faster than I’d wanted to so this was something else I wanted to do with her.  I started licking broad stripes over her pussy and put two fingers back inside.  I told her to direct me to what she likes and how I can help her.  

With her fingers threaded in my hair she guided me to making her come.  Obviously it took much longer than me but it was fun.  Not to mention it was freaking hot to have her finish on my tongue like that.  I ended up getting hard again so we went for round two.  Much more successful for us both this time.  She said it feels the best to get fucked right after an orgasm.  

After that we both passed out pretty fast.  It’s so nice to sleep naked with a girl wrapped in your arms.  Even better is getting a third round of great sex first thing in the morning.  I think I could really get used to that.  The next day off is for my turn is way too far away.

[flowerfan2]

Bound To Be Together - Ch. 25

This is it - the final chapter in my episode coda series, and the fix-it to 9.25.  Hope you all enjoy it!

McDanno, E, A03 (Read from the beginning here)

A continuous story of Season 9 codas exploring the bond between Steve and Danny as they grow even closer.

Chapter 25: 9.25

Danny paces back and forth in the waiting room, feeling like he can barely catch his breath.  Steve had been whisked away to surgery hours ago, and Danny still hasn’t been able to talk to him.  He still doesn’t know for sure if he’ll ever be able to talk to him again.  When Steve was shot he went down so hard, and there was so much blood… Danny doesn’t want there to be a limit to how many times Steve can defy death, but even cats only have nine lives.

“Coffee?”  Tani appears in front of him, holding a steaming paper cup.  She and Junior showed up at the hospital just a little while ago, both of them looking almost as wrecked as he feels.  

Danny isn’t interested in coffee, though.  Doesn’t think he could hold the cup without spilling it.  Caffeine isn’t going to help Danny now.  Nothing is, except Steve waking up and giving him a chance to explain himself.

Danny Williams has fucked up many times in his life.  He is sadly familiar with the cold sweats, the wave of shame, the urge to hide under a rock and never come out.  But this time he’s outdone himself.   

 “Hey, it’s gonna be okay.”

 Danny blinks, realizing that he’s sitting on the floor, Tani crouching down next to him.  She puts a hand on his shoulder, barely flinching at the blood stains on his shirt.  Steve’s blood.

 “I don’t think it is,” Danny chokes out, hardly able to bear the kind look in Tani’s eyes.  He sinks his forehead to his knees and covers his head with his arms.  

 “Come on, you said it yourself.”  Tani gives his shoulder a squeeze.  “This is what they do.  And they always make it out the other side.”

 “You don’t understand.”

 “So fill me in.  We’ve got time.”  Tani shifts, settling herself next to Danny on the floor.  “Take a few deep breaths, okay, and then tell me what happened.”

 Danny breathes into the space between his knees, feeling his heart continue to pound a broken rhythm against his chest.  It reminds him of how he felt when that building collapsed on top of him, years ago. Except that time Steve was with him, holding his hand.  Making sure he made it out the other side.  

 Now he’s in a crowded hospital waiting room, surrounded by all of Five-0 except the person that matters most to him.  

 “You don’t wanna hear this.”

 “Try me.”

 Danny sighs.  He pretty much feels like he’s going to fall apart anyway, telling Tani can’t possibly make it worse.  “Just before Omar Hassan’s wife came in, I told Steve I lied to him about last week.  Told him I wasn’t in New Jersey, that I was with Rachel on Kauai instead.”

 Danny hears Tani suck in a breath, but before she can launch into him, Lou responds incredulously.

 “That’s bullshit.  I know you were in Jersey.  You’ve been talking nonstop about that Mets game you went to with your sister.  Even posted dumb pictures on Facebook.”

 “I know,” Danny says.

 “Wait, I’m confused,” Jerry says, pulling a chair over with a squeak.  “Were you in Jersey or not?”

 “I was, of course I was,” Danny says.  “Helping my folks move into a smaller place, just like I said.  I was just screwing with Steve, like I always do.  He does the same – hell, in the car earlier, he was giving me shit about that NSA woman he flirted with a few months ago.  And he’s always bringing up Catherine.  It’s what we do.”

 “You told him you spent a week on Kauai with Rachel, but you were just screwing with him?”  Lou asks, still obviously not convinced that Danny hasn’t lost his mind.

 “Not my best moment,” Danny confirms.  “But we weren’t done talking – we were in the middle of the conversation.   I could barely keep a straight face as it was, the joke would have been over in another ten seconds.  Azra Hassan interrupted me – if she hadn’t come in, this never would have happened.”

 He lifts his head and looks up at his team, who stare back at him with various degrees of disapproval.

 “Man, you really stepped in it this time,” Lou finally says, and Danny nods.

 “Yeah, I did.”

 Another hour goes by. Adam convinces Danny to get up off the floor, and they walk down the hall to the vending machine together. There’s something different about Adam lately, something hopeful, and Danny’s glad for him.

 Back in the waiting room, Tani pats a plastic chair next to her and he sits down between her and Lou. He offers Tani some of the candy bar Adam bought him.

 “Thanks,” Tani says, holding his hand steady while she takes a bite.  “You know,” she says, wiping a crumb off her mouth, “you really are kind of a dumbass.”

 Danny huffs out a bitter laugh.  “I’ve been told that before.”

 “Steve’s gonna be fine,” she says.  “And you guys are gonna be fine.  What you’ve got together is too good for this to throw it off course.”

 Danny stares at her then, and something must show in his face, because Tani gives him a soft smile he’s never seen before.  

 “Fuck,” Danny says.  “Did… did I just out us… Steve… to the entire team?”

 “We knew, Danny,” Tani says gently.  “We’ve known for a long time.”

 “Definitely,” Lou says. “That day taking prom pictures? Come on.”

 “My housewarming party,” Adam says, “that’s when I knew for sure.”

 Junior shakes his head. “I think it was even earlier.  Steve stays over your house all the time, it’s not exactly a secret.”

 “I knew something was up last fall.” Tani says.  “When Danny was away, and Steve brought in that giant box of coco puffs from Liliha’s, ‘cause he didn’t realize Danny was gone, and then he was so upset when he found out he moped like a middle school kid all week.”  

 “No, that was before Joe White was killed, wasn’t it?  Didn’t seem like you were together then,” Adam says.

 “Oh, yeah, it did,” Junior insists.  “You weren’t there when Danny showed up, but I was.  You should have seen the way-”

 “Okay, that’s enough,” Danny says, standing up, his face hot with embarrassment.  His team’s casual recital of everything he and Steve have been through for the past year isn’t making him feel any better, it’s just pointing out how much he has to lose.

 “Excuse me, Five-0?” It’s a little ridiculous how well all the hospital staff know them.  “I have an update on Commander McGarrett?”  

 They all turn, and Danny holds his breath as he waits for the doctor to continue.

 “How is he, doc?”  Lou asks.

 “He’s going to be fine,” the doctor says, and Danny feels a surge of relief so strong it almost knocks him over.  “He lost a lot of blood, and we were worried that he hit his head pretty hard on the way down, but the bullet missed all major organs.”

 “Can I see him?” Danny pushes forward, but the doctor steps back and holds out a hand.  

 “We’re moving him to a room, and then one of you can come in.”

 Danny nods, but the doctor continues, looking at Danny apologetically.  “He asked to see Captain Grover.  I’m sorry, Lieutenant.”

 “That’s okay, Danny can go-”

 “I’m afraid that’s not what I meant,” the doctor says.  He waits for Lou to acknowledge this.  “Someone will be back to let you know when he’s ready.”

 Danny sags against the wall. “He doesn’t want to see me.  He’s barely out of surgery, and the first thing he remembers is that I lied to him.”

 “But you didn’t,” Tani insists.

 “He thinks I did.  He almost died, and he thinks I betrayed him.”

 *****

Lou only spends a few minutes with Steve before the nurse kicks him out.  He fills the team in on Steve’s medical situation (he’s going to be stuck in the hospital for at least a few days, but he’ll make a full recovery) and tells them all to go home.  

 Lou stays behind, clearly anticipating that Danny wants to know more than he’s told the rest of the team.

 “What did he say?  Why can’t I see him?”

 Lou leans against the back of a chair, looking uncomfortable.  “I told him you were here, and that you were worried.  But I didn’t plead your case for you.  You’re going to have to do that yourself.”

 “What the hell?” Danny snaps, anger getting the best of him.  “You didn’t tell him anything?  That I wasn’t with Rachel?”

 “Actually, I tried. Against my better judgment.  But he wouldn’t listen, just waved his hand in my face and said he wanted to sleep.  And then the nurse kicked me out.”

 “This is not fair,” Danny says, looking around for someone else to complain to.  “Why – why won’t he listen?  Why won’t he let me talk to him?”

 “Give him some time, Danny,” Lou says.  “He’s had a rough day.”

 “A rough day,” Danny says, his throat catching.  “Yeah, that about sums it up.  Fuck.”

 Lou eventually goes home to shower and get some sleep, but Danny stays in the waiting room.  Jerry returns to sit with him for a while, and tries to cajole the nurses into letting him see Steve – he promises to put in a good word for Danny -  but apparently they want him to have “uninterrupted rest.”  Danny has the feeling this is actually at Steve’s request, to avoid having to deal with Danny, but there’s not much he can do about it.

 Later Tani and Junior come by, and Junior’s brought him a t-shirt and jeans.  His own.

 “How’d you get these?”

 Junior rubs his face. “I knew you’d ask that.”

 “The ‘Danny drawer,’ where else,” Tani says, smirking.

 “At Steve’s place?”

 “Well, my first thought was to get clothes from your house – we could use the key that Steve keeps in that bowl by the front door?  But Junes knew where to find your stuff at Steve’s, so that saved us a stop.”

 “How did you know I had clothes there?”

 “Junes does Steve’s laundry when he’s feeling particularly dutiful - didn’t Steve tell you?”

 Danny sighs.  Clearly he’s not the detective he used to be. Junior is a lot more observant than Danny has given him credit for, and Tani, well, Tani’s a force to be reckoned with.

 “It’s cool,” Junior says, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.  “I don’t mind doing laundry.  I like the routine.”

 Danny tries not to imagine Junior folding his boxers.  “I can’t believe this.”

 He does feel better when he’s changed into clean clothes.  There’s nothing like wearing a shirt with your partner’s blood on it to bring down your mood.  The t-shirt Junior brought is one of his favorite black ones, and it’s soft on his skin. He keeps it at Steve’s on purpose. Steve likes him in it.  And out of it.

 When Noelani comes to check on Steve (and Danny) later that day, after her shift, Danny gets an idea.

 “Can I borrow your jacket?” Sometimes being a relatively small guy comes in handy.  

 With Noelani’s white coat on and a confident stride, Danny passes for a doctor long enough to sneak into Steve’s room.

 Steve is lying on his side, facing away from the door.  He turns as Danny enters the room, and Danny’s heart skips a beat.  Steve’s got a bandage on his head, and a bruise running down the side of his face.  But the worst part is the defeated look in his eyes.

 “What are you doing here?” Steve says, his voice scratchy.

 “Steve, for god’s sake, I’ve been dying to see you.”  Danny rushes over, reaching for Steve.  He completely forgets about anything except getting him in his arms.

 But Steve flinches, and Danny freezes, then pulls his hands back to his sides.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

 “Go away, Danny.”

 “Steve, you have to let me explain.  I wasn’t with her, I was just kidding around, I would never-”

 “Nurse!  Security! Help!”  Steve yells, and Danny is hustled out of the room before he can continue. The bastard, he thinks.  He’s just being childish.  And he’s managed to get Danny thrown out of the hospital for the remainder of Steve’s stay.

 With no other options left, Danny goes home.  

 A few days later, Steve gets released.  He’s not supposed to go back to work yet, but he’s recovered enough to go home.  Danny and Junior drive to the hospital in Steve’s truck, Tani following behind.

 “You sure you want to do this?”  Junior asks.

 “I’m sure.”  

 Junior goes inside and comes back out with Steve a few minutes later, while Danny waits in the car with Tani, slouched down and out of sight.    After Junior gets Steve settled into the passenger seat of the truck, he and Danny switch spots.

 Steve glares at Danny as Danny starts up the truck.  “Fuck off.”

 “No.”

 And that’s it, for almost the entire drive back to Steve’s place.  Danny has spent the past few days swinging back and forth between despair and fury, and right now, Steve’s refusal to talk to him is pushing all his fury buttons.  But he knows the mess between them is his fault, and he’s not going to let Steve ruin this.  Not if he can help it.

 So he sits there next to Steve, and drives his car, and brings him home.  Because that’s what partners do.  And that’s what <i>partners</i> do, even if they’re mad at each other.

 As they approach Steve’s house, Danny bites his lip, takes a breath, and speaks.  “I love you, you know.”

 Steve doesn’t answer.

 When they pull into the driveway, Steve jumps out before they come to a full stop.  He’s inside his house with the door slamming shut behind him before Danny turns off the truck.  As he watches Steve sprint up the walkway, he can’t help but be impressed – Steve’s physical injuries sure aren’t slowing him down.

 Over the next few days, Steve keeps up the silent treatment.  He doesn’t return Danny’s calls.  Grace informs Danny that Steve is answering her texts, but only if she talks about things other than Danny.  Tani tries to get Steve to talk to him, but when it doesn’t result in any progress, she just shrugs.  “Boys are dumb,” she announces, taking the last malasada out of the box Danny brought in for the team.  “I can only do so much.”

 A week after Steve was shot, Danny decides he needs to try another approach.  He does a little research, and makes a call.

    *****

The cove is beautiful. There are palm trees lining a gentle curve of beach, and one of the smaller Hawaiian islands is off the coast in the distance.  Danny fidgets as he waits.  He’s dressed the part, he hopes, with a white on white Aloha shirt and khaki slacks. He’s even wearing flip-flops, the kind Steve thinks are dressy, with braided leather straps.

 He hears Frank and Steve talking before he sees them.  Frank is excited about his new project, and had jumped at the chance to show it off to Steve – and try to help Danny out, too.  “Happy to help, sunshine,” Frank had said over the phone, and then explained how Danny could pay him back in beer.

 “The arch will go over here, with the chairs behind it, facing out to the ocean,” Frank says, his voice getting louder as they approach.  “I’ll build a hut, too, for the reception, all open air.  And open bar.”

 They come around the bend, Frank still talking, Steve looking around obligingly.  When Steve sees Danny, his eyes widen, and he comes to an abrupt stop.

 Frank looks at the two of them, pats Steve on the shoulder, and leaves, going back the way they came.

 “Danny,” Steve says, staring him down.  “What’s going on?”

 Danny swallows hard, and walks over to Steve.  At least he isn’t running away, Danny thinks.  “I wanted to talk to you.”

 “You couldn’t have done that somewhere else?”

 “I wanted to talk to you here,” Danny says.  He waves his hand at the clearing, which will someday host happy couples on their special day.  “I always imagined we’d end up at a place like this.  Eventually.  If things worked out.”

 Steve lifts his chin, looks away.  “Yeah, too bad that’s off the table.”

 Steve’s reaction stings, but Danny knows him.  It’s not over yet, and Danny has hardly gotten started.

 “Steve, please.  Stop being so stubborn and just listen to me for a minute.”

 Steve frowns, but after a long moment, he turns back to Danny.  “I’m listening.”

 Here goes, Danny thinks. He rehearsed what he wanted to say a dozen times, but he’s still not sure he’s going to get it all out.

 “I’m a changed man,” he starts, and he sees Steve’s eyes flit over his outfit.  Not just my clothing, you dope, he wants to say, but refrains.  “I’m a changed man, a better man, since I met you.  Not just since I met you, but… because you love me.  Because I love you.”

 Steve’s face softens for a moment, but then his jaw clenches again.  Danny can tell he’s about to lose him, and he rushes to get to the point.

 “I’ve gotten more positive, even if not everyone sees it.  I’ve opened myself up to the possibility of good things in my life.  Good things happening with you, in particular. But no matter what I thought before, I realize now, it wasn’t enough.  I didn’t change enough.”

 This gets Steve’s attention, and his eyes finally meet Danny’s.

 “I crossed a line, last week,” Danny continues, his eyes starting to tear up.  “I went too far.  And I’m sorry.”

 Steve steps back, still holding Danny’s gaze.  “Danny, you really hurt me.”

 “I know, babe.” It slips out, Danny can’t help it, and he moves forward and grabs Steve’s arms, hands squeezing his biceps tight.  “I know, I’m so sorry.  I screwed up. I’m so sorry.”

 “I believed you.” Steve’s voice is small, barely audible over the sound of the breeze in the palms.  “I didn’t want to, I knew it didn’t make sense, but for a few seconds there, I believed that you went away with Rachel.  That you lied to me, and cheated on me, and…”  Steve ducks his head down, but he doesn’t pull away.  “It really hurt.”

 Danny doesn’t doubt it, he can feel the ache in Steve’s chest just like the one in his own.  “I shouldn’t have joked about that,” Danny says, inching closer to Steve and sliding his hands up to his shoulders, pressing his collarbone with his thumbs.  “We kid around about almost everything, but I knew how you worried about me and Rachel.  I should have known it wouldn’t be a joke to you.  I went too far.  I’m sorry.”

 Steve looks at Danny, and his eyes are wet.  “I got shot. And you weren’t there.”

 Danny tilts his head, confused.  “I was there, I was right there.  Lou tackled Azra, Adam grabbed the kid, and I was next to you in seconds. I used the hem of my shirt to put pressure on your wound, I had your head in my lap-”  Danny’s voice breaks.  He can taste how terrified he was, when Steve didn’t respond.  He shudders, remembering all too clearly.

 “But you were with Rachel. In my mind.  And…  that’s what I thought, at the hospital, when I woke up.”

 “Is that why you wouldn’t let me come see you?”  It’s exactly what Danny feared – that given the drugs and the shock, all Steve would remember would be their last conversation.

 “At first.  And then,” Steve pauses, his tone shifting to something like embarrassment, “I was just pissed.”

 And hurt, Danny fills in. Really fucking hurt.

 “I’m so sorry,” Danny says again.  He’ll say it as many times as it takes.

 Steve sniffles, and then his arms are around Danny, pulling him close.  “I don’t like fighting with you.”

 “I don’t like fighting with you either,” Danny chokes out, digging his face into Steve’s neck.  He rubs his nose against Steve’s sweaty throat, feeling his stubble scratch over his skin.  “Please say we won’t fight anymore.”

 Steve makes a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a cry.  “I don’t think I can make that promise.”

 Danny laughs with him, snorting wetly into Steve’s shirt, and clutching him tight.  He feels lightheaded, almost giddy.  They’re going to be okay.  They’re really going to be okay.

 “Making me come out here with Frank was a dirty trick, you know,” Steve says, his hand sliding up into Danny’s hair.  “The whole time, I kept picturing you and me getting hitched on the beach, Gracie at your side, Mary at mine, Joanie and Charlie with flowers and rings.”

 “Really?”  The image had of course occurred to Danny too, he’s already admitted it, but he hadn’t begun to hope that Steve was on the same page.

 “Really.”

 “That’s, um, that’s good. That’s very good.”  Freakin’ understatement of the year, it’s so good.

 Steve laughs, more relaxed now, and he pulls back to find Danny’s eyes.  “Figured you’d think so.”  He looks Danny up and down.  “Nice outfit. Coincidence?”

 “Yeah, this vintage Aloha wedding shirt was just lying there at the top of my clean laundry basket, total luck of the draw.”  Danny raises an eyebrow.  “Hey, by the way, could you maybe have mentioned that Junior does your laundry?”

 Steve squints at him, and then apparently puts two and two together.  “Guess that might have given us away?”

 “Depends, I suppose, on whether he was fooled into thinking that you had secretly taken to wearing striped dress shirts in my size.”

 “And black t-shirts.”

 “That’s not completely beyond the realm of possibility,” Danny muses.  “You look hot in black.”

 “So do you,” Steve says, and then, unexpectedly, blushes.  “I like you in white, too.”  Steve leans in and kisses Danny, his mouth soft and gentle, and Danny melts against him.

 “Oh, babe, thank god,” Danny whispers against Steve’s lips, and Steve hums in agreement before ducking down to kiss him again, another gentle press, and another, until Danny is practically shaking with the force of his tenderness.

 “I don’t want to lose you, Danny,” Steve murmurs, kissing Danny’s cheek and down his jaw.  “Don’t even tease about it, okay?  Anything else is fair game, but not that.”

 “Okay, yes, absolutely. Lesson learned.  I’m so fucking sorry-”

 Steve cuts him off with a kiss that is significantly more heated, his tongue darting inside Danny’s mouth, pressing hard enough that their teeth clack together, then stopping for his own apology.   “I’m sorry too.  I was kind of an ass about it.  Should have let you talk.”

 Danny laughs against Steve’s lips as Steve takes his mouth again.  Steve isn’t letting him talk now either, but he’s got no problem with it. There is one thing he needs to say, though, and even Steve’s blisteringly hot making out skills aren’t going to stop him.

 “Steve?”

 “Hm?”  Steve blinks at Danny, pupils blown and eyes wide. “Yeah?”

 “I love you a ridiculous amount, okay?  And I’m yours.  Just yours.  For as long as you want me.”

 Steve beams and practically bounces on his toes.  “Yeah? How about forever?”

 Danny’s heart leaps, and he can feel his own radiant smile stretching his face.  “Sounds good.  Very good. Forever sounds good to me.”

 Steve grins and starts kissing him again, nipping at Danny’s lips and sucking at that spot on his neck that makes Danny moan, one hand firm against Danny’s back and the other tangling in his hair.  Danny loses himself in it, gives himself over to Steve, clutching at his shoulders and murmuring encouragement.

 Steve’s hand has moved to the front of Danny’s pants and Danny thinks there’s a decent chance he’s about to get his very first beachfront blowjob when they hear Frank clearing his throat, explaining in an amused tone that he needs to get back, but if they want to stay longer, they can probably catch an Uber.  Steve and Danny jump apart, Steve looking charmingly disheveled and Danny feeling like a kid almost literally caught with his pants down.  

 Danny’s first instinct is to pretend that nothing much was going on, but Steve grabs his hand and beams at him.  There’s a glint in his eye that Danny is all too familiar with, and before he can say anything Steve drags him tight against him, attacking his mouth in a searingly hot kiss - right in front of Frank, who lets out a delighted laugh.   Danny gets the feeling that now that the news is out, this won’t be the first time Steve gets a little possessive in front of their friends.  The wonderful thing is, nothing could make Danny happier.  

[offshore-writes-blog]

searching for a roommate: maybe also love (3/?)

soulmates!au  (part 3/?)

part 1/ part 2/

genre: angsttttt fest pairing: Mark x OC inspired by prompt: (i’ll add the link of the list when i find it) 8. “You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.” 100. ”You’re my soulmate?!”

even soulmates have a hard time admitting they want each other

the next morning, i head into the shower; wanting to be quick and not bump into mark. it’s a late morning for me because i’ve started writing more and reporting less so i spend most mornings at home. i know mark goes to work around 8am so i beeline quickly but still bump into him. godddd my luck’s non-existent.

with my hair soaking with only a towel wrapped around me, i freeze; hoping he’ll ignore me. my head’s still kind of touching his chest but all he does is stand there. i don’t know. i don’t even look up at him.

“hey.” he says softly

i ignore him and continue to walk past him.

“why didn’t you eat?” mark asks because he probably sees the food he’d left for me untouched as he heads towards the front door. i can hear the hurt and when i shut my eyes cringing; i picture his face looking hurt too.

i really don’t know how to make things better between mark and i.

—— text ——

arista: hey jackSUN: this sounds ominous  what’s up arista: mark and i are having roommate issues well not really but like after our housewarming party he’s been so off and i just went off yesterday but only cus he was looking for a fight 😤😤😤 jackSUN: dont ask me he was already grouchy when i saw him arista: wtf happened at the party i was busy with the guests weren’t u two joint to the hip … wait is this a bro code thing jackSUN: i can neither confirm nor deny just think about what you were doing that night which could’ve led to mark’s “weirdness” arista:….

mark’s out in the living room when i finally step out of my room. eyes all wide, staring at me as i’ve caught him mid-bite. i freeze at my room and also just look at him. “hey.” i sit beside him

“hey.” there’s a small smile on his face as his eyes follow me. i’m trying to focus what’s on the tv. “are you hungry? i know you haven’t eaten all day.”

“it’s fine. i’m not hungry.” i lie in a mumble, eyes still on the tv.

“arista.” mark’s attempt at trying to sound stern makes me laugh a little but i try to suppress it. he catches this and nudges me. “i didn’t cook it so it’s even more delicious.”

“i love your cooking.” i mumble, pulling the couch cushion onto my lap. it’s difficult for me to look at him even more. and i am being honest but i really like mark’s cooking. even if he never adds enough salt or seasoning.

he chuckles. that sounds like my favourite thing. “you’re the only one, arista.” from the corner of my eyes, he’s smiling and rolling his eyes at me. my heart’s melting. i’m weak in the knees; thank god i’m sitting down.

“i’m sorry for what happened at the party.” i mumble as he gets up from the couch. when he hears, he pauses. his entire body freezes and head turns to me. “i don’t know what happened but i just want you, us, to be normal again.” god, i hear my own voice. i sound so sad. i don’t want mark to pity me.

“it’s okay. i was just being dumb. it’s nothing. you have nothing to be sorry about.” he says, casually and continues on his way to the kitchen to get food. for the short while he’s gone, my heart’s pounding but i can feel it in my head.

tonight, mark and i talk about that night. when we first met at the club. he details me on what happened because i’m still blurry. really, all he tells me about is how i’d asked him to come over so he could be my roommate. 

///

(flashback third person POV)

mark can’t seem to keep his eyes off of arista. his eyes keep wandering onto her; some supernatural power that keeps pulling him towards arista. when she’d come up to the table, he’d found himself frozen. like something in his head clicked but he couldn’t place what went off. he clues that she’s close to jackson and jaebum; how easily she laughs with them. with all her friends. he doesn’t know where this urge comes from but he’s silently wishing (really really badly) that he hopes he can make her laugh as easily

jennie nudges mark, noticing his gaze at arista throughout the night.

— text —

jen: r u into her?????/

mork: shut up before you draw any attention

jen: isnt she into jackson??i heard jaebum saying thatmork

mork

the incessant beeping of his phone, he finally replies; annoyed. despite the fact that the two of them are sitting together

mork: jfc JEN I SWEAR

//

as jennie yells the dare to arista, mark’s entire body feels like he’s frozen but also burning entirely too hot in anticipation to see what arista will do. he already feels his heart breaking; it seems ridiculous because he’s barely spoken to her and met her 4 hours ago.

with arista’s face so close to jaebum, mark finds himself uncomfortable. he doesn’t like what he sees. his eyes bounce from grace to jackson; who look the least shocked. they must’ve known about her feelings because the two of them almost share the uncomfortable feeling he’d been feeling but were actually showing it while mark remained stoic mostly.

he leaves a little space as arista rushes out; leaving a tense air between all of them. jaebum’s face stuck in shock; mouth slightly agape and turns to jackson.

“what the hell was that?” jaebum mumbles. mark feels bad for arista. he wishes he could feel actually bad though but a part of him is glad that jaebum doesn’t like her back. maybe that means he could talk to her. he isn’t even thinking about dating her. for now, he’s trapped in her magnetic field. she’s so powerful to him; that he just wants to talk to her; know her.

//

even from the booth, mark’s eyes tried to search for arista on the dance floor. sometimes he caught glimpses of her; dancing the night away. again, she looks so carefree and he wishes he could be a little like that. he is like that but he could never especially after what’d had just happened. 

“i’m gonna go get another round.” mark clears his throat and tells jaebum and jennie before heading to the bar.

“MARK!”

“arista!” he mimics her enthusiasm, finds himself smiling wider than he should. “are you okay?” lowering to her height, he asks into her ear. still dancing to the beat, arista’s swaying. mark finds her pout cute.

“i feel like shit! but i’m really drunk right now!” she giggles, yelling over the music so he lowers himself to her height mid-sentence.

“i think you were very brave.” he’s referring to the moment with jaebum and her but she doesn’t get it and only bounces to the music restlessly which makes hims laugh. amused, he watches her for a bit.

“hey, do you wanna be my roommate?” when he’d said brave, he really hadn’t realised that she was that brave. she barely knows him but she’s looking at him so intensely with a genuine smile, which is beyond mark’s understanding because how can a drunk person do that?

“how’d you know?” he asks. why’s he trying to have a conversation with a drunk person?

“come over saturday!!” she yells into his ear which makes him jerk. but her hands grip onto his arms tightly, jumping to the new song playing. “mark, you are absolutely beautiful.” she breathes and he cringes at the smell of alcohol on her breath.

she’s still cute though. /// “you’re a fucking psycho!” i laugh as mark finishes telling me about the night i’d drunkenly yelled into his face. practically demanding to be my roommate; not even a suggestion really. “i was so wasted and you still came.” there’s a sparkle in his eyes as he looks over at me; that teeth-showing smile making me weak.

 mark smiles for a few more moments. “i didn’t want your bravery to go to waste.” he shrugs. 

“well, thank you.” i want to hug him. i want to hold him because he’s making me feel so warm. 

“you’re my favourite roommate.” why did i just say that…… “i mean—“ i start taking my words back but he interrupts me, with his hand on my arm. 

“you are my favourite too.” he says that so genuinely. i almost believe him. god, i wanna get lost in his eyes. there’s a faint smile on his face. i feel like i forget everything when he’s there.

“so can you tell me why were you being so distant?” acutely aware of mark’s hand still on my arm, i place mine over it.

then, it’s silence.

he slowly removes his hand from me and it scares me. maybe i’d been too careless about throwing that out there. maybe he’s still not comfortable with me.

“i saw you with jaebum. out there in the balcony.” he says and i watch him, nodding for him to go on but he’s biting the corner of his lip again. “i don’t know arista. i just felt jealous. but i really don’t like you that way.” he adds the last part way too forcefully which stings a little but it doesn’t surprise me. “i guess i just forgot you had other friends beside me.”

i laugh a little. “you’re so dumb.”

“but you like dumb things.”

“right.”

i’m getting flashbacks to our first conversation in the apartment. i love dumb things.

// we go back to normal after that. whatever normal had been for us anyway. but a part of me is getting mushy feelings for mark; probably because his admission about being jealous made me like him a little bit more. (totally not in a romantic way though) it takes a lot of guts to admit ugly feelings like jealousy though and I'm glad that we’re close enough for that. so my life’s kind of getting on track, my roommate and i are friendly. more and more articles are getting assigned to me instead of on-site reporting. now, all i have to worry about is about these soulmate marks. but it doesn’t matter; a soulmate is meant to be; i don’t have to search for him. hopefully. // mark’s not home. which is weird because it’s mark? he’s always home if not at work. well, i mean he is a single guy. an attractive one. he’s bound to have some fun? i guess? it feels weird even wondering. i sigh; feeling lonely as i serve myself dinner for one. i’d also come back home a bit later than i’d anticipated, like i said, i’ve been getting more articles. so, when the lights were out at home, i’d gotten a little disappointed. 

why do i even wait up for mark? getting antsy, i start biting on my nails. like it’s completely irrational but i start getting angry at him; how could he not text and be like; “hey i’ll be night don’t wait up” okay, but the thing is, he doesn’t have to… we’re just roommates. whatever. 

i force myself to bed. he’s a big boy. despite being a heavy sleeper, i’d gone to bed on edge so i wake up to the sound of things crashing outside. normally, the apartment could be on fire and i wouldn’t realise if asleep.

i know it’s mark. instantly. without a doubt. leaning against the doorframe of my bedroom, i watch him wobble into the living room. he’s probably knocked everything in the hallway. 

mark’s eyes slowly look up to me and a sloppy slow smile forms on his face. and i notice that his eyes look sheepish as he leans on the couch for balance; still looking at me. “ari, i don’t feel so good.” he covers his mouth as he gags. 

“mark, don’t you fucking dare.” i warn, rushing beside him. even the thought of having to clean up puke is making me gag. i want to be angry but he keeps making gagging noises; looking over at me with his eyes that scream innocence. you know the ones where kids know they messed up but expect their parent to help them clean their mess up. 

so he throws up in the toilet bowl with me beside him on the floor; patting his back. but not before he threw up on himself a little before we even made it to the bathroom. surprisingly, my gag reflex hasn’t reacted as i comfort mark throughout his puking. huh, i guess he brings out another strong side to me. normally, i puke whenever i see someone else throw up. 

“arista, i can’t do this. i can’t.i can’t.” he shakes his head, teary-eyed from the constant puking. “i’m gonna dieee.” he slurs before he leans into the toilet bowl again. 

“god, mark. you’re a fucking mess.” i try not to laugh as drool edges on the corner of his lips. “c’mon,” i start unbuttoning his shirt because the smell of vomit on his shirt’s killing me. “you have to get cleaned.” 

“why are you undressing me!?” he yells a little too loudly in my face. 

i scoff. “because you threw up on yourself and i can’t sit here with you all night if you smell like that.” reasoning with a drunk is impossible but he silently agrees and lets me unbutton it; eventually taking it off himself. 

//

the next morning, i’m awake on the couch with asleep against the foot of the couch. (with a bin from my room to throw up in) awake before him, i try to slip past him to get dressed when i notice him shirtless. then, i remember that i’d helped undress him last night. now, i’m only human so i stare at him; shirtless and still slightly hugging the bin. god, he looks like an angel. everything on him looks so soft. 

crouching down to face him, i notice the mark on his chest. similar to mine. shaped like a little heart. i choke a little when i realise how similar they really are. no way. don’t be a fucking weirdo arista. thousands of people probably have similar marks. i check to see if it’s on his left. and it is. my entire body starts burning up when i realise. no way. no way. 

i always thought that there’s this show-stopping moment when you see your soulmate. like, you two just know. did i ever have a moment like that with mark? i mean, i’ve always been drawn to him? or am i just making it up in my head now because i’ve seen his mark? 

mark doesn’t even feel that way about me so there’s no reason for me to hype myself up. sometimes soulmate marks fade. like ray and mine. maybe mark and i aren’t romantic soulmates. i’m not sure how to react now that i rationalise that we may not be romantic soulmates. but it’d make more sense; we’ve always clicked. but … i’ve never wanted to kiss mark in the kitchen when we were both goofing around; cooking dinner. never. not even when we were furniture shopping and we both pointed at the same thing at the same time with the same lame joke....nope... not even then.