#one or the other is either too slow or too distressing for me oof

[ghost-bxrd]

If you had to pick, do you like angst or fluff more? :0

Generally I tend to read something that has both. I need an angsty start and fluffy ending lol ✨

But if I had to pick… I mean it definitely depends on how you define angst, but if it’s not too hardcore I’d probably go with angst. Otherwise— fluff.

I’m too soft for the dark stuff. TwT

[angelmavmurdock]

The Boy Next Door

WARNINGS: SMUT, ORAL (fem+mal), DIRTY TALK, PRAISE, CHOKING, THIGH RIDING, MENTIONS OF DRUGS.

inexperienced!reader x stoner!tom

(inspired by Ginny and Georgia)

The new house was a lot bigger than our last house. But of course that's due to my mother marrying a man 30 years older than her who owns some workout company. She's a gold digger is what I'm trying to say. Ever since I can remember, whatever guy she was dating dictated where we would live, where my brother and I would go to school, what I'd wear, how I'd act and even what friends I had. Or, lack there of. Always being the 'new girl' was beginning to get exhausting so I never really had friends. If I gained any friends then I knew that we'd get close then I'd move and we'd stay in touch for about a month before they move on and forget about me.

y/n. Always the new girl.

"y/n would you help us, please?" Mum asked in an annoyed tone, brushing past me with a box in her hands.

I rolled my eyes and sighed, walking to the car and beginning to lift stuff out and into the house. It was a huge driveway - unnecessarily large - and everyone on the street was the same. Everyone in the town was the same. It was a rich, suburban area. No place I hadn't seen before but we definitely didn't belong. My Mum just shapeshifted into whoever she thought Greg would want. Greg being my 'step-dad'. He's 63. My Mum is 33. How is that even allowed.

We unloaded everything from the cars and waited on the trucks arriving with everything else. Cameron and I scuffed our shoes as we strolled through the huge house, taking in everything and familiarising ourselves with our new home.

"I'm so glad I'm not at school anymore because being in a class with snobby assholes like these people would be shit." Cameron said, crossing his arms as he gestured to the family across the road.

I walked over to him and watched too. A family of 5 - two girls, one boy, Mum and a Dad - were dressed rather nicely in dresses and suits. They came out of their house and waltzed to their Tesla nonchalantly with their noses in the air. The eldest girl looked around my age. She would probably be in some of my classes.

"I'm not looking forward to Monday." I groaned.

We stood in comfortable silence, watching the Tesla inquisitively as it drove off with the family inside.

"Trucks arrived!" Mum called from the front door.

We both shared our sibling look with one another then walked back out with reluctance. Mum was standing in the middle of the driveway with her hands on her hips, watching as Greg approached the van and signed some forms off. Cameron and I walked down and stood either side of her. She grinned and wrapped her arms around us, rubbing both our backs simultaneously.

"I've got a good feeling about this, guys." She took a deep breath.

"At least someone does." I remarked.

She ignored the comment and we watched Greg do practically nothing. I mean he was basically an ancient artefact.

"I've heard your new school is wonderful. The pass grade levels are insanely good and there's a lot of people there to befriend." Mum spoke positively.

"My last 6 schools also had a lot of people to befriend but of course, I always lose them because we move so bloody much." I clenched my jaw.

"Well...this time it's different."

I scoffed, "You always say that."

"I swear this time!"

"And that!"

"y/n I don't know what you want me to do. Greg is a great guy who is supporting us fully! I mean, look at this place! Surely you can't be mad we're living here." Mum shook her head, removing her arm from my waist.

"I'd rather live in a box with just you two than live in a huge house with some random guy in a town I hate." I argued then stormed away dramatically up the driveway.

I got into the house and slammed the door, grabbing the banister and stomping up the flight of stairs. There was one flight then a landing then another flight. This house was too bloody big.

I finally found what was meant to be my new room and slammed that door shut. Just for good measure. I huffed and sighed as I leaned my back against the white, wooden door.

The room was stark white and empty, only a bay window to give some character. I might hate Greg and my mother and this whole situation but I loved this bay window. I snaked in between the boxes and suitcases and sat on the wooden ledge. I kicked my shoes off before sitting my feet up and watching outside. My room faced the front of the house so I could see the movers offloading furniture and boxes off while Greg stood helplessly.

I groaned and leaned my head back, closing my eyes, just wanting to crawl into a shell and hide.

A slam of a car door forced my eyelids open and I jumped slightly.

"Where do you think you're going?!"

I heard a woman's voice from outside. I looked outside curiously, scanning the street with my eyes to find where the noise was coming from. It finally caught my eye and I had to sit up and switch sides of the window to look properly.

A red-headed woman and a curly headed boy were standing in the driveway.

Our next door neighbours apparently.

The boy was around my age, maybe a little older. He stumbled a little as he walked up the drive, his mother - I think - watching from behind her car door.

"I'm going to bed!" He shouted back.

"Not now you're not, you have to talk to me, Thomas!" She shouted, slamming her own car door.

Thomas.

He hung his head on his shoulders, "I need to sleep, mum."

"Well I just had to bail you out of jail for marijuana possession and use so you better talk to me."

Oof, I thought. He was a stoner. A criminal basically. But he was attractive from what you could see. Dark brown curly hair, tall enough, a sharp jawline, a good body from where I was sitting and a good style too - a hoodie with a denim jacket and jeans. But he was my neighbour. And a stoner.

"Mum can we just talk later?" He pleaded, running a hand through his hair.

"Tom we will talk about this right now." She said sternly.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning his back to her and walking away. I watched him with a slight smile. He really was attractive.

"Thomas Holland you get back here right now!" His mother shouted.

"When I'm not on drugs, I'll talk." He stated.

His mother stuttered then just grunted in annoyance, allowing him to go inside.

I kept my eyes on him, my smile still on my face as he started to walk into his house. He suddenly turned his head with a confused expression then looked up. Straight at me through my window.

I froze in shock, eyes widening, mouth parting. He slowly smirked and nodded his head at me before going inside.

I sunk off the window ledge in humiliation, snaking to the floor and mumbling how stupid I was and how embarrassing that was.

"y/n! Come meet your neighbour!" Mum shouted up.

My ears perked up then I leaped up to look out the bay window. The boy next door's mum was standing outside, chatting to my mum.

-

I hardly learned anything talking to his mum. Her name was Nikki Holland, she had a husband named Dominic who was a comedian and a writer. She was a photographer. Along with Tom - the oldest - she had three other sons: twins named Harry and Sam and then Paddy who was a good bit younger. I can't remember the exact age. My mum had nosily asked her about Tom and that was the only part I listened to.

"He's 18,"

"Dropped out of school last year,"

"Says he wants to be an actor,"

"Oh today? He got in trouble from the police about...you know what, that isn't important."

"You look so young to be a mother to a teenager. How old are you?"

"And you're 18, too?" "Still in school?" "What do you want to do?" "Ah, smart girl."

The conversation was brief and slightly awkward. She was clearly stressed about Tom and his situation so I slid out of the engagement pretty fast and escaped up to my room.

During the entirety of the weird conversation, the movers had put my bed, mattress and desk into my room. It felt a lot more homier.

-

It was the next night and I had finished dinner and immediately gone upstairs. I was not participating in any sort of 'family time'. I sat down on my bed and scrolled through my phone aimlessly.

A thump outside drew my attention away and I looked to my right at the regular window which faced our neighbours house.

I sat up and squinted to see out into the dark. It was Tom. He was halfway out his window.

I didn't even realise our windows faced each other. And here he was, one leg out the window and his other following on. He had thrown a backpack down which caused the dull thump on the grass - which I only assume contains weed - and now he was escaping his house.

I got out of bed and walked to the glass, peeking out to see what he was doing.

He climbed impressively down the wall and jumped the last few metres, landing in a Spider-Man like pose. Admirable, I thought as he picked up his back pack and slid a skateboard out from a bush. He brushed it off then slotted it under his armpit.

He was sporting a black t-shirt with a dog-tag necklace and some distressed deep blue jeans with a denim jacket over top and a baseball cap placed on backwards that sat on top of his curly head of hair.

He looked around in case he was going to get caught then looked up. Directly at me. Again.

This time I didn't shy away. I just made a gesture and mouthed 'what the fuck?' then he laughed to himself and looked back up at me.

'Don't be so nosy, neighbour', he mouthed.

I squinted and shook my head in disapproval. He just smirked boyishly then walked to his driveway where he flipped his skateboard and skated off into the night.

I gulped and sat back on my bed, feeling my heart rate slow back down.

But curiosity filled my brain.

Where was he going?

-

Just as Sunday night came around, I had finished decorating my room. My pictures and paintings hung on the wall, along with some mirrors to fill the blank space of the white walls. My bed was cosy and was filled with throw blankets, fluffy sheets and way too many pillows. My desk was organised and my laptop sat atop the white surface, making it look a lot more professional than I had anticipated.

I had turned my bay window into a reading nook. A few blankets lay on the ledge and a couple pillows too, along with my current read.

I had seen Tom sneak out a few nights ago but I tried to stay away from the regular window, only ever sitting on the bay one because I couldn't see Toms room from there.

However, it didn't shield me from him completely.

I would see him outside in their front garden playing games with his brothers and sometimes I'd watch them from just over the top of my book. The way he played with their dog was cute. I had gathered her name was Tessa and I knew she was a staffy because we used to have one. He'd throw balls or sticks for her and sometimes she'd clamber on top of him with excitement. He'd dodge her licks but still clap her because she was excited after all.

Every once in a while he'd catch me looking down at him or I'd catch him looking up at me. Whenever it happened, it seemed as if everyone and everything disappeared. Like it was just us. Tunnel view. But then one of us would look away or stick the middle finger up or mouth 'fuck off'. Our unusual and silent rivalry was the closest thing to a friend I'd had in years.

But now, Mum, Greg and Cameron were going out to a nice dinner to celebrate the first week of living here. I thought it was an incredibly stupid idea so I decided to stay home alone and eat pizza.

They all left and Cameron immediately texted me.

Cammando: I hate you for leaving me

y/n: your fault not mine :)

I didn't really know what to do. I walked around the house and asked Alexa to play some songs but I couldn't be bothered dancing. I wasn't really in a dancing mood.

I just gave up and went back upstairs into my room. My windows were still open so before I got changed I went to close them and put down the blinds. I closed the bay window and then I went to the next one.

I looked straight ahead into Toms room and my jaw dropped.

He was hopping and hyping himself up in front of a punch bag...shirtless with gloves on. I watched as he punched the bag skilfully, moving his feet as if it was a choreographed routine. His damp curly hair hung onto his forehead and I could see glimpses of airpods in his ears. His back muscles tightened and flexed as he threw punches.

He moved around the bag and now I could see the front of him. He had a very visible six pack. I definitely didn't expect that from the stoner boy next door. If I thought he was attractive before...now I don't even know what I would call him.

Otherworldly, perhaps?

He suddenly looked up and I gasped, turning and slamming my back against the wall next to the window, wincing at the pain. Hopefully he didn't see me...

It was creepy to be staring at him. I shouldn't have done it.

I peeked back and he was back to beating the poor punch bag.

God, he was so hot.

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks and ears, burning with lust. I gulped and looked away, closing the blind to stop myself from looking anymore.

I got changed into shorts and a burgundy Cambridge University jumper that used to belong to my Dad. He gave it to me the first time he properly left for a while and I still have it even though I see him more often.

I hopped downstairs and played some music while I sorted the pizza and chips out to eat.

I sat and ate while listening to music. Once I was finished, I cleaned everything up then went back upstairs into my room, shutting the door behind me and jumping onto my bed.

I scrolled through tiktok aimlessly, just filling the time before it was an acceptable hour to go to bed as a teenager.

I switched apps to Instagram when I lay on my side, my back facing my windows. I scrolled through for a while but a certain picture caught my eye.

I had to blink a few times to really look.

It was my so called 'best friend' who I hadn't talked to since I moved twice after befriending her and my ex-boyfriend. My ex. My only boyfriend I've ever had. My first kiss, my first date...my first time. My only time. We only had sex twice. Three if you count foreplay but I faked it. Actually I faked it all of the times. He was never good at it and I had no idea how to go about telling him because to be honest, I had no idea what to do either.

But my ex-best friend and my ex-boyfriend? She didn't even tell me. She didn't even think to ask me.

They were dressed nicely and holding each other's waists. It looked a little awkward but most of those pictures are because they are being taken by parents.

I looked through the comments.

OMG! Hot couple alert! You two are the cutest just marry already yall are too happy it's been the best year of my life baby

"WHAT?!" I exclaimed, sitting up sharply.

They had been together for a YEAR.

"Ugh!" I groaned and threw my phone across my room, hearing it basically break against the wooden floor.

"Rough night?" A voice spoke from my window.

I screamed, jumping with fear and successfully landing my ass on the floor.

I panicked and grabbed the first thing I could use as a weapon. A glass of water. It would have to do.

I quickly flung the water at the intruder, "WHAT THE FUCK, GET OUT!" I screamed, my eyes closed tightly in fear.

I heard the water splash over them but they still came in. I just threw the glass at them. It thumped against them dully and then crashed onto the floor.

"Ouch."

I slowly opened one eye and looked up at the figure who had just entered my room.

It was Tom.

He was in a grey t-shirt and black basketball shorts with a baseball cap placed on backwards, a backpack thrown over his shoulder.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING CLIMBING INTO MY ROOM?!" I shouted, standing up.

He was taller than me by a few inches but we were basically at eye level.

"I was clearly looking for some company but you then threw water over me and then a literal glass." He spoke calmly, wiping a hand over his wet face.

"How the hell are you being so calm about this?! You just intruded into my home!" I exclaimed.

"Well, darling, I have a thing called weed. It's great for calming you down. You clearly need some." He slung his bag around and went to open it.

"W-what? No, I'm not smoking weed!"

He sighed and slung his bag back, "Well, why are you being so uptight about this I just wanted to say hello." He smiled boyishly.

I licked my teeth in annoyance. He was so fucking attractive but he was so fucking annoying and I didn't even know him.

"You need to get out. I didn't invite you in here so you are not welcome." I stated, crossing my arms.

"Okay, yes. But also- my mother nearly just caught me sneaking out so it's a cover if she comes round here."

"Why would she come here?" I asked.

"Because she's a mad woman who hates me having a life apparently."

"You're an 18 year old who sneaks out of the house to smoke weed. I wouldn't call that a life." I remarked.

He smirked, "You know what, I like you."

He sat his bag down then started to walk slowly around my room, inspecting my pictures and decorations intricately.

I stuttered, not knowing how to react to this whole situation.

"I'm sorry, what the hell are you doing?" I asked, brows furrowed.

"You're quite an interesting person, I must say."

I sighed and shook my head at the ceiling.

"Ah, this makes sense." He picked up one of my camera's.

I scoffed, "What's that supposed to mean?"

He sat it down and picked up the next one, shrugging with a smug smirk.

"You like looking at things."

I gulped, red rushing to my cheeks.

"Clearly very beautiful things." He said, referring to my pictures on the walls.

"I'm just honoured I'm one of them."

I rolled my eyes and scoffed, "You wish you were."

"Oh but I am, aren't I?" He challenged, sitting my camera down.

I licked my back teeth and watched with heavy breath as he paced towards me slowly.

"I've never taken a picture of you before." I said matter-of-factly.

"You might not have but you definitely love a good stare, don't you?" He asked, his left eyebrow quirked cockily.

I noticed the unusualness of it and then looked into his dark, dilated eyes.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I said quietly.

He laughed lowly, "So you weren't staring at me earlier when I was working out?"

I stuttered as we came face to face.

"You're stubborn but I feel like I know you," He placed his fingers under my chin, tracing up my jaw and to my ear where he tucked some of my hair behind.

"Because I've been looking at you, too." He whispered.

I practically melted and a whimper left my mouth, eyes rolling back.

He chuckled, "Already needy for me I see."

I looked up at him as his thumb swiped over my lips.

This whole situation was insane. I didn't even know how we got here. I didn't know how to feel, either. I had never been turned on like this before.

He slowly pushed his thumb into my mouth and I moaned around it, tasting his skin.

"Good girl." He praised, taking his thumb out and replacing it with his tongue.

I moaned again, feeling his lips on mine. His hands gripped my waist and I tangled my fingers into his hair.

He tasted of weed but I didn't mind it at all. He pushed me backwards until I hit the wall next to my bed. He gripped my hips tightly and I kept my hands in his hair. He must have gone for a shower since his workout because he smelled fresh and clean and his hair was damp.

I couldn't believe I was doing this. I was kissing a stranger. Who climbed into my room.

"Wait-" He pulled away briefly.

"Is your family home?" He asked.

"No, they're out all night." I answered breathlessly.

He smirked, "Good."

He suddenly lifted me up and I squealed, automatically wrapping my legs around his taut torso.

His tongue slipped between my lips again and I welcomed it. He lay me down on my bed and started to kiss down to my jaw and my neck.

I gasped and tugged his hair when he started kissing a certain spot on my skin. He got the message that I liked it and started licking and sucking on it. I arched my back slightly, moaning as he worked his tongue and lips on my skin.

He left the spot on my neck but kissed over my skin as he started to lift my jumper up. Panic and nerves suddenly settled in and I grabbed his hands, stopping his movements.

"You alright?" He asked breathlessly.

I swallowed, "I uh...I've never-"

His eyes widened, "You're a virgin?"

"No, no. I've had sex it just...it just wasn't that great." I bit my lip nervously.

He encased my lips in his and I relaxed to his touch.

"Do you want to?" He asked against my lips.

"Yes, fuck yes." I practically moaned into his mouth.

"I just need you to guide me through it." I said in between kisses.

He pulled away, "I can do that." He smiled.

He started to lift my jumper off and this time I let him. I sat up and he removed it, throwing it off the bed. He admired the pink bralette I was wearing and immediately pressed his lips and tongue to the valley of my breasts. He nipped and sucked on my skin and I moaned as he palmed one of my boobs while leaving marks on the other.

He came back up and kissed me again but flipped us over so I was now on top. He sat up and shuffled back against my headboard and pulled me onto his lap.

He brushed my hair off my shoulders and cupped my chin, taking me in.

"D'you wanna try riding my thigh?" He asked lowly.

I gulped, "S-sure."

He smirked and I straddled his left thigh, holding his shoulders.

"Just rock your hips back and forwa-"

"Fuck," I moaned, the rubbing of the different materials causing my core to clench.

"Does that feel good?" He asked, his breath fanning over my face.

His hands rested on my hips and he helped my movements.

"Feels so good." I moaned.

"Yeah? You like riding my thigh?" He prompted, his hands making me speed up.

I fisted the material of his shirt in my hands as my mouth fell agape with pleasure.

"Riding my thigh like such a good girl." He praised.

"Fuck!" I hung my head back, his words going straight to my core.

He chuckled cockily, "D'you like when I call you that? Huh?"

I nodded, too flustered with these new senses of pleasure to speak.

His hand travelled up into my hair and tugged on it by my roots. A louder moan than I would have liked escaped my lips.

"I asked you a question, answer me." He said sternly.

"Fuck! Yes, I love it when you call me that." I answered pathetically.

"Good girl." He praised, letting go of my hair and rocking my hips on him.

I felt an immense amount of pleasure build up and it felt as if something was going to snap in me.

"Oh shit, I- fuck!" I furrowed my brows in concentration and confusion.

"R'you gonna cum, darling?" He asked, almost shocked.

"I don't- fuck - know!" I moaned, feeling the knot inside my stomach about to snap.

But before that could even happen I was being flipped back onto my back and Tom was ripping off my shorts and panties, diving in between my legs with lust.

His hands held my thighs and brought me closer to him. His lips attached to my clit and sucked, giving me a whole new feeling.

"Oh, fuck! Yes! Yes!" I moaned shamelessly, tugging his hair and fisting the bedsheets.

"Go on, darling. Cum in my mouth for me. Taste so good. Please, love."

The mixture between his words and his nicknames for me and the fact his mouth was working wonders on my core completely sent me over the edge: an experience I had never had before.

"Holy shit! Tom! Yes!" I subconsciously tightened my thighs around his head and my hands practically pushed him completely onto me.

He continued riding me through my high until I unclenched my thigh and he pulled away slowly.

I lay breathless and in a state of shock and euphoria at the same time.

"You okay?" He asked soothingly, rubbing his hand over my bare thigh as he came up to kiss me.

"Yeah I've...I've never-"

"You've never came before?" Tom asked, baffled by me.

"Nope..."

He kept his eyes on me but slipped a hand down to my core again. I bucked my hips against his hand with a gasp as he moved his fingers in circles over my core.

"You've never even touched yourself?" He asked lowly.

I bit my lip and shook my head.

"You're so wet for me, darling, fuck." He cursed.

He suddenly dipped a finger into my core and I moaned. He curled it up and I gripped his arm tightly.

"What d'you want?" He asked.

"I want you, Tom, please." I bit my lip.

He smiled and sat back, his hand coming away from my clit, leaving me feeling empty. He shed his shirt and I finally got to look at his chiselled torso up close. He then slid his shorts and boxers off and my jaw dropped at the sight of him.

He was semi-hard but he was already bigger than my ex. A lot bigger.

He pumped his member in his hand, "You sure about this?"

I stuttered, completely distracted by his actions than his words.

"What? You like the look of it? Hmm? Wanna suck me off?" He asked, his hand cupping my chin and sliding his thumb into my mouth again.

I moaned at his words and nodded.

"You want to suck me off, darling? You sure?" He asked, removing his thumb.

"Yes, fuck Tom, I wanna suck you off." I moaned.

"Good girl." He praised.

We switched positions so he was sitting against the headboard and now I was in between his legs.

"I don't know how to..." I said shakily.

"You're okay," He gathered my hair up in his hands.

"Do whatever feels natural and I'll tell you if it's good, yeah?"

I nodded and gulped, moving my mouth closer to his member. I pumped him in my hand a few times and I could almost feel him harden right there. I had done this part before, at least.

I lowered my mouth onto him, swirling my tongue around his lip. He hissed slightly and gripped my hair tighter. I slowly let my mouth down on him and came back up.

"That's it, good girl." He praised.

I moaned and continued bobbing my head slowly on him, finding a rhythm. I held his thigh for support as I got faster, easing into it.

"Fuck, darling, feels so good." He groaned.

The taste of him in my mouth was amazing, pre cum already escaping onto my tongue.

I slackened my jaw and took as much of him as I could then pumped the rest in my hand.

"Holy shit! Fuck!" He held my head there and thrusted up.

His member hit the back of my throat but I didn't mind it at all. He made sure I was okay then did it again. And again. And again. Until he was continuously throat fucking me. I enjoyed it, surprisingly. The obscene sounds my mouth was making was not only making Tom more aroused, but also me.

I felt some drool drip down from my mouth onto my chin and even onto his lower stomach but I didn't care.

"Fuck, love those pretty little sounds coming from your throat, baby." He groaned.

I moaned, my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

"Such a good girl."

But then he pulled me off of him. I looked at him in confusion but he flipped me onto my back sooner than I could say anything.

"Need to be in you before I cum, princess." He said, kissing me deeply, his tongue exploring my mouth.

"Ready?" He asked.

I felt his tip brush up and down my folds. I gripped his arms and nodded, closing my eyes to concentrate.

"Hey, look at me." He said.

I looked up into his gorgeous chocolate eyes.

"Breathe in," He instructed.

I did as he said.

"And out."

As I breathed out, he pushed into me slowly.

I moaned and arched my back at the feeling of him inside of me. His technique worked.

"You okay?" He asked caringly.

I nodded, biting my lip.

"You can move."

He started thrusting slowly in and out of me, my arousal making it a lot easier for him to move.

"So fuckin' tight, darling." He cursed.

I wrapped my thighs around his waist and he bottomed me out.

"Yes!" I moaned, my back arching so our chests were touching.

"Does that feel good?" He asked.

I hummed, "Faster, please."

He smirked, "As you wish."

His thrusts got gradually faster and my mouth hung open in a silent moan. He brushed past my g-spot with every movement and I scraped his back with my finger nails.

"So fucking good," I gasped.

He sped his thrusts completely and his head fell into the crook of my neck, leaving sloppy kisses on my skin.

"So big! Yes!" I moaned pornographically as he perfectly met my g-spot.

He reached a hand down and started rubbing my clit in skilful circles. I screamed out in overwhelming pleasure as I felt the now familiar feeling come back in my stomach.

"So good for me, darling. Been such a good girl. You gonna cum?" Tom whispered his praises into my ear.

"So close! Oh my god!" I curled my toes and dug my fingernails into his back.

"Come on darling. Feel so good around my cock. Feel so fucking good. You're a fucking angel, y/n. Fuck." He moaned.

I rolled my eyes back at his words. God his words.

"I'm gonna cum!" I squealed, eyes squeezing shut.

"Look at me when you cum, love."

I could hardly hear his voice anymore as I felt my second high approaching.

"I said-"

I gasped as I felt his hand around my throat, pressing the sides of my neck, activating some unknown pleasure button.

"Look at me when you cum all over my fucking cock." He grunted, his dark, dilated eyes staring into mine.

I kept my eyes on him as my high began to wash over me. His thrusts kept the same pace but his fingers moved faster, spurring my orgasm along.

"Yes! Fuck, feels so- yes!" I moaned.

I was extremely loud, I'm surprised the police hadn't come knocking asking about it.

My high seemed to be everlasting. Tom began to pull out but I kept my legs wrapped around him.

"Want you to cum in me, Tom. Please." I begged.

"You sure?" He asked, holding his orgasm back.

"Yes! Please! Need your cum in me." I moaned seductively against his lips.

"Fuck- so good for me- yes!"

I felt as he stilled in me, and as his cum painted my walls. His face contorted in levels of pleasure as he finished and I was finally coming down from my own high.

He pulled out after a second and collapsed next to me.

We both lay together, not saying a word, just listening to each other's breathing calm.

After a minute or two, he turned to face me.

"That- was so fucking good." He laughed.

"It was." I smiled back.

He reached a hand over to my face and brushed my hair behind my ear. I softened into his touch and hummed.

But that bliss was broken quickly.

"Hello?! We're home!"

I gasped, shooting up on my bed.

"Is that your mum?!" Tom whisper shouted.

"Yes! You need to go like now!" I whispered back.

He scurried off the bed and into his boxers and clothes, shakily putting on his shirt and attempting to put his shoes on quickly but leaving them untied.

I grabbed his backpack and handed it to him.

"Thank you," He smiled, taking it from me and heading for the window again.

He swung a leg out but then hesitated.

"Oh and uh-"

He held his hand out.

"I'm Tom, by the way." He grinned.

I smiled, shaking his hand.

"I'm y/n. Nice to meet you, neighbour."

"Nice to meet you, too." He winked, before climbing out the window, down the wall and back into his own house.

Nice to meet you indeed.

-

A/N: this is written for my amazing friend Caitlin and it's her birthday today! and she gave me all the details for this piece so i hope you guys enjoyed!

[damnedparker]

fugitives

pairing: alex law x reader (gender neutral; no y/n)

warnings: food mention, swearing, Extremely Soft alex, cliche flower date, literally all fluff because thats my brand i guess

summary: alex law is a lot of things, but he most definitely is not a shitty boyfriend.

3k words alex lawies! what! i dont even know what this is. soppy romantic stuff. i love this stupid criminal man too much and no one can stop me. all i can write is fluff. everyday i wake up and choose yearning

You almost groaned as you were brought out of a vague sort of sleep for the third time that night, your boyfriend going through another bout of shifting around for the thousandth time. Alex had always had on and off issues with falling asleep, what he attributed to having a brain that just never stopped or slowed down enough to relax unless he was completely exhausted. You understood what he meant, you only wished you could do something to help. You had tried getting him to read, or relaxing to music before sleep, but neither seemed to help much for him.

As he shifted around again, tangling and untangling his legs with yours multiple times before tossing his head to the side in frustration, you scooted away from your usual place tucked into his side. You had hopes that giving him space without you being half on top of him might help him find a comfortable enough position to fall asleep. Soon, you began to doze off again, your body tuning out his tossing and turning just enough before you were woken up by him whispering your name when he stilled. You replied in a sleepy hum, not quite coherent enough to form any words at the moment.

“Are you mad at me?” You blinked your eyes open at that, confused.

“No, Alex, why d’you think that?”

“You moved away from me.”

“I thought maybe you would be more comfortable that way is all.” You yawned, closing your eyes again.

“I’m sorry.”

“S’okay.” There was a beat of silence, and you thought he had tried to fall asleep again before he reached out for you and pulled you back into his arms, his front pressed tightly against your back. You smiled at the return of his warmth, much preferring to sleep with him holding you or vice versa. More moments of quiet passed, and you began to get sleepy again. But once more, Alex’s voice brought you back to the waking world.

“When’s the last time we went on a date?”

“What?” You mumbled, not sure if you heard him right.

“I don’t know when the last time we went out together was.” He shifted against you again to push his legs between yours, his cold feet settling against your calves. You easily fought the urge to shiver, used to his icy palms and feet pressing against your skin or warmth during the night.

“We went out to the pub just last week.” You replied, becoming fully awake now. A frustrated puff of air from Alex met the back of your neck.

“I’d hardly call me getting shitfaced-drunk a proper date, love.” His fingers began to nervously play with the hem of your shirt as he spoke, a telling tick that Alex always smoothed over with brazen or loud words, pushing down the fact that he was distressed. You covered his hand with yours and pressed it to your tummy to still his movements, now exposed from all the shifting around the both of you had done.

“I don’t need a proper date, or whatever that even means, Alex. I just like being around you.” It sounded incredibly corny, sure, but it was true. You’d much rather get plastered or stay home watching movies with your boyfriend, than have to go through the motions at some overpriced restaurant only to come home and do the very same thing you would rather be doing in the first place.

You turned around in his arms, changing positions so that your head rested on his chest, your arms hugging his middle. He began playing with your hair quietly, not saying anything after your last statement. He had seemed to relax a little at your reassurance, but you could feel the insecurity lingering in his movements and the silence that followed without some kind of acceptance or witty comment.

This time it was you who broke the quiet.

“What’s got you thinking about this in the middle of the night?”

“A few days ago, when we were hanging around on the couch, David said some fuckin’ thing about us never going out on a date, and me being a shitty boyfriend. I don’t know why I keep thinking about it.” He mumbled bitterly, upset with himself for letting this get to him. You scooted up slightly, so your face was level with his, reaching out to brush the hair out of his face, which was quite the sight from all the tossing and turning in bed.

“Well, David’s a twat,” you murmured next to his ear, causing a small grin to break out on Alex’s face. He turned to look at you, dark circles present under his icy, soft eyes, his smile unfading. You had to actively stop yourself from bursting out with an I love you, not wanting to make the moment too serious, and you weren’t sure that Alex was the type to say it. You were also a little nervous to tell him, and mostly just hoped that somehow, he knew how much you cared for him. And, of course, you hoped he felt the same. “You are anything but a shitty boyfriend, my Alex. You’re my favorite person.” He closed his eyes and leaned into your palm, now resting against his cheek. A quiet sigh of contentment left his lips, and you closed the small gap between your faces to give him a long kiss.

“Let’s go somewhere tomorrow, get away from this stupid flat for a bit.” He pressed his cheek to yours, breath tickling your ear as he murmured softly to you. Tingles spread down your spine at the intimacy, and your hand found its way under his t-shirt, soft with wear, running up his back to feel his skin.

“Where to?” You raised an eyebrow. He sat up slightly to rest his cheek on his hand as he looked down at you, pretending to think hard before answering. Your heart fluttered when his other hand found yours, gently squeezing.

“Wherever you want.”

“Well, then I’d like to stay home.” Alex sighed dramatically and hung his head in lighthearted annoyance. The smile that had overtaken your lips since he’d woken you was incapable of leaving your face as you reached out to run your fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face. He peeked up at you with one eye.

“You’re so difficult, you know that?”

“I do it just to make you mad.” The smile on your face was wiped off briefly as you squeaked in surprise when Alex leapt up from his position, trying to pin you to the bed. Laughter rung out far too loudly from your lungs in the middle of the night as you scrambled to escape his hold, albeit not very successfully. Just as you had one foot on the floor to leave the bed, Alex grabbed your other ankle, and the movement of you pulling away resulted in you crashing onto the wood floor, with Alex following, landing on top of you with an almost comical oof. You groaned under him, a bit of pain coming from his weight, as well as the contact your body had made with the hard floor. There was barely a moment to register said pain, as the two of you wrestled on the floor for a bit, somehow bringing the blankets with you across the room within the struggle. You eventually yielded to your boyfriend, far too out of breath from laughter and effort to fight any longer, and also knowing you were making too much noise.

“I win.”

“Yeah, I think that happens when you give the other person a concussion.” You sarcastically replied, wincing when you tried to sit up. Alex’s eyebrows drew up in concern, but you stopped him. “I’m just kidding, Alex. But that fall did kinda hurt. You’re fucking heavy.”

“It’s all my muscles.” He grinned, letting you go to lay next to you. You pinched his bicep as he moved over.

“Yeah, these chicken arms are so strong.” You teased, and he scoffed again in feigned offence.

“You know, I’ll remember that the next time you’re drunk and you don’t want to walk home from the pub,” He pointed a finger at you, which your response was point your own at him. Except, you know, the middle one. “Ohh, you’re so sweet, darling.” He cooed. You rolled over to straddle his waist, taking his position from earlier. Alex rested his hands on your thighs, gently rubbing circles into them with his thumbs. It was a curiosity how this man didn’t get whatever he wanted when he was capable of looking at you the way he did. “Please can we go somewhere tomorrow?”

“Okay,” you finally agreed, and he sat up in excitement, making you slide down to his lap. You rested your hands on his shoulders. “Somewhere fun though. Not a fancy restaurant.”

“What about a… lower grade restaurant?”

“Alex…” He responded to your small whine with your own name in the same tone, tilting his head with the cutest puppy dog eyes in the world.

“I don’t like restaurants either, but we can get the food to go. I’ll take you to that park you like, with the botanical gardens,” he pouted. “Come on, I’ll pick you a flower or some romantic crap like that.”

“I don’t think those flowers are meant for picking, sweetheart,” His only response was a mischievous grin. You should have known better than to even try to say anything opposing his plans. You weren’t ever going to really say no in the first place; why would you reject any amount of time spent with your boyfriend? Especially when he was being uncharacteristically romantic, or at least romantic in his own way. “I suppose we can go.”

“Good,” His smile turned soft. “Now I really won’t be able to sleep.”

--

The next day, Alex burst into your apartment after you had gotten home from work. Literally right after. You had barely taken off your shoes.

“Sometimes I regret giving you a key to my flat.” Your hands gripped at the sofa you were leaning on, recovering from the minor heart attack he had given you from his sudden appearance.

“Why? I thought you liked me.” He teased, grabbing onto your waist from the side. Your eyes softened as you took in his appearance, dressed in your favorite combination of the approximately six options in clothes he had; a green sweatshirt, denim jacket, topped by his leather jacket.

“I like you very much, Alex.” your voice was almost dreamy as you said it, locking eyes with him for a moment too long. Your boyfriend shifted a little, seeming to get nervous and glancing down before he spoke.

“We best get going soon, huh?” The sudden change of subject made you swallow hard, worried you’d ruined something at his now fidgety state. You nodded and mumbled something about changing before rushing off to your room. That was weird, and the sudden shift in mood from Alex meant something was either wrong, or you had made him uncomfortable somehow. Great. Not like that won’t haunt you the rest of the night. Totally.

As soon as you emerged from your room, clothes changed and forcibly pushing down what had happened a moment ago, Alex seemed back to his regular, excited self, throwing you a grin that encouraged you to file the moment ago in the back of your mind. Along with how clammy his palm felt when he slid his fingers between yours. Maybe he was still anxious in relation to everything he said last night.

There was only a brief separation of touch as you both slid into the Mini Cooper. Key into ignition, gear shift in reverse; Alex threw his arm over the back of your seat as he backed out of the parking lot, stopping briefly with his foot on the brake to press a kiss to your cheek before switching gears and heading out onto the road. His hand soon landed in its regular affectionate spot on your thigh as he drove, turning up his favorite album so the two of you could sing along, your off-key screaming going in and out as you got swept up in random conversations. When it was warm enough, Alex would roll all the windows down, and you’d cruise forever until you end up parked in the shadows somewhere to make out like teenagers. It was torturous how much you loved him; how happy he made you feel. You hoped you made him feel the same way.

The oh-so romantic meal for the night were greasy chips to share, probably detrimental for your intestines later, and sandwiches from the place you both frequented often, as it was almost the exact middle distance between your flats. As per tradition, the two of you ate on the bench outside, as the weather was a little chilly as dusk approached, but not cold enough yet to scare you off. The two of you talked about the usual as you ate, jumping from topic to topic with the ease of trapeze artists, supporting each other with interest as you went. Alex was smiling far more than usual, especially when the two of you were talking about work of all things, and the way his eyes followed your every movement squeezed your heart just the same as his hugs did after a few days apart. Whatever was on his mind was clearly tinging his behavior, and you definitely could tell, with the other signals from other, something was up with him. You just didn’t know what.

What followed your dinner was another car ride, as the gardens you loved were too far of a walking distance. And although it wasn’t a long distance when driving, you were still anxious to get out as soon as you got there, throwing open the door mere seconds after Alex parked the car.

The gardens were fairly empty, but not totally so; a few people roamed about here and there, but they were mostly adults. Alex trailed close behind you as you began to explore, surveying all the new plants that had been added since the last time you’d been able to visit.

“I should’ve brought a camera,” he mentions as you study a patch of dahlias, maroons and oranges beautiful in the soft light of the scattered lampposts around the gardens. “You’re so pretty.” The last comment was softer than his first, amplified by his sudden presence next to you, an arm slipping around your waist. You glanced over to meet his gaze, already stuck on you, tilting your head just so. Something was definitely going on with him. But knowing Alex, he wasn’t telling you for a reason, so it’d be best to just let him get to whatever it is on his own. In all honesty, his tone had struck you silent, and you didn’t know what to say. A kiss on his jaw replaced any words you could’ve forced out of your mouth.

The two of you stuck to the other’s sides as you continued to stroll through the gardens, conversing about both the flowers and whatever tangential topic struck your thoughts.

Eventually, you ended up sitting on a bench next to your favorite flowers of the night, the honeysuckle. Something about them was drawing you towards them, and Alex had insisted you sit for a while and talk. His jacket had found its way to your shoulders a while ago, due to the slight shiver you had experienced a few times from a breeze that was a bit too strong, and your boyfriend immediately jumping on the idea that, god forbid, you were a bit too cold. He would never admit it, but sometimes he was very protective of your comfort level. It was sweet.

You were busy looking up at the stars which were growing brighter as the night wore on when Alex called your name softly. His hand slipped into yours again, beginning to play with your fingers like he always did when something was bothering him.

“You know,” he paused, looking down at his lap and seeming very interested in watching his thumb stroke and rub gently over your knuckles. “I’m sorry if I haven’t been the best boyfriend over the past year… I know I’m temperamental and annoying sometimes—”

“Alex,” you stopped him with a gentle smile. “Like I told you last night, you’re my favorite person. No conditions and no buts.” He still wouldn’t look at you, so you took the opportunity to brush his hair from his face to know you were listening attentively. “What is it?”

“I just—” He sighed, his shoulders readjusting as he sat up and finally turned his head to you. “I really love you.” His eyes were full of worry as he made his confession, and all you could do is squeeze his hand in reply with a soft, reassuring smile. “I’ve never really committed to someone before, so I’ve just been… really worried about telling you. I don’t know. I know you like me, every logical part of my brain shows me that. I know I would be devastated if you left. I just—I worry you don’t wanna be stuck with someone like me sometimes. Especially when my flatmates barely tolerate me. I don’t know how you manage to all the time.”

“It’s not something I have to think about, I just do,” you shrugged. Your brain was working on mostly auto-pilot at his words, the confession spreading warmth through your body like wildfire. “I love you, idiot. Of course I love you.” A grin spread across Alex’s face at your words, both in relief and in affection. Before you could add on to your statement, he rushed forward to smother you in an excited kiss, his hand slipping up to cradle your jaw. And then he repeated the motion, a few times over, a punctuation to his confession, and a release of worry.

“Fuck.” He murmured as he pulled away for the last time. You furrowed your eyebrows in question, as he tore his eyes away from you to lean over and pluck a honeysuckle flower from next to the bench.

“Alex, I wasn’t kidding when I said that’s not what those are for—"

“Be quiet, baby, I’m being romantic,” he shushed, tucking the flower gently above your ear. You couldn’t help the quiet laugh that escaped from you and caused you to tilt your head; just a bit too much, as the flower drifted into your lap. Alex let out another curse and carefully slipped it back to where it was, eyeing it like a disobedient dog. “I was gonna do that before I told you.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, it’s still cute now,” you pressed a kiss to his forehead before standing and tugged on the hand joined with yours. “Come on, let’s get out of here before the flower police arrest you for theft.”

“Please, they’d never catch us. I wouldn’t let them,” he scoffed, playing along. “Besides, we’re too cute to be prosecuted.”

[adventuresinwonderlust]

hey, could you do something where the reader meets yoon while either they or him are rolling around on the floor of the wolmido ride? 🥺 ty if so!

Title: Wolmido

Pairing: yoongi x reader ft. JK

Warnings: fluff, smut, oral (m) receiving

Rating: 18 and over

Permanent Tag List: @mochilicious-yoongi @heyimtavia

You squealed loudly, jumping up and down, winning the ball toss game. Your friends mouth hanging open in shock. “Hell yeah! That’s my best friend!” She shouts suddenly at the two guys standing next to you, defeated. The one in baby blue pouts, telling his friend that he wants to play again. It’s the one in yellow, however, that you can't take your eyes off. His sweet stoic face, his sharp cat like eyes. You couldn’t stop staring the entire time you stood there playing. When had he noticed you? You wondered to yourself. “Here’s your prize!” The employee says, shoving a stuffed teddy bear at you. You cradle it against your chest, still staring at the handsome man across from you. “Come.” Your friend shouts, snapping you out of your mini staring contest.

You made your way through the crowd of people in the packed Wolmi Theme Park. “Come let's get on the Disco Pang Pang.” Your best friend urges. You cringe at the thought of being spun in circles, your stomach already doing back flips. “Uh, I don’t know about this. I might hurl.” “Don't be a baby. It’ll be fun!” You groan, being pulled along by your very excited friend. You approach the ride, waiting on the line, looking at the people bounce up and down screaming. “Is this supposed to be fun?” You ask aloud. “Yes, you my friend, are just boring.”

You shake your head, moving forward with the group of people ahead of you. “We shouldn’t do this. What if we get hurt?” Your friend sucks her teeth at your assumption, rolling her eyes but not responding. Soon it's your turn and the two of you make your way onto the famous Disco Pang Pang. You take a seat next to each other, tucking your teddy bear between your thighs, you both grasp onto the handlebars behind your head. “This is going to end badly.” You groan over to your friend. “It’s going to be fun. You wait and see.” You watch with unease as the gate to the entrance of the ride slides close and the stairs lift.

The ride begins to move slowly, and you squeal. “Hold on!” Your friend shouts to you. The ride soon taking speed, spinning rapidly clockwise, stopping, and spinning counterclockwise. You slide forward in your seat and attempt to shove yourself back just as the ride begins to hop up and down. You tighten your grip on the grab bars, your sweaty hands betraying you. “I can't hold on!” You shout to your friend. “You got this!” She shouts back. You groan quietly to yourself, the ride jumping quickly and spinning right after, causing your grip to come loose.

You gasp, feeling your butt come up off the seat and flop onto the ground, sliding to the center of the ride. Your stuffed teddy keeps gliding down, your body rolling clockwise with the quick spin of the ride. You can’t help but yelp, trying but failing to reach out to your friend. The ride seems to be moving faster and the faces surrounding you begin to blur. You call out to your friend but are unable to make her out.

Suddenly, you feel someone slam against you. You gasp, reaching for the body that’s pressed against yours. “Come I’ll help you.” The cat eyed man in yellow from the toss game says, reaching for your hand. When did he get on the ride? You wonder, reaching for his hand. He begins to shift on hit bottom towards the left, tugging your hand to follow his pattern. You begin to shift on your bum as well, the both of you making a slow and steady pace. Soon in the distance you see his friend dressed in baby blue, reaching his hand out.

“Oh, thank goodness." You whisper to yellow. His long, large hand reaching desperately for his friend. Their fingertips touch and soon their palms and you take in a deep breath in excitement. “Ahhh!” Yellow shouts, his hand slipping with a quick whip of the ride counter clockwise. The two of you rolling atop each other back to the center of the ride. “Oof.” Your breath escapes you as you land on top of Yellow. “I guess we got too excited.” He chuckles, pulling you close when the ride hops up and down then back around clockwise. “What now?” You ask. He smirks. “We just enjoy the ride.”

You swallow hard when he tucks an arm behind his head, lying flat on his back, allowing the ride to bounce him about. He pulls your body close to his with his free arm, resting it around your waist. “I’m Yoongi by the way.” He shouts, rubbing the exposed flesh of your hip. “Y/N,” you shout back. In that moment, even with your bodies sliding side to side and lifting off the ground, you can't seem to see anything else but each other. It isn't until your respective friends come to collect you both that you even realize, the ride has stopped moving. Your friend tugs you along, away from Yoongi and his friend in blue. You can't help but keep looking back towards him. “Come on Y/N, I'm hungry.” Your friend whines.

You make your way down the steps of the ride when you feel a tap on your shoulder. “We’re headed to the mirror maze. Wanna come with?” Yoongi asks. Your mouth falls open and your friend interjects. “We were just going to grab some food but thanks anyway.” Yoongi smirks, not taking his eyes off you. “I’d love to.” You say without warning. Yoongi nods, reaching out a hand for you to take. “Y/N, I'm hungry.” Your friend whines. “I’m Jungkook and I can eat.” He gives a sweet bunny smile. Your friends eyes light up and tucks her arm into Jungkook's lifted one. He soon swoops her away. “I’ll call you when we’re done.” She waves, walking off. You wave back, turning to fac Yoongi. “Shall we?” He reaches his hand out again. You nod, taking it and allowing him to lead you to the house of mirrors. You both walk around, laughing and pointing at the shapes you make in the mirrors.

“Do you come here often?” You ask. He chuckles. “Not really. I don’t really like rides. They make me sick, but JK loves them, and he really wanted to try the Disco Pang Pang so, here I am.” “AH, I hate rides also as I'm sure you could tell from how quickly I fell of the Disco Pang Pang.” Yoongi laughs. “Yeah, you're really weak huh. I mean you flew off so quick.” “Hey! You fell off too so don’t poke fun.” “Actually, I let go so I could talk to you.” He gives a tight smile, soon looking down. “Wait, what?” “Yeah, “He shrugs, “I wanted to talk to you at the ball toss, but I get shy, so I figured saving the damsel in distress was a better option.” “You’re too adorable.” You whisper. His cheeks flush at your compliment. “No way. Watching you flop around like a scared fish was adorable.” You swat his arm, turning into the mirror maze, jumping at your own reflection.

He chuckles at your reaction, turning quickly and walking into a mirror reflecting the next hallway. “Ha!” You shout, laughing hard at his mistake. “I meant to do that.” He shakes his head in annoyance. “I think it's this way.” You point to the right. He shrugs, waving down the hallway. “After you.” You shake your head, walking down the hallway and into another dead end. “Shit. We’re stuck.” “Seems so. I mean we can just walk backwards.” He notes. “Or we can sit here until we are rescued.” You plop down on the floor, looking up at the handsome man in yellow. “Uh, we could be here for hours.” “My friend would never let me be lost for hours.” “Uh, with JK, she’s already forgotten you exist.” You giggle at the thought. “Well, what do you want to do to pass the time?” “Escape.” He smiles, turning to walk off. “Wait! Don’t leave me!” You shout, hopping up to follow him. You begin to walk back towards the way you came in. “You know this will be the second time I save you today. Which means I get a second date no?” You laugh at his brazenness. “Is that how you think this works?” “Well, I mean, it would be nice.” He pouts. “You’re beautiful you know that,” You note, “I haven't been able to stop staring at you.” He stops walking and looks over at you. “You know, I was thinking the same thing about you.”

Your breath hitches at his words, getting stuck in your throat when you realize he’s leaning in for a kiss. His mouth is soft, warm, inviting. He commands the kiss with ease, starting with gentle pecks and working up to breath taking tongue swirling. You moan into his mouth, digging your hand into the soft locks at the nape of his neck. You wrap your arm around his neck now, deepening the kiss. His hands begin to travel to your lower back until he drops them low, tucking them into your back pockets. You moan again at the feeling of his erection against your thigh, trying to catch your breath when he pulls away. “Sorry,” He whispers, “I’m getting too carried away.” “Not at all.” You whisper back, reaching down to palm him through his jeans. HIs cheeks flush and mouth falls open. “We- we’re in public.” He pants. You look around. “I don’t see a public anywhere. Just stay quiet.” You wink, lowering to your knees before him.

He chuckles nervously. “You don’t have to.” “I know but I want to. You were so brave today.” You bite your lip, unzipping his jeans. “Fuck.” He whispers, looking around again. You release his weeping cock, licking at the dripping tip. “We’re gonna get caught and arrested!” He covers his gaping mouth to keep from squealing, watching you wrap your mouth around his tip. His head drops back but only for a moment, his eyes scattering about the mirrors that surround you. “This is so fucking hot.” He praises, his hand falling into your hair. You suckle gently on his tip, reveling in the hushed moans that leave his lips. You relax your throat, taking his full length to the back of your throat. He whimpers at the feeling, his free hand slapping against one of the mirrors to keep him steady. You bob back and forth along his length effortlessly, picking up your pace, loving the hissing sounds that escape his pout. His grip in your hair tightens and you pull him out of your mouth. “You can guide me if you want.” You look up at him. His lust filled eyes widen and he nods. You smirk, turning your attention back to his reddened length. You bob on his tip first before taking all of him again. He moans out loud this time, his hand tangling in your locks. He wastes no time guiding you along his length, his hips hitching forward to meet your pace.

“This feels so fucking good. I’m not going last much longer.” He warns. You hum around him, and he groans at the feeling, speeding his thrusts in your mouth. You hollow out your mouth, relaxing your throat as much as possible so he can find purchase there. “Uhh, oh wow. I’m gonna cum. This feels so good.” You hum around him again, his thigh tensing. You bob faster, gripping his ass to pull him into your face. “Oh, oh. Fuck!” He shouts, yanking his cock from your throat and turning to spill his seed onto the floor. He jerks his cock slowly, his head falling back, until every drop is spent. You lick your swollen lips, standing now. He tucks himself away, turning and moving into your body for a kiss. “I need to return the favor.” He says with a kiss. Your eyes light up. “I wonder what that would feel like on the Disco Pang Pang?” You giggle. “Shit! You little freak. I don’t have any cash on me, but I’ll gladly hit an ATM to pay the operator off and make your dream come true.” You laugh heartily. “I’m not kidding. Let’s get the hell out of here. I need your legs wrapped around my face and now!” He wiggles his eyebrows, taking your hand to lead you out. “You’re crazy!” You shout. “Crazy about you!” He stops, pulling you into another kiss.

[albatris]

hellooo i am once again in your inbox with my little rental car questions. am i getting annoying yet? i can stop lmao

for the songs: nat! quinn! alex! lloyd!! yvonne!! any of them or all of them or whatever you like!!

(also i noticed some of ur ATDAO content and am intrigued by Kai's song vibe too)

(don't feel pressured to answer all/any of this lol, its a Lot)

hello hello hello!! thank you as always for ur little rental car questions, I am often very slow at answering them but they make me go ":D" every time, so.... :D!! (also no no no, you're not getting annoying, you're fine ahaha)

so, I have already a few requests for Nat and Quinn tunes waiting in my inbox, so I'll be scattering my Nat and Quinn tunes across a couple of different asks....... or maybe I'll just bunch them all together...... yes either way, if you're keen for tunes I can tag you in those too :P BUT I will give you one for each of them here as well because I am kind and benevolent

I have no Lloyd or Yvonne tunes yet unfortunately............ but I am on the hunt for some so maybe I'll find some soon..... I have Alex tunes over here in a previous ask! and I will offer you some Kai tunes...... and then perhaps I will throw in a few Greeble tunes also?

FAIR WARNING this will be a lot of words, I am so sorry, I forgot to mention how Asking About Music would open this floodgate, this is something you have not witnessed yet but lots of my other mutuals have.... I Love To Ramble and this is a topic that I am incapable of shutting up about

under the cut because.... yeah. sorry sorry sorry

so first up is Nat, n I will offer you “When I Was Done Dying” by Dan Deacon, which is.......... not the MOST Nat tune, but is a funky little song that can go both at the very start and the very end of the playlist, though I opted to put it at the end c: it’s a song with a lot of bonkers imagery and thematically ties conveniently into both Nat’s first and final appearances..... plus the line “And the Earth looked at me and said ‘Wasn’t that fun?’ / And I replied ‘I’m sorry if I hurt anyone’” hurts me in my heart and is just such a sad note to end on

next is Quinn, n I will offer you “Metaphor” by The Crane Wives! this was the very very first Quinn song I added to the playlist, as soon as I got Quinn’s vibe pinned down I was like “oh yeah lmao this song is perfect”. it conjures up the nice little image of someone who’s adept at sweet-talking and truth-twisting and manipulation, perhaps because it’s all they know how to do, perhaps because it’s a defense mechanism and survival tactic...... the tone of the song is not particularly distressed though..... like..... it’s a shifty, shady song but also “Don’t look too hard, ‘cause you won’t like the scars he left in me” is a little oof and gives the whole thing just a sprinkle of seasoning in terms of Why Quinn Is The Way Quinn Is. plus the brief shift to “I can’t trust a single thing you say” is a nice dash of that fear and defensiveness too :3

anyway yes, I have lots more Nat n Quinn tunes on the way in various different flavours including Nat-And-Quinn Combined Tunes and Greeble-Nat tunes

NOW FOR KAI TUNES THOUGH

oh, I could talk about ATDAO sounds forever, my ATDAO playlist is a 14-and-a-half-hour monstrosity that I have so much fun with also I do have an entire Kai playlist from back when I was making individual character playlists

anyway, here’s some for Kai I plucked out for you!

“The House” by Air Traffic Controller! such a delightful little bop and is exactly the vibe for the Lancaster household of Kai’s younger years c: though a lot of the specific details in the song aren’t the same as specific details of Kai’s life, the energy is perfect! Kai had a fantastic home life and such an energetic and loving family, n I mean...... things got SUPER messy post-time-loop because Kai’s family thought Kai was dead and things completely fell apart and they’ve spent seven years trying to claw their way back to normality...... so yes this song is very good but also Ouch in comparison to Kai’s current loneliness and complicated family situation

“Someone New” by Hozier is one of my favourite Kai tunes!! lots of love to go round here, perfectly encapsulating Kai’s boisterous personality and tendency to collect friends wherever they go (the stranger the better, yes), n the deep love they have for humanity as a whole.... they are the type of person to fall in love with strangers on the bus dfkjfsdf

“The Record Player Song” by Daisy the Great is an EXCELLENT Kai song but one I only trust in my own hands..... like, it’s a good character song but only ‘cause I have the necessary background and nuance to handle it....... I can come at it from the right angle.... but it needs a mention, yes

anyway, this one is here for.... a deep-seated terror of your own motives and the fear that you’re not a good person..... the alienation and detachment from your sense of self and the people you’re supposed to care about.... which is a great source of distress for Kai, who’s always been deeply compassionate and caring

they spend a lot of the story dealing with extremely undiagnosed depersonalisation/derealisation disorder due to Time Loop Trauma and constantly feel as if the world around them isn’t real, that they’re not real, n feeling so disconnected from their own emotions.... plus they’re scared shitless the only reason they try so hard to care so much about people is because deep down they don’t actually care about anything at all

choice lyrics include

“I don’t really love you / I just said that for a change of pace / I’m sorry, sometimes I don’t recognise my face”

and “I need a dictionary / Someone look me up and define me / Please remind me who I’m supposed to be around you / So you will do what I want you to”

and “Sometimes I think all I’m ever doing is trying to convince myself I’m alive”

just.......... oh, go to therapy, kid, you’re not a terrible person you’re a good, kind, loving person who’s been through a fuckload of trauma and needs help dealing with all this terror and guilt you’ve been carrying round

technically “Wander. Wonder.” by The Arcadian Wild fills the same role in the playlist, lots of terror, lots of alienation and isolation and disconnectedness, but this song IS allowed in other people’s hands (it is also an exceptionally good Kai song, probably the top one) (Tris also makes a tangential appearance in this song ahaha)

also it would be a crime for me not to mention "Wobbly” by Ezra Furman for Kai of course :3

and finally............................. two Greeble tunes........ only for the Greeble on its own, I have a handful of VERY good Nat-Greeble tunes lined up for a different ask

“SPRORGNSM” by Superorganism! just a funky little hivemind bop! and also The Bedquilt Ramblers’ cover of “This World Is Not My Home” which........ sad sad human centre-of-the-Garble vibes

like, man, this guy made some TRULY atrocious choices but I do feel bad for him. he was an idiot, yes. but he deserves some rest at long long long last. everyone deserves some rest eventually

anyway thanks for........................ letting me ramble....... I apologise for the........... incredibly lengthy ramble..... please have a SPLENDID day

[retrievablememories]

the second time around | jaehyun

title: the second time around pairing: jaehyun x reader genre: fluff, some angst request: “Hi! Here’s a suggestion for a story or add-on to another story you wrote. I really liked moonlight w/ jaehyun! Could you do a follow up with him not seeing her for awhile and him (and her secretly) being pissed about it but wants to reconnect with her but outside of being a customer. Ty and keep up the good work with your writing.” word count: 2.9k warnings: a couple mentions of sex a/n: hmm...the sequel to moonlight...sequels are scary to write but here we are lol. this could’ve been posted last sunday really but i’ve been stalling oof

Despite getting Jaehyun’s number after that night at the strip club, you’ve seen and heard a lot less of him than you’d like. On his end, Jaehyun isn’t so pleased about losing touch either, but you wouldn’t know that with the lack of communication.

Both of you are ultimately busy with your own lives, and it’s not like he can just drop in whenever he wants to visit you. Not just because he’s busy, but also because of where you work. The men keep their visits to the club on a once-a-month basis for a reason—to avoid tipping off any stalkers who’d find out and leak their whereabouts.

You’ve texted each other a few times since your first meeting, and you enjoyed the conversations you got to have within that timespan, but the time between responses kept getting longer—on both of your ends—until things eventually dropped off.

You were unhappy about this, though you tried not to be so obvious about it to the other girls. Getting attached to customers was not a good look. Even if they were handsome and nice and had good dick.

However, Anya was the first to notice your slightly sour mood despite your best efforts to project an unphased demeanor. And, being her usual nosy self, she managed to pry it out of you before you could even think about denying it.

“Don’t stress about it,” she’d told you on the night you finally spilled the beans. She’d wrapped her arms around your shoulders and tipped your chin up, making you hold your head up higher and look at yourself in the mirror reflection facing you. “There will be many more men where he came from. And if you don’t wanna deal with any more men right now, that’s fine too. He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on, anyway.”

“I’m not stressing over it,” you’d argued, sighing. “We don’t stress over men who aren’t boyfriends, remember?”

Anya grinned then, though you could tell it was the kind of smile you give when a friend is doing something they shouldn’t be—or indulging in something they think is good for them when it’s not. “Duh. But you might wanna start following your own advice if you’re gonna be dishing it out!” And then she’d gone off to do her own thing, probably to finish getting ready for her set later that night or to go bother one of her favorite bartenders.

You’d looked at yourself in the mirror more closely, frowning at the truthfulness of her statement and wishing you had not been quite so easy to read. You’d had a show right after that, which allowed you to take your mind off the mess for at least a few hours. But in the small moments when you weren’t thinking about work or school or anything else you had to do, Jaehyun crept back into your mind like a specter, wanting you to acknowledge him even though you weren’t getting the same.

When you head out to the parking lot after a particularly long night, you slow your steps when you see a man leaning against his car, his cap pulled over his eyes and his head low. In any other scenario, you probably would’ve alerted one of the bouncers, thinking he was some creep waiting until after your stage to try to corner you in a shady area. However, you hold off on calling anybody because you can clearly recognize him even if he thinks he’s being inconspicuous—it’s Jaehyun.

He lifts his head when he hears your shoes on the ground, and his lips turn up into something of a smile.

“If you wanted another dance, you’re a bit late. We just closed,” you say jokingly, raising an eyebrow at him. Jaehyun shakes his head.

“Tempting idea, but that’s not what I came here for.” He turns to face you fully now, observing you in your casual, after-work clothes. In the back of your mind, you realize this is the first time he’s seen you outside the context of performing. Then he sighs. “It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you.”

“I know.” Your familiar irritation rises again. Sure, maybe him coming to see you or you going to see him more often isn’t feasible. A text or a call, though...would be decidedly less effort, and not difficult to do. You’re not sure whether to be more irritated with him or yourself about not trying to reach out again, though you decide to aim your annoyance at him just because you can.

Jaehyun nods to your agreement. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been fine,” you say. “Work is...work. It has its ups and downs. How are you? Busy with the idol life?”

Jaehyun sighs. “Yeah...it just gets…stressful sometimes.” He bites his lip and shakes his head, seeming bothered about whatever’s going on with his job but not wanting to say much more about it.

“I’m sure,” you respond, and you don’t really know what to say afterwards. It’s been a while since either of you talked, and it’s strangely hard to try to pick up where you left off as if nothing happened. Jaehyun realizes this, too, and appears distressed at not knowing how to keep the conversation going with you—and possibly wasting your time.

You nod to yourself and shift on your feet. “Well, the Uber will probably be here soon, so—”

“I don’t know what things will look like between us, but I don’t want us to fall out of contact again,” Jaehyun blurts out, then winces. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just...don’t want either of us to leave before we...sort this out, I guess.”

You think to yourself, wondering if this is really worth trying to pursue. You’ve yet to deal with a man with the level of fame that Jaehyun has, yet with such a strict image to keep, which makes things exponentially more complicated. But despite your apprehension, you still want to know where this could lead. After a moment, you say, “Well, if you’re willing...I’d like the same.”

Jaehyun nods and stands up a little straighter, like that response just gave him the energy he needed. “Do you wanna….go somewhere? Just to like, hang out.” His proposition is abrupt, and you didn’t expect it. 

“Now?” You check your phone, and it’s 18 minutes past 2 a.m. There aren’t too many places that will still be open at this hour, other than establishments similar to your line of work, but you aren’t in the mood for any more of that tonight. Your driver, too, is only a few minutes away, but you already find yourself with your finger hovering over the Cancel button. “We could.”

Jaehyun goes around to the passenger side of the car and opens the door for you. You get into his car, noting its sleek interior. Once he gets in, he asks you what you want to hear, and you notice he’s looking through his Spotify. You shrug.

“I don’t know. Show me something you like,” you say. You cringe at sounding so disinterested, which makes you realize you might just be a little more upset about being ghosted than you thought you were. You almost want to curse at how this dude is taking you off your usual game. “I mean, I like hearing new music anyway, so…”

Jaehyun starts the car and grins slightly. “Alright, then let me show you the best of the best…” You both end up listening and vibing to a playlist he’s made, which is good. Not that you didn’t expect it to be, but you end up liking most of the songs he shows you, which usually doesn’t happen with other people’s playlists.

Jaehyun ends up taking you to an ice cream place that’s still open this late, to your surprise. The sitting area inside the store is closed, though they’ve kept the drive-thru open for late-night travelers like yourselves who want a quick treat. You don’t question it, though; you definitely won’t pass up a chance for some ice cream.

You end up eating the ice cream while sitting in his car and listening to the rest of his playlist. Neither of you say much other than commenting on the songs or talking about your favorite ice cream flavors or making other non-committal small talk. You kind of prefer it this way, at least for the moment—just listening to the music and watching the headlights and taillights of cars that pass by.

You and Jaehyun ride around the city for a while longer after finishing the ice cream, not intending to go anywhere in particular but just coasting on the highways. It might be an excuse to keep listening to this new playlist he’s put on, or maybe more reason to pretend that awkward period between you never happened. Acknowledging it in a way, but not speaking any life into it. 

Eventually, though, it has to arise back to the surface. Jaehyun taps his fingers against the steering wheel at a red light, like he’s impatient to get somewhere, and you wonder what he’s feeling until he comes out and says,

“I think it was...ultimately my fault for not contacting you more. Or not trying to stay in contact.”

The words hang in the air for a moment. “Well, I won’t argue with that,” you finally respond.

“It’s just hard to get close to anyone and be an idol at the same time. Sometimes I sabotage myself when I shouldn’t, and…” He trails off, though you don’t know whether he’s searching for the words or has decided to leave his sentence at that.

“You’d rather not be embarrassed by dating a stripper, or something along those lines?” Your tone is nonchalant, though you’re a little bothered by saying it. He wouldn’t be the first or the last person to feel some type of way about your job, though you’ve mostly gotten used to the judgment at this point.

Jaehyun seems a bit startled by the statement. “If you like doing it, then I don’t care what you do. You should live your life however you want to.”

“I see,” you say slowly. “Most men I meet outside of the club are not receptive to it, so you ain’t gotta lie if you feel some other way about it, seriously...”

“I’m serious,” he insists. “You told me that day that you liked it, and I believed you. I just think...we should all be able to do things we enjoy without worrying about what others think of it.”

Jaehyun turns to look at you for a moment, and his features are lit up by the street light as it turns green. His face, which is simultaneously painted with shadows and glowing with light, appears to be just as genuine as he sounds. Or maybe this late-night atmosphere just has you feeling more receptive and sentimental than usual. Then he broaches the next subject carefully, steering you back to where the conversation began. “You didn’t text me anymore, either.”

“I figured you’d moved on or something, maybe started talking to someone else…” you reply. “And, you know, if that was the case...so be it. There wouldn’t be a point to chasing someone who wasn’t interested anymore.”

“I am interested.” Jaehyun rushes the words out, like he’s eager to dispel the uncertainty before you get the wrong idea; not that that hasn’t already happened, but still. It isn’t too late to change your mind. “I want to like, know you as a person...not just while being a customer at the club, or something like that.”

You nod, looking at your hands and considering his words. “We can do that...yeah, we can.” Then you hold your hand out to him, a grin playing on your lips. “Nice to meet you, then. I’m Y/N.”

He smiles too, and takes your hand in one of his. “I’m Jaehyun.”

The conversation after that seems to reach a turning point, like somehow you’ve broken the ice and can finally talk to each other on a deeper level without worrying about the issue that’s been lingering over your heads all night. You think you could talk to him like this for hours if you wanted to, if there was enough time in the world for it. 

Unfortunately, though, you don’t have as much time as you’d like, and once it starts edging on 4 AM, you both decide it’s probably best to call it a night. Jaehyun takes you back to your apartment after you tell him where it is.

He parks in front of the apartment complex, and you’re prepared to thank him for the night and get out, but he insists on walking you up to your apartment—something about it being too dangerous for women to walk alone at night.

“It’s not that far.” You laugh, but you aren’t going to argue about it if it means getting a few more moments with him.

Jaehyun follows you up the steps after you both get out of the car. You walk a little slower to prolong the moment, but eventually you have to get up to your apartment door. You also take your time with taking your keys out of your bag and putting them in the lock. And maybe you’re not as slick as you thought, because Jaehyun notices. He laughs quietly behind you, but the sound isn’t low enough to escape your hearing.

You turn around to look at him, your hand on the doorknob. “Well, I guess that’s it. Thanks for the ride...and for the ice cream, you know.”

He nods, and one of his dimples pokes out. “You didn’t have to entertain me tonight, but I’m glad you did...so, thanks.”

Both of you linger in your doorway for a few more moments. Jaehyun wants to come in, and you know it, but you also know he probably won’t say it because he technically shouldn’t. His members are expecting him back at the dorm. He doesn’t want to impose, and he didn’t even bring any extra clothes. But you know he wants to come in, and you want it, too.

You tilt your head to the side. “Would it be bad if I asked you to stay?” you say tentatively.

A slow smile spreads on his face. “No, it wouldn’t.”

You open the door wider so he can step inside and take his shoes off at the entrance. You lead him to your living room by the hand. “What do you wanna do?” you ask, looking at him imploringly. You want to be sure you’re both on the same page concerning your intentions.

“Whatever you wanna do,” he echoes, holding your hand a bit tighter. You expect to see lust or some similar desire in his expression and had already figured you might end up having sex again tonight, but his eyes expect nothing from you. He only smiles in the dim light of your apartment and waits for you to make the next move.

You laugh, and it comes out as an airy chuckle. “Well, then...I want to lay down. It’s been a long day.” From your tone, Jaehyun understands that you really just want to lie down and not think about much of anything else right now. He follows you when you lead him into your bedroom and sits patiently on your bed while you go to the bathroom to change into your night clothes. You’re thankful you already took a shower at the club, because you’re not sure you’d have the energy to do all that now.

He’s taken his jeans off when you come back into the room, though he still keeps his shirt on. You get onto the bed and lean over him, hooking your finger into the collar of his shirt, and he looks up at you. “You can take this off if you want, I don’t care.”

“Is this you saying you want to see me shirtless?” He grins, though he readily takes the invitation and pulls his shirt off, placing it to the side along with his pants.

You shake your head good-naturedly, a smile on your face. “I promise it’s innocent…but the view never hurts.”

You peel the sheets back and you both climb underneath them, lying across from each other and looking at each other like you want to say something more but aren’t sure what. There isn’t much light in the room except for the street lights coming from your bedroom window, muted slightly by the blinds.

Jaehyun laughs suddenly, breaking the silence, and you do the same. You’re not sure why either of you are laughing, but you do so anyway, simply enjoying the moment for what it is. After your laughter dies down, he takes your hand from where it’s resting on the pillow and slips his pinky around yours. “I’ll try not to lose you this time.”

You lean a little closer to his face so you can plant a kiss on his lips—just a short and soft touch. He tastes like ice cream, and somehow you know there will be many more kisses like this in the future. “You better not.”

[thevoilinauttheory]

Fire

[ FFxivWrite2021 Prompt 2: Aberrant ]

The Five Part “In the Dreams of Ashley” series is done! Go read the others here! {Prelude} {In the Dreams of Ashley: The Wind} {In the Dreams of Ashley: The Fire} {In the Dreams of Ashley: The Water} {In the Dreams of Ashley: The Earth}

[ HEAVY CONTENT WARNINGS - THIS PIECE IS TO EXPLORE ONE OF MY DEEPEST FEARS CONTAINING: mentions of death/blood, regrets surrounding said death, nightmares, detailed suffocation, detailed description of burning to death, suicidal ideation ]

[ also decided to do a music theme this month and all of these will have musical accompaniment lol ]

To dream that you or someone is being burned alive suggests that you are being consumed by your own ambition. To dream that you are being burned by fire indicates that your temper is getting out of control. Some issue or situation is burning up inside you. If you are setting a fire to something or even to yourself, then it indicates that you are undergoing some great distress. You are at the brink of desperation and want to destroy something or some aspect of yourself.

==

“So how did you even get here?” Ashley shoved a dumpling into his mouth, having yanked it from the pot as soon as he realized it was ready. Ruta had set up a fire, a large heavy pot on top of it, filled to the brim with broth and vegetables. He didn’t question where she got it, or even how she carried it - though common sense dictated that she borrowed the pot from the fishermen in Isari, as well as bought the food; they *were* set up right outside it, of course.

“Hm?” Ruta had her mouthful already, slurping up what noodles were left in her mouth. It took her a good minute to finish chewing so she could talk; and in that time, Ashley had already taken to swishing thin slices of fish around until they were cooked enough to eat.

“Y’know, get here. Back in the cells, you said you were from Kugane… but, uh… no offense, but.” “Because I’m Xaelic?” “...Yeah, sorry. That’s rude of me to point out.” Ruta only laughed. “Yeah… I left that part of me in the Steppes. I was capable, but… I thought, as a kid, if they’re gonna leave me tied up to a tree, I might as well go my own way. What’s to say that it’s not going to happen again?” “Tied to a tree? Oof, that’s rough.” “Made it all the way to Kugane and ran into some nice folks who thought ‘who in the hells let this child run around on her own!’.” She laughed. “They adopted me. Real nice people.” “They still with you?” ”Hope so, it’s been a few years.”

He stared at the flames, leaning back on his hands after he filled himself up on food - thinking about her words, how everyone he knew would have moved on with their lives without him. “Where’re Colette ‘n’Hunter? They’ve been gone a while.” “I think they went ahead to scout for a boat. We gotta leave in the dead of night, if we want a chance at getting past those pirates. You know how to swim?” “Uuhh… I’m gonna say “I’ll figure it out”.” He laughed. “Grew up in a desert, don’t really have time to learn to swim.” “You might have to! If we have to jump off the boat and swim our way there. I’m sure Hunter wouldn’t mind dragging you with him - guy loves to swim.” “Does he?” “I mean… he’s told me as much, at least.” “Hm.” That grin on her face only told him how much she was judging him. “What! Leave me alone! Stop staring like that, gods, it’s weird.”

==

“Don’t y’think you’ve been “retired” long enough?” Ashley leaned back in his chair and kicked his legs up on the table in front of him; he stuck the tiniest crumb of paper under his tongue, then closed his eyes. “Nope.” “Kid, you have to *move on*. Shite like this? This happens all the time - you’ve been sheltered way too long--” “Who died and made you th’boss of my life, huh? If I’ve been sheltered, then y’leave me to be the little bitch I am until I’m *ready* to “move on”. You haven’t experienced what I have. I haven’t experienced what you have.” “How’re you going to make any money to live with an attitude like that.” “Off my savings? My life ain’t your business - you can either sit here and enjoy a drink with me, or you can piss off. I don’t care either way, I ain’t working yet.”

==

He didn’t really need the road down memory lane - but it helped ease the pain, just for a little bit. His boots crunched over the shells and rocks that made up the shores of the Ruby Sea, staring at the water as he strolled. He had always questioned why they had referred to it as “ruby”, there was nothing as brilliant or red about it… back then, of course. He had taken its beauty for granted. The crimson kelp that made up the depths against the sparkling reflections from the sun, everything was so… peaceful. To a degree. He couldn’t account for the Garlean control over the area, and had to be on his toes because of it, but it was nice.

He wished his friends were around to witness it - it was dark when they were able to see it, if one could even call it “seeing”, as much as it was a black pit of unknown they were diving into.

He made a stop in Crick - he wasn’t necessarily welcome, but he wasn’t unwelcome either. They regarded him with impassiveness there, letting him relax as he wished or needed to - which happened to be in front of a fire with a pot attached to it, boiling water. How much longer could he stand to be here? The memories were starting to hurt now, they ached, and suddenly he felt ill to his stomach. That was when he decided it was best to leave, standing up to turn back the way he came - watching the ocean once more with the unevenness of the shore beneath his feet yet again.

There was a fisher’s boat floating in the middle, a small Auri woman casting out a line with a basket of fish next to her. Living a carefree, or… mostly carefree life. Living life as she could, and it seemed she was doing well enough. She turned her head and made accidental eye-contact with him-- those eyes, that face.

“Ruta?” He questioned softly, then smiled brightly and waved. “Ruta! You’re safe! Gods be!” As he watched the woman wave back, his vision blackened - flashes of the body of his fallen friend bleeding out on top of her girlfriend’s, looking behind him as he ran.

The next he knew were flames - and only flames. His whole body was searing, the heat too much for his skin. He tried to pull his foot from the ground, to try and run for the ocean, but he could not move. He stayed in place and it only seemed like the relief of water got further and further away the more he longed for it. It started with his legs, that’s where his eyes turned to next. One foot stood solid in the slowly creeping fount of lava, threatening to take the next one over. What happened? How did he get here? There was no way he would have done this of his own volition, was there? But no, he did - he stepped right into it, a wonder, no, a *knowing* of what the consequence would bring. A solace in knowing that this would be the price he paid for his inadequacies.

Even as he tried to change his mind - tried to scream for help that could not hear him, the fire climbed only higher. All he could do was cry out in pain as he watched his clothes set ablaze, and his skin begin to blacken and peel. The pain of it all, the searing pain of his skin melting from his bones wasn’t even the worst of it; it was the agony of seeing it happen slowly - the scent of the hairs and flesh charring; the popping, bubbling, cracking noises that followed until he was swallowed whole by it. Each scream, each breath, he was forced to swallow the flames until they choked him - then each cough cooked his lungs; his vision was nothing but reds and oranges until it had gone black, and what was left of him could only fall to try and drag itself to an escape out of pure need for survival. Only to be overtaken by the slow and searing pain of pure fire covering the entirety of his body - the last he heard was not the crackling of his bones like tinder, but the paddles of a boat hitting the still water as it passed right by him.

==

His awakening was a slow one this time, feeling the tears that had dried against his cheek. He woke up next to the flames of the dying fire, left alone by the people of the town around him. He was disoriented, confused. When it finally settled that it was a nightmare, he let out a heavy and relieved sigh.

Not quite the same as the last, but no less painful and terrifying.

[love-and-monsters]

Mermaid Girlfriend

F monster X GN human, 2,796 words.

No story next week because it’s Christmas and I have shit to do. 

It’s winter, and that means your girlfriend is moving in with you for the first time.

A ripple passed through the surface of the murky pond. You readjusted your position on the slick, slime-covered rocks that jutted out from the water. “If you splash me, I swear…”

An enormous tail emerged from the water and slapped down threateningly close to you. You flinched back as a few drops of freezing water landed on your face. Raspy laughter echoed in your head. “I didn’t. Water barely touched you.”

“Look, I’m trying to help you, all right? No need to be a pain about it.” You unhooked the small bottle from your waist and crouched, careful not to let your feet slip off the rocks. They were so wet and covered in lichen and pond scum that it was like trying to stay balanced on a piece of ice. “Where’d you go?”

There was a ripple to your left and you turned to look at it. The motion threw off your balance. One of your feet slipped. You windmilled your arms frantically, but it was no use. One of your heels slipped down off the rock and you could feel yourself overbalancing.

A cold, soaking wet hand pressed to the small of your back. You wobbled, carefully readjusting your position as the hand steadied you until you felt safe again. “Thanks,” you said, taking deep breaths to slow your hammering heart.

Your girlfriend lifted her head from the water and gave you a sharp-toothed smile. “No problem, babe. You brought the stuff?”

“Yep.” You passed over the little bottle. It was amazing how much it resembled pond scum while still being safe to consume. It was a deep green color, with chunks of plant matter floating among the liquid. You were pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to get it down without gagging, but Nessa took it with no sign of revulsion. She swirled it around at eye level, then popped the top and sniffed it.

“You gave them an exact ingredient list, right?” she said. You nodded.

“Of course. Made sure there were no substitutions or anything.” She took a little sip from the bottle, swishing it in her mouth and then swallowed. “Good?”

“Good,” she said. “I think. We’ll know for sure if I down the whole thing and I keel over.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Don’t even joke about that.” Wobbling, you got back to your feet and headed toward the shore. Nessa swam next to you, gliding far more easily through the water than you were managing on land.

You gave a sigh of relief when you landed back on shore. Nessa carefully pulled herself out of the water. You took a moment to watch as she heaved herself up onto the bank, appreciating the strong, rippling motion of her arm muscles. She caught your eye and grinned.

It took significant effort to pull the entire length of her body out of the water. From the waist up, she was roughly human, though her skin was greenish-blue and there were fins on her arms. From the waist down, she had an enormous tail, layered with beautiful fins. Altogether, she was a massive ten feet from head to tail tip.

“Oof,” she groaned as she managed to pull the majority of her body out of water. Her tail still trailed in the water, but it had been hard enough to pull herself up as far as she had, and anyway, she only needed to be mostly on land.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” you asked. “I mean, we can keep doing what we’ve been doing. It doesn’t bother me.”

“Yeah, well, it bothers me,” Nessa said. She stared into the murky liquid in the little jar. “I’m the one who came up with the idea in the first place. It’s not like you’ve been pushing me to do this or anything.”

“Yeah, I know.” You plucked at the sparse grass that grew on the lakeside. “But I still feel a little weird about the whole thing? It’s a big part of you, and you’re just… giving it up?”

“Oh, my depths.” Nessa rolled her eyes. “I’m not giving anything up. It’s a temporary measure. I’ll be able to come back whenever I want. Anyway, I think doing this for the winter is a good idea. You have no idea how shitty this stupid lake is in the winter. Everything freezes, the water gets cold as shit, there’s barely any food- I spend most of the time in a weird daze.”

You fiddled with one of your shirtsleeves. “Are you sure about this?”

“I am! I’ve told you a whole bunch of times. Look.” She pressed the bottle to her mouth and, before you could do anything, she downed the whole thing.

There was a long, silent moment, then she retched. You stared at her in horror. “Is it bad? Should I call a doctor?”

“No, it’s fine. It just takes like garbage,” Nessa said. She stuck her long tongue out. “Disgusting. Like eating pond weed.”

“But you don’t feel bad?” you asked anxiously. “You said this thing can go wrong.”

“If it’s made wrong. But you said you got all the correct ingredients and everything, so it’s probably all right.” Nessa closed her eyes and her brows furrowed. “Ugh.”

“What? What?” you said. Nessa waved a hand at you.

“Hang on. It’s just-” Her muscles all seized and she flopped to the ground. You gave a distressed wail and grabbed at her shoulder. Nessa managed, with a flailing movement, to push you off her and curled in on herself.

The seizing became worse, Nessa shivering all over with the force of it. Then, suddenly, she went entirely limp. Her skin seemed to sag and turn grayish. You stared at her in horror for a moment, then reached out and gently poked her.

The skin shifted under your touch like wet paper. You stared in horror, uncomprehending. No. No, no, no, this couldn’t be happening.

And then, just as you were about to start panicking, Nessa shifted. The skin, which had gone limp and unmoving, rolled like there was something pushing at it from underneath. With a wet noise, the skin sloughed apart.

“Eww!” You leapt back from the body, shaking your hands off in disgust. The skin shifted of its own accord, then fell off to the side.

“It worked!” Nessa cried, pushing herself free from the remains of her old skin. She squirmed fully free and kicked the skin away, toward the water. Now that there was nothing inside it, it seemed to have lost all integrity. It crumpled under her touch, tearing apart before it even made it to the water.

“You look different than I thought you would,” you said. Nessa had told you the potion would make her human, but that didn’t seem to be entirely true. There was some truth to it. She was standing on two legs now, looking perfectly balanced despite her inexperience. She was also smaller than she was before, though still tall. Her legs were long, but they only put her at about six feet in height, rather than ten feet. But the roughly humanoid shape was the only part of her that seemed correct.

Her skin was the same greenish color it had been, with her hair being a much paler shade of green. She still had fins on her arms, and new fins had appeared on her calves. They twitched slightly in the chilly air, folding close to her body. Her teeth were still as sharp as knives and there was an oddly smooth, languid feel to the way she moved. It was like she was swimming through the air, instead of moving like a normal human.

“It worked perfectly!” she said, executing a twirl on one of her new feet.

“Really?” you said, looking at her. “It doesn’t look like it worked perfectly.”

“I’m human,” she said, giving you a questioning look.

“Humans don’t have fins,” you said, giving her a playful poke. Her skin still felt slightly rubbery, much smoother than human skin.

“It’s transformational inertia,” she said. You gave her a blank look. “How well-versed in magic are you?”

“I know that you can use magic to do cool things,” you said. Nessa rolled her eyes and started to shrug on the clothes you’d brought with you. They were a little tight, but she didn’t seem to mind. You didn’t mind all that much either.

“Okay, so not a lot,” she said. “So, when you use a transformation spell, there’s something called transformational inertia. Essentially, it means that when you give a transformation spell to someone, it’s really hard to get them to transform fully, especially if they’re changing into another species. The more different two things are, the harder it is to change one into the other, and you can never have a complete transformation unless it’s permanent. It’s hard to go from mermaid to human, so I just used the potion that would get me closest- I can live on land now, I have legs, all that good stuff.”

“Oh,” you said, nodding. “Okay, I kind of get that.” You gave her a small smile. “Actually, I think I like it better this way.”

Nessa lifted her brows and waggled them. “Yeah? You do?”

“I do,” you said. “I don’t know. When I though you were going to be completely human, I thought it was going to be a little bit… I don’t know, weird? First of all, I was kind of worried that you were going to look like a total stranger, you know? Like, you’d have some similar features, but you were going to look so different I’d have trouble recognizing you. But now you look like yourself, just with legs.”

Nessa nodded. “Makes sense. What’s the other thing?”

You felt your face warm and you rubbed a hand over the back of your neck. “Um. Well. I kind of think the fangs and stuff are cool. It’s kind of, you know. Hot?”

Nessa threw her head back and laughed, clutching her stomach. Your face burned even hotter and you smacked one of her arms. “Hey! Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you,” Nessa said, hurriedly smothering her giggles. “I swear, I’m not. I was laughing because…” She trailed off and gave a half-shrug. “I think humans are really cute too.”

“What?” you said. “Like… what’s cute about us? Our weird flat teeth?”

“No, the teeth are a little weird,” Nessa said with a giggle. “I kind of like the ears, actually.”

You reached one of your hands up, tracing a finger over the curve of your ear. “Our… our ears?”

“They’re all so rounded and cute! Most nonhuman species have pointy ears. Yours are so little and sweet. Just adorable!”

“I guess I never really thought about it,” you said. Nessa made an attempt to skip toward you, misjudged where her feet were supposed to go, and stumbled straight into your arms. You barely had time to brace yourself before she slammed into you, sending the two of you almost falling to the ground.

“Sorry!” she said, although she was laughing too hard to really sound apologetic. “I guess I still have to get used to my legs.” Despite saying that, she didn’t seem eager to stand up again. She swayed into your chest, giggling and poking at your ears.

“Okay, it’s starting to get really cold out here,” you said. “Can we go to the car now? You’re ready to go?”

“Give me a minute,” Nessa said. She turned toward the lake and waved her arm toward it enthusiastically. “Bye, lake! I’ll see you again in the spring.” She turned toward you, hands at her sides. “Okay. Now I’m ready to go with you.”

You offered her a hand and she took it, fingers squeezing tightly around yours. “you’ve never been a car before, have you?” Nessa shook her head.            

“I have no idea what it’s going to be like. Is it kind of like riding the currents?” she asked.

“I haven’t done that, so I can’t say,” you said. Nesssa frowned.

“Guess I’ll find out,” she said.

Nessa pulled at the seatbelt as you fastened it around her. “This is annoying,” she said, giving it a few tugs. The locking mechanism activated and she yelped as the belt went taught. “Hey!”

“You’re not supposed to pull on it,” you said. “It’s supposed to stop you from flying out the windshield if we get into a crash.”

Nessa’s irritated expression melted into one of horror. “Does that happen often?”

“Not often,” you said. “I’m a very safe driver.” Nessa looked at you skeptically. “It’ll be fine. No crashes.”

“Then why do I even have to wear this?” Nessa asked, starting to pull at her seatbelt again.

“Because I can get in trouble if you don’t,” you said, thankful there was some sort of explanation you could give that wouldn’t freak her out. She shrugged, accepting that answer and slouching back in her seat. You started the car and she sat back up. “It’s just the engine starting,” you reassured her. She settled back with a skeptical expression.

The car started down the road. It was mostly dirt, so the car rocked and rattled as you moved. Ness stared out the window as you left the lake behind.

“Doing okay?” you asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Yeah,” Nessa said, still gazing out the window. “It’s interesting. It is a little bit like riding the currents.” She craned her neck as the last bit of the lake vanished into the distance. “Won’t see that again until it gets warm again.”

“You can always go in the bath if you’re really missing it,” you said. “The water’s even heated.”

“It’s not exactly the same,” Nessa said, finally looking away from the window. “But I do appreciate the gesture.”

You took one of your hands off the wheel and reached over to grab her hand. Her palm was incredibly smooth and you could feel her claws gently tapping on the back of your palm. “I’m glad you’re here. I was going to miss you over the winter.”

“I’m glad I’m here too. And it’s really interesting being a human.” Nessa kicked her legs. “It’s actually helping me understand you a lot better. Like. Knees are really annoying.”

“Are you having problems with your knees already?” you asked. “Are you going to have to borrow my knee brace?”

“God, I hope not,” she said. “You complain about your knees so much. I would hate to have the same garbage knees you do.”

You pulled up to your house and hurried around the car to open the door for Nessa. She stepped outside, staring at the building. “Huh. Human houses look different in real life. Really impressive. Merfolk don’t have houses like this.”

“You’ve mentioned,” you said. “Come on. Let’s go inside and I’ll show you around.”

There wasn’t a lot to show- the house was itty bitty, having only about four rooms. There was your bedroom, the bathroom, a little kitchen, and something that you had made into an office and a sitting room. “It’s not that great,” you said. “I know it’s a little cramped, so I hope you don’t mind too much. I know you’re used to having a whole lake.”

Nessa turned toward you and, before you would even process what was happening, she had placed her hands on your face and kissed you. You sighed into her mouth. Even as a human, she tasted a little bit like she had as a merfolk, a sort of pleasant freshness. It was a reassuring, sweet kiss that made your stomach lighten.

“It’s perfect,” she said. “Trust me. It’s nice here. And more than that, you’re here. I love you. I want to spend time with you. So, living in a little house with you is actually really great. We’re going to be together all the time.”

You giggled, resting your forehead against hers. Now that she was human, you were almost the same height- getting up on your tippy-toes put your faces almost level. “I’m going to remind you of that in about two weeks when your tune changes.” You lowered yourself off of your tiptoes and took hold of her hands. “Come on. Let’s get settled, then head to the bedroom. I think you might need a lesson in, uh. Your new anatomy?”

A sly smile crossed Nessa’s face. “Oh, I completely agree. In fact, what do you say we start there?”

You grinned back at her. “I think that’s an excellent idea. Shall we?”

Still laughing together in delight, you headed into the bedroom, the door swinging shut behind you.

[kindajared]

La Famiglia || Choose Your Own Adventure

(HERE IT IS GUYS!) 4k words!

Fuck. Your head throbbed. Your eyes were still closed as you pressed your fingers to your forehead. It must have been bruised. Maybe you hit your head? You opened your eyes, blinking to get used to the lighting of the world you. Your vision was blurry. You rubbed your eyes. What you saw was not familiar.

You were in an alley. In the shadow of two buildings. It was daylight out, the sun shone brightly in the sky. It smelled weird, there were a few garbage cans around you. That explained it.

You were sat down on the pavement, leaned up against a brick wall. You rested your hand back on it, feeling its texture. Where were you? You had yet to ask yourself.

You stood yourself up, dizzy. You groaned. Your head hurt like a bitch. You used the wall for support. You had to rest a moment before you pushed yourself off the wall, stepping into the middle of the alleyway. You let out a long breath as you struggled to walk out into the light. You blocked the sun with your palm. What you saw before you was most definitely a place you hadn’t been before. The people seemed different too. You took a moment to take everything in. You then realized they were speaking Italian. Heh? Why are they speaking Italian?

You stepped out onto the sidewalk and were immediately bumped into.

“Watch it, idiota.”

“Scusi!”

Wait…Scusi? Was that Italian? You meant to apologize in English, but instead that was what came out. Soon enough, the words that people were saying were clear to you. You understood every word. There were so many things you were questioning at this point. It was wearing you out.

You grabbed your forearm where the man bumped you. It was sore. The only thing you could do was continue to walk around. Cars passed you by as you walked, you were looking at your feet, not the best idea. You ended up running into someone else. You looked up just in time to head face first into their chest.

“Oof!”

You began to stumble backwards, but strong hands took hold of your biceps. You had to catch your breath as they steadied you. You looked up at his face. His intense blue eyes caught your full attention. You were speechless. He observed you.

“Are you alright?” He asked you. It took you a few moments to reply, you were somewhat hypnotized.

“No, not really.” You were staring at him. It didn’t seem to make him uncomfortable. His black hair shone nicely in the sunlight. His bob-like haircut suited him. You had never seen someone who wasn’t a woman pull it off. He had orange clips on either side of his head above his bangs. You noticed his look of concern then.

“What happened to you?” He asked. He still held your arms. You swallowed.

“I don’t know. I-I have no idea what’s going on.” You began to lose yourself in your uncertainty, you began to hyperventilate. The man gently squeezed your arms.

“Amica, come with me. I can help.” His words caught you off guard, you had been looking away, but you looked back at him. You had an odd feeling that you could trust him. You nodded.

“O-Okay.” He let go of one of your arms but kept ahold of the other one. You could tell he was going to protect you.

He led you a simple Italian restaurant. He took you to a small booth. He sat you down on one side. He sat across from you.

“Tell me your name.”

Was the first thing he said to you at the table. You shyly replied.

“I’m (Y/N).” You felt as though you should give him more information, but you honestly couldn’t remember a single thing about yourself. You knew who you were…but many things seemed to have just left your mind. Where you were from, who you family was. This was getting even scarier. The man could tell you were having a hard time.

“I’m glad to meet you, (Y/N). I am Bruno Bucciarati.” He put his hand to his chest and nodded to you. Putting a name to the face was incredibly helpful. You managed a small smile. A waiter then approached the table.

“Buonjiorno, Amici. What would you like?” He held a pen and notepad in front of him. You shook your head, but Bruno spoke.

“You can have whatever you’d like.” He assured you with a kind smile. You hadn’t even touched the menu, but you were familiar enough with Italian food.

“C-Can I get Spaghetti Bolognese, please?” You asked nervously. The server wrote it down.

“And you, Amico?” He asked Bruno. He just waved his hand and shook his head. The waiter walked away. You looked at the other in confusion.

“I’m not hungry, don’t worry.” His smile remained. It was extremely comforting. You let out a gentle huff.

“Thank you for this. I’m really hungry.” You admitted, reaching for the napkin in front of you. You began to fold it, distracting yourself momentarily before Bruno spoke.

“Do you have anything else to tell me? I don’t see many people wandering around Naples looking like you do.” He asked you, genuinely curious. He seemed to actually be worried about you. You replied.

“I-I don’t know. I woke up in an alley, I-.” You reached for your forehead and touched it, hissing.

“I-I had this, but I don’t remember what happened. I don’t even have the slightest clue.” You reached for the napkin again. Bruno didn’t speak. He wanted you to continue, so you did.

“I suppose I have a concussion. All I know is my name…my age…” You stopped for a moment, trying to think of anything else, but you were at a loss. Bruno took notice.

“If you let me help you, I will try to do so.” He told you. His words calmed you. You might end up being okay after all. Then came your food.

“Here you go, Amica, enjoy. I will bring you some water.” He left once more. You looked at the plate in front of you, taking a deep breath in. How wonderful. It looked delectable; all you did was stare at it for a moment. The man across from you chuckled before saying something.

“Are you going to eat? It is food, after all.” He snapped you out of your trance and you picked up your fork and spoon, spinning a few noodles together before you brought them up to you mouth, taking a bite. You smiled as you chewed. And damn good. It was authentic after all. You went in for another bite. It was a little too big.

“Mmm!” You struggled to chew, and Bruno couldn’t help but start laughing at you.

“Slow down, Amica. You’ll choke.” He reminded you as if you were a child. You certainly felt like one in this moment. You did as he said and swallowed with a gasp. You cleared your throat. You became red in the face. How could you be such a slob in front of someone who was being so kind to you?

You set your fork down, deciding to take a break. Your waiter came back with the water.

“Oh, Grazie. You and Bruno spoke at the same time. You smiled at each other. The waiter died the same and left the two of you. You immediately took a few gulps. You felt so dehydrated. You only hoped this, and the food would help your pounding head. You swallowed before speaking. You had another question.

“U-Uh, am I, am I in Italy? You mentioned Naples…” You asked nervously. You assumed the answer was yes. You were so far from home. You felt so alone.

“Si. We are in Naples.” He replied. He was completely aware that your lack of knowledge in this situation was scaring you.

“O-Oh…” You replied. He had to ask something else though.

“Though I must say, your Italian is near perfect.” One of his brows was lifted. It seemed very strange. He rested his elbows on the table. You decided to pick up your fork and begin eating again.

“Honestly…I haven’t the slightest clue as to how I’m speaking it…I’ve never learned.” You took bite after bite after speaking, but you had slowed down. The other squinted his eyes. How peculiar this was.

“Strange.” Was all he replied with as he watched you eat and drink.

“You’re telling me…” You replied between bites. Soon enough you were finished, clearing your plate. You set your fork down and picked up your napkin, wiping your mouth.

“Do I-have anything on my face?” You had to ask. You didn’t want to walk around with red sauce as lipstick.

“No, you’ve got it all.” He thought your question was rather cute. In fact, he thought you were cute. A smile remained on his face as he thought about that. You spoke again.

“For the food…grazie mille…” You almost felt guilty for letting him pay for your food. You were a stranger. Sure, you were in distress, but still. This had must have been the reason you trusted him you supposed.

“No need. You need to eat.” He told you. He got up from his seat and held out his hand for you to take.

“I’m going to find a safe place for you.” You hesitated to take his hand, looking up at him.

“With you?” You asked. You had hoped he would say yes.

“No. I’m afraid not.” His smile was no longer present. Neither was yours. You took his hand.

“Oh, well…I’d like to stay with you. You’ve done so much for me. You’re the only person I have.” You explained to him. He let go of your hand as you left the restaurant. Your mood wasn’t in tip-top shape.

“I promise you that you are better off elsewhere.” He glanced at you as he led you down the sidewalk. He was taking you somewhere. You had no idea where. You stayed close to him.

“May I ask why that is-.” He cut you off.

“No.” Was all he replied with. You looked down, regretting questioning his answer.

“Midispiace molto, Amica.”. He was the guilty one. He didn’t mean to speak to you in that manner. You looked back at him.

“It’s Ok-,”

Suddenly you felt a sharp pain against your upper back, you’d never felt such pain before. You felt your muscles break open. Your bones felt as if they had shattered. You took in a very deep and sharp breath, crying out. You began to keel over, but Bruno caught you.

“(Y/N)?” He held your shoulders. You couldn’t speak. The searing pain left you unable. Your eyes were wide when you looked at him. You needed help. You needed this pain to leave. Your head fell back. You lost consciousness.

Bruno panicked as he held you. If he had a plan, this certainly wasn’t a part of it. Merda. What was he to do? When people began to stare, he picked you up bridal style. This was certainly not normal. There was something going on here. Something going on with you. He had to figure it out. And there was only one place where he could do that.

-

You woke up on a couch in an unfamiliar setting. Your eyes fluttered open, you looked over to see six men, one of them was them was the man that helped you. You managed to sit up. Your back was sore, but the pain seemed to have subsided…you couldn’t even begin to guess how that was. You had felt like you had broken your back. Like someone…shot you with an arrow…You cleared your throat. It was dry. The men all looked at you.

“Oh! (Y/N).” Bruno hurried over to you and knelt. His familiar voice and face calmed you. He put a hand on your shoulder.

“How are you? Are you in pain?” He asked you hurriedly. You shook your head. You honestly began to feel fine. You were a little hunched over though. You looked past Bruno at the other men. They all stared at you. Bruno spoke to you.

“Men, this is (Y/N).” He told them. They didn’t say anything back. Two of them were eating donuts. Bruno scoffed.

“Are you going to be mature and say hello, S idioti?” He scolded them. They all stiffened and one by one said hello.

“Hey.” Said one of the men eating a donut. He wore an outfit like something you’d never seen before. He wore a cropped blue and red sweater with striped red pants accompanied by some sort of head gear of the same two colors, an arrow design went down the middle. There were white crises cross patterns on his sweater. His boots were tall and white. He looked to be in his late teens. He was bullt slim but was muscular. You could tell he was a personality. He wasn’t bad looking in the slightest. His dark eyes complimented his tan skin tone.

“Hey there!” This one smiled brightly at you. It was refreshing. He wore black pants and a black top with straps that went up to his collar. He fashioned what seemed to be an orange skirt of some sort. His hair was dark and messy, an orange bandana accompanied it. He must have been a bit younger than the first. Slim as well, sort of lanky, but he definitely did some working out. It was odd to see someone that young with a body like that. He was adorable. His purple eyes seemed to sparkle. He sported a light tan.

These men were already getting extremely hard to describe. You simply couldn’t imagine what their personalities must be like.

“Hey.” This one seemed uninterested. He didn’t even look at you. He had light grey to white long hair, some sort of purple head piece on the top of his head. His outfit was impressive and unique. He wore a long dark, lapel less overcoat. He had purple laces that crossed his chest. Wow. Sexy. Dark bell-bottoms matched his coat. Black shoes. The buckle of his belt has an insignia of an A. He wore purple lipstick. Oh, brave. It looked good on him. He was visible taller than the others, a slim built, but definitely a little bigger. You had yet to get a look at his eyes. This one was pale.

“Mm.” Was all this one’s greeting was. He also didn’t seem to be interested, but he did flash a small smile. He wore a two-piece suit that looked like it had definitely been through a lot. The only button that was clasped was his top one. He was bare underneath. He sported a blue tie that was tucked underneath the first button, it had a few strawberries down the middle. Another cute one if you had anything to say about it. His eyes were a beautiful purpura similar to Narancia’s He had a light skin tone.

“Buongiorno.” He smiled. The last man was the most flamboyant. He had golden blond hair that was pulled back into a braid that looped at the bottom. He had three distinct large looped curs that sat atop his forehead. He wore a two-piece pink suit with varied small designs on it. The back end of his suit had a checkered pattern on it. There was a large heart shaped opening in the chest of what he wore. He had three lady bug broaches around the border of it. Young as well. Moderate stature, Cute of course. Amazing turquoise eyes. Also, light skinned.

Bruno’s attire was also elaborate. You supposed you hadn’t actually paid too much attention beforehand. He wore a white two-piece suit with spoon shaped black emblems all over it. Golden zippers adorned his shoulders and biceps. He also had an opening in the chest area, larger than Giorno’s it was clear to see that he had an intricate black tattoo underneath that started at his chest. You couldn’t place the pattern. He had soft light skin as well, matching his blue eyes like a dream.

Jesus. Talk about putting on a fashion show without a runway. You just wished you had a sense like that. Impressive attire…Bruno breathed in and out, irritated.

“Maybe you want to tell her your names as well…?” He told them, shaking his head in disappointment. He was definitely the parent here. They all told you their names then, introducing themselves in different manners.

Guido Mista.

Narancia Ghirga,

Pannacotta Fugo,

Leone Abbachio.

Giorno Giovana.

And of course Bruno Bucciarati.

Now that that was over with you could relax a little more. Knowing their names was comforting. Knowing that they were Bruno’s friends made it all the better.

“So, these are your friends?” You asked, of course knowing that that was the case.

Bruno looked back at you. Soon Fugo spoke up.

“Does she even know, Bucciarati?” He asked. Of course, you knew not of what he was referring to. You lifted your brows, looking to Bruno. Know what?

“Know what?” You asked, voice unsure. Bruno sighed and looked to you. He had to tell you.

“We are Passione. Part of the Italian Mafia.” He did not admit this lightly. You were silent. The mafia? This wasn’t…you thought Bruno was different. Not some criminal. Your lips parted as you wanted to say something but couldn’t think of anything.

“(Y/N), Listen-.’ He wanted to explain but you stood up.

“I think I should go now. I-I can take care of myself.” You began to walk towards the door, but you turned around to look at Bruno one more time. That’s when you saw it. You saw it in the corner.

It was terrifying. Your eyes widened. No…what the hell was that? You couldn’t quite describe it. It was humanoid and looked…like metal or iron…coated in rust. Chains wrapped around it as if it were mummified, some hung off of it. Its eyes were black. It had no mouth.

You screamed bloody murder, falling back and onto the carpet. The others looked at you. What the hell?

“(Y/N)?” Bruno was scared for you at this point. You pointed to the corner of the room.

“Th-That thing!”

You began to shake. When they saw it, their mouths fell open. They knew exactly what they were looking at.

It was your stand.

They all looked at each other, nearly as shocked as you. Giorno spoke.

Bucciarati you said she-.” He was interrupted.

“I know what this is…” He let out a long breath. Bruno stood so that he could walk over to you, kneeling.

“It’s alright, (Y/N). It’s alright.” He reassured you. His voice did in fact calm you, despite what you had just found out about him. You swallowed.

“W-What the fuck is that?” You nearly yelled. You began to breath heavily.

“It’s a stand.” Giorno spoke. You looked at him.

“A what now?” You asked, Shaking.

“A manifestation of your soul.” He was going to explain, but he knew you wouldn’t listen until you calmed down. He looked at the others.

“Should we show her?” They all had looks of uncertainty on their faces. Narancia spoke.

“Me first.” He stepped forward before calling out.

“Aerosmith!”

And out of the blue you saw a miniature fighter plane floating next him. It glowed. You brought your hands up to rub your eyes. You were speechless at this point. Then Mista stepped forward, pulling out a pistol.

“Go, Sex Pistols!”

And then you saw 6 little creatures appear on top of his gun. They looked like some sort of projectiles. They began to speak in high pitched voices.

“Yeehaw! Who’s that?” You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut. This was a dream! It was to weird! No way in hell! When you opened them back up, everything was as it was before you closed your eyes. This was no dream. Fugo was to go next, but he shook his head.

“I shouldn’t. My stand isn’t safe to be around. You are all aware of that.”

He was serious. Everyone nodded, so you did too, a bit disappointed. Abbachio stepped forward closing the silence after Fugo spoke

“Moody Blues!”

His stand appeared, humanoid as well. It was a tall slick lavender-purple figure that was sort of holographic. It had what looked like a countdown timer on its head. You blinked quickly. Then it was Giorno’s turn.

“Gold experience!”

And what you saw was indeed gold and definitely an experience. This one was humanoids like the others, slim, gold as it’s name describes. It had some sort of what looked like a crown for a head piece. Then it was Bruno’s turn.

“Sticky Fingers!”

And his stand appeared. It was white and blue with silver spikes on it’s face and 3 golden zippers across its body.

You were frozen. You had no idea what to think. How to feel. You looked down at the carpet. Your chest rose and fell heavily. It hurt like hell.

“(Y/N).” Bruno spoke your name, but you wouldn’t look. You soon felt a hand on the side of your face. Bruno gently turned your face towards him.

“I know it’s scary, Cara, but you need to accept it. Everything will be okay.” You bit your lower lip. There was no use in feeling the way you were. Acting in this manner. If this was how it was going to be, you had to suck it up. Though you did feel your eyes begin to sting a bit. You felt tears were coming, but you blinked them away. You refused to cry. You would be strong.

“So-So what now?” You looked at Bruno before looking at your stand. It was still terrifying to look at. It looked almost like a movie monster. Why did it have to look like that…and not cool like moody blues? Totally unfair…

Not to mention…a manifestation of your soul? Is that what your should looked like? That was unfortunate. You managed to start composing yourself. Bruno stood and held out his hand. You took it without hesitation.

“These things have names, yes?” You asked, looking to the others. Mista spoke.

“Yup, whatever you wanna name it. Go for it. Make sure it’s something cool though. Like mine.”

His little bullets cheered.

“Yeah, Like us!”

You laughed at the both of their enthusiasm and put a finger to you chin. Chains…Sex Pistols…Chains…You knew exactly what you wanted your stands name to be.

“I got it.”

The other’s looked at you in anticipation. Narancia spoke excitedly.

“Spit it out, Amica!” He wanted to know. You put your hands on your hips. You were in fact declaring something,

“Alice in Chains.”

Mista and Narancia high fived each other. You couldn’t help but notice the others smile.

“A good choice.”

You were incredibly surprised to hear from Abbachio.

“I like it.” 

Fugo spoke next.

“Perfecto,”

Giorno joined in. It was time for Bruno’s reply.

“You seem to be a natural.” 

His smile was wide. He was proud of you.

“Now…” He walked in front of the others so they could all get a good like at him. He stood before everyone.

“You’re going to need some help with your new ability.” He told you.

“I encourage you to choose a partner.”

The others looked surprised at first, but then became intrigued,

“Me me!” Narancia raised his hand. He was totally up for it.

“Forget him, me and pistols got your back.” Mista was sure of himself.

“I’ve got the most experience.” Abbachio spoke, which you didn’t expect. He shrugged, a coy smile on his face.

“I’ll teach you, but I can’t guarantee you’ll see my stand.” He told you matter-factly. You couldn’t deny his small smile. This all seemed to be a competition now.

“I think it’s arguable that I have the most powerful stand, Amica.” Giorno’s arms were crossed and eyes were closed as he spoke. He knew him and his stand were the perfect team. He looked to you, the corner of his upper lip was curled up into a smile.

“And if it suits you. Feel free to choose me.” Bruno had a hand on his hip.

It was going to be hard, but you had to choose.

Who would you pick?

(Welcome, Welcome to my ‘Choose your own adventure’! Over time new chapters will come out based on the choices you make. I will start by publishing the most popular choices! The story can go in different directions! Comment.reply or send an ask on your thoughts!)

[missfay49]

Just Speak

Summary: Janus and Remus being domestic.  Well, as domestic as they can be.

Warnings: body horror, space, aliens, suggestive content, food, poison mention, venom mention, talk of medical procedures

Word Count: ~2060

AO3

Down Time

“Say it.  Say it, pleeeaze?  Please, please, please, please-”

Remus is crouching in front of the kitchen table, only the top of his head and his fingertips visible from where he’s gripping the edge.  His eyes are wide and teeth bared.

Janus is sitting across from him, elbows on the table, face in his hands, staring at Remus through his fingers.  He looks tired and more than a little disturbed.  

“Remus, honestly?  I don’t know if I can take another one.  Do I enjoy a good philosophical debate now and then?  Yes.  That’s not this.  You’re trying to destroy me!”  He squints and sits up, lowering his arms.  “It’s rude.”

“Hee!  Last one, I prom-ise.”  Remus rolls the ‘r’ and jumps from his crouch onto the table.  By the time he lands, he’s an eight-legged Boston Terrier, bouncing and giving Janus authentic puppy eyes - several of them.

Janus releases a shuddering sigh of defeat.  

“Fine,” he mutters through gritted teeth, a thousand-yard stare overtaking him.

“Pinky,” he asks.  “Are you pondering... what I’m pondering?”

Terrier-Remus erupts into a full-grown side again, standing on top of the table.  Janus leans back, looking up at him and grimacing.

“YES!”  He cackles in triumph, then pauses, confused.  “I mean, no!”  He smirks again.

“Unless, of course, you are also pondering the expansion of the universe and its correlation to black holes, because if matter disappears into the black holes of our universe, yet we continue to grow, then that implies not only that pocket universes are forming on the other side of those black holes, but that our own universe is also a pocket dimension formed on the other side of a black hole we cannot see - in a universe above our own - supplying our universe with matter at such a rate that we cannot lose it fast enough?!  And are you further pondering whether life first formed in our universe or the one above ours, and if it formed there first, does that mean that they put us here on purpose?  Are they watching us?  Are we just an experiment to them, CURSED,” he screeched. “-to struggle for the sick curiosity of an ancestral yet alien race that may decide to terminate us at any moment?!”

Remus stands over him, hands clutching the air, panting at the end of his monologue.  Janus stares up at him, mouth agape.  Logan laughs.

Logan?

Janus turns slowly, reluctant to take his eyes off the spectacle before him.  Logan is sitting cross-legged on the couch behind them, apparently having watched the whole thing.  

“Hilarious.”  He puts a hand to his chin.  “The odds of Janus pondering that exact same thing at the same time are preposterous.  Excellent joke, Remus.”

“Spaghetti!”

“That was not a joke - it was an existential crisis!”  Janus yells at the both of them.  

“I am not sure why it should cause any distress.”  Logan says evenly.  “While it is technically possible for that scenario to be true, it is not more true now than it was before you were aware of it.  And there is literally nothing we can do about it, given our species’ current technological progress.”

While Logan speaks, Remus climbs down, sits at the table, and conjures a plateful of piano wire covered in marinara.  He’s spinning a fork into the mess, nodding sagely all the while.  Janus watches him take a crunchy bite.

“This is why Virgil left, you know.”  Janus simpers, summoning a glass of… soup.  

“Oh, boo, Janny.”  Remus speaks out of a second mouth he’s just added to his shoulder.  It’s grin belies something sinister.  “He left for much worse reasons than that!”

Janus sighs into his wine.  Logan walks over to join them at the table, summoning a notepad and pencil.

“Remus, could you describe what is happening to your teeth right now?  I’m curious.”

“Absolutely!”

On a Mission

“Remus?  Darling, where are you?”  Janus calls from the kitchen.  A shape appears to the side, just catching the corner of his eye.  Remus is inexplicably soaking wet.

“Ah, there you are.”  Janus claps his hands together.  “Remus, dear, did you place this giant terrarium here just off the kitchen?”  Remus peers into a thick jungle sprouting out where the oven used to be.

“Sounds like me, but I don’t remember.  Are there dangerous creatures in it?”

“If the shrieks are any indication, undoubtedly.”

“Then, yes!”  Remus shimmies, shaking off the water.  Janus admires the spray, smiling.

“That’s exactly what I wanted, thank you.  Come along, now, we’ve got specimens to collect.”  With a flourish, Janus twirls around and strides into the foliage.  Remus snaps his fingers, donning a stained and battered explorer’s outfit, equally as wet as before, and leaps in after him shouting something about ‘smashing!’.

Working Late

Remus tiptoes down the hallway, leaving a trail of flour-based footprints behind him.  He’s dusted halfway up his shins with the stuff.  He slows and stops when he sees the light still on under his target’s doorway.  Janus is usually asleep by now.  He twists the knob, willing the hinges to squeal with their utmost spooky capacity.  

The bed is empty and neatly made.  Janus is at his desk instead, cape and hat hanging off the back of the chair.  His gloves are nowhere to be seen.  There’s a pen still upright in his hand, but his head rests on his arm and he’s fast asleep.  Even the noise doesn’t stir him. 

Looming over his shoulder, Remus examines what was keeping him up so late.  Small stoppered vials full of pale liquids are lined up in a specially-made wooden crate.  Latex gloves, wash cloths, and a mask are discarded atop a metal tray.  A pair of safety goggles are resting on Janus’ head.  

Half the vials are affixed with permanent labels in a clean handwritten script.  The rest just have sticky notes and scribbled words.  

Taxine alkaloids, Taxus brevifolia

Abrus precatorius

“Oo hoo hoooo!”  Remus claps excitedly as black tentacles tear through his clothing.  They wrap around Janus and lift him from the chair with surprising grace.  Janus only startles for a moment, settling back down when he recognizes the feel of the limbs surrounding him.  

“I’m nearly finished,” he murmurs.  Remus just presses him down into the bed, tendrils pulling down the blankets.  As the tentacles pull away, Janus shivers; nothing but his boxer briefs remain on him, the rest having vanished somewhere between the bed and the desk.  He pulls the blankets up tight as Remus perches on the footboard.  The tentacles are slowly slurping back into his body.

“Prenez une petite mort.  Your nightmares are more interesting when you get more sleep.”  Remus grins wide, revealing rows of shiny, dagger-like teeth.  A tentacle passes by the desklamp and hits the switch.  In the darkness, he sounds ravenous.

“Don’t worry.  I’ll stay right by your side…”

“Fine.  Goodnight, Remus.”

Janus sleeps soundly knowing nothing will get past his bodyguard tonight.

Almost Ready

“What scent should I use?”  Remus has brought three different perfume bottles for Janus to choose from.  “Ozone, battery acid, or meat?”

“Oo, tough call...”  Janus deadpans, focusing on tying a bow onto the crate just so.  “Sure you don’t have bloody mouse-y with a dash of hot sauce?”  He slaps a hand over his own mouth when he realizes what he’s said.

“A classic!  You got it, Santa-snakey.”  Remus snaps his fingers.  The first three bottles vanish, and a fourth appears.  It’s filled with a thick, bright red paste.  

“For the love of Liza Minnelli, do not spray that in here.”

The Gift

Logan sits unsuspecting in the living room having a cup of tea and reading an article about Maria Skłodowska-Curie on his phone.  The dark duo appear out of thin air on either side of him, the rustle and movement of the couch his only clues, except…  Logan puts his tea down.  

“Remus, what is that smell?”  

“Best not to think about it too hard,” Janus interjects.  “Here.”

Janus holds a hand out before Logan, a mysterious shape underneath a black cloth.  He flings the cloth away dramatically to reveal a present wrapped in gold-foil paper and a black silk ribbon.  Logan blinks at the surprise.

“This wrapping is quite aesthetically pleas- oof!”

Remus drops a ten-pound box in Logan’s lap, knocking his phone to the ground.  Janus deftly moves his gift out of the way.  The box is wrapped in yesterday’s paper and tied in a series of reef knots.  The top facing article features the latest alligator attack suffered by yet another “Florida Man”.

“Thanks!”  Logan squeaks out.  “I will just open this first, if you don’t mind, Janus?”  The other side nods.  

Logan carefully unties the knots and opens the box - the cake box.  Because inside is a pale blue frosted cake with rock candy cutting through the side.

“It is beautiful.  Is it meant to resemble blue agate?”  Logan carefully lifts the cake out of the box and places it on the table.

“It’s meant to resemble a vagina!  It’s a vageode cake!  I made it last night.”  

“Is this another reference I need to learn?”  Logan asks them both, but Janus just shrugs while Remus pokes holes in the cake and laughs.

“Mine next,” Janus reminds him.

“Ah, yes.”  Logan accepts the gold package Janus hands him and undoes the bow with one pull.  Underneath the foil is a smooth wooden crate holding eight vials.

“Oh!  ‘Nerium oleander’.  ‘Atropa belladonna’.”  Logan starts reading off the labels.  “Poisons?”

“And venoms-s-s.”  Janus says low.  “So you can help Thomas’ competitors- I mean, his fellow actors, take a well deserved break.  Or, you know, develop life-saving antivenoms, or whatever.  Your choice.”

“Thank you?  I am not going to poison Thomas’ colleagues.”

“You can test them on me!”  Remus winks at him.  

“Surely that won’t be necessary.  Although, testing does provide a lot of data.”  Logan looks thoughtful for a moment.  “Say, do you think- wait, no, that’s unethical.”

“Who cares about ethics, you’re not a doctor!  Tell me tell me!”  Remus bounces on the cushion, making a horrible sucking sound with each rebound.

“Well, I would need to do some research first.  Is it still considered an autopsy if the patient is alive?”  Logan picks his phone off the ground and starts opening tabs.

“Wait!”  He stops himself.  “I’ve got your gifts upstairs.  I didn’t know when you would be popping in.  I’ll be right back.”

Logan leaves the two sitting on the couch.  Janus preens.  

“Another highly successful encounter.  Do you think he’s caught on to our devious plan, yet?”  He smirks at Remus.

“Definitely not.  What was the plan again?”  

Janus tsks.  

“Our very evil plan to befriend the nerd under the guise of traditional holiday celebrations, reconcile all the sides with his help, and thereby help Thomas achieve self-actualization?  You know, the ultimate plan?”  He squints at Remus.  “Did we not go over the plan?”  

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Then why did you make that cake?”

“Cause we harvested all those poisons and I wanted to try my hand at creating a vagina!”  Remus tears a chunk of cake off and starts to eat it.  Blueberry filling starts to pour out.

“You know they’re not blue, right?”  

“Maybe not the ones you’ve seen.”  Crumbs are falling everywhere.  Janus withholds any more questions to prevent a bigger mess and texts a warning to Logan not to eat the poisoned cake.  

At that moment, the front door swings open.  The pair on the couch freeze.  Roman and Virgil start loudly carrying in armfuls of groceries, complaining about the lack of snow.  

“Patton, we’re back!”  

Footsteps upstairs are rapidly approaching.  Janus nods to Remus.

“That’s our cue.”  They stand up as one.

“Hey!”  Virgil shouts.  “What are you two doing here?!”

“Villains!  We’re being invaded by villains!”  Roman cries out, rushing into the living room.

“Now, Remus!”  Janus drops out of sight with a swirl of his cape just in time to avoid the explosion of glitter as Remus’ form erupts like a balloon.

When Patton comes downstairs, Roman is standing in the middle of the room spitting out neon green glitter with his sword drawn, and Virgil is ranting about perimeter security and motion detectors, floor sensors and alarms.  

Logan comes down a moment later carrying two gift bags.  

“Hm.”  His phone buzzes.

The cake is a lie.

Come visit anytime.

@sanderssidesgiftxchange​ @on-and-on-we-go-forever​

[bellakitse]

Omg please either “Wait, the tears are good tears?” or “I let you win” whichever inspires you more or you haven’t gotten yet. Thank you!!

We were meant for one another, come a little closer

TK stares at him, mouth open, and Carlos can’t help but stare back as his heart pounds loudly in his ears. He feels naked, like every feeling he’s been hiding from TK for so long is now on the surface for him to see.

*

Carlos and TK are best friends and roommates. When TK comes home from a failed date, it reveals long-time hidden feelings.

30 days of Tarlos - Day 23

Carlos is in the middle of scooping out some Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream into a bowl when his roommate and best friend comes through their apartment door, slamming it as he goes.

“Hey,” he greets him. Checking the time on the microwave, he frowns when he sees that it’s only 8:15. “I thought you had a date with that guy you met at the coffee shop last week,” he questions, turning around to face TK, he finds him scowling. “Oh-oh, what happened?”

TK exhales loudly as he takes off his jacket in a jerking motion that confirms his annoyance. “Well, let’s see,” he starts as he looks at him, placing his hands on his hips. “We can start with him trying to flirt with the waiter after he ordered for me without even asking what I wanted,” he tells him, nodding in agreement when Carlos cringes. He hates when guys do that Alpha male bullshit too.

“Or,” TK continues with an angry fake smile. “We can move on to the conversation portion of the evening that included the words, MAGA, and build the wall.”

“Oof,” Carlos winces one more time. “That’s gross.”

“Exactly!” TK growls, right before deflating.

Carlos watches as TK walks over to the couch, dropping down on it with a defeated groan as he covers his face with his arms. He looks down at his bowl of ice cream for a moment, grabbing an extra spoon before making his way over to the couch and his friend. He sits down next to TK silently, pressing his knee against his in support.

TK drops his arms from his face, and Carlos hates how defeated he looks when he turns to him.

“He seemed so nice at the coffee shop,” TK says with a shake of his head. “Charming and funny. Instead, from the moment he picked me up, it was all a nightmare. How do I keep getting this so wrong?”

“You’re not getting anything wrong,” Carlos argues, instantly getting a snort of disbelief in return.

“No?” TK chuckles humorlessly; he holds up his hand to count off on his fingers. “My last date spent the night telling me how hot my dad is. The guy before that thought that buying me a steak dinner intitled him to a blow job, and the guy before that turned out to have a girlfriend and was just using me as his gay experiment.”

TK looks over at him; his green eyes etched with pain and defeat. “The common denominator in all those dates is me. So, obviously, I’m the problem.”

“The only common denominator is that every one of those guys are assholes,” Carlos argues strongly, upset that he even has to explain this.

TK has been his friend since they were both rookies, him with the police department, and TK with the fire department. They met on a call, instantly hitting it off while dealing with a massive car pile-up. The attraction between them had been electric, and that very night, after running into each other at the local bar, they had ended up making out in Carlos’ car with their hands down each other’s pants. It could have been the beginning of something, but TK was coming off a bad breakup, and instead of needing a rebound or a boyfriend, he needed a friend, and that’s what Carlos had become.

Three years later, Carlos doesn’t regret it; he loves his friendship with TK, especially now that they’re roommates. He loves coming home knowing there is someone he cares about waiting after a long hard day, even if it’s just platonic.

Really.

Okay, so maybe he dies a little on the inside when TK goes on these failed dates, and perhaps he has to bite down on his tongue until he tastes blood to keep from asking for another shot when he finds himself sitting on the couch with his friend like right now, listening about how bad TK’s date turned out.

He’s never said anything before, and he doesn’t say anything now; instead, he pushes the melting ice cream towards TK, his insides fluttering when TK gives him a soft smile in return.

“Thanks,” TK says quietly as he takes a spoonful of the sugary goodness. Carlos feels his stomach clench when he lets out a soft happy moan around the spoon in his mouth. “So good.”

“Yeah,” Carlos gets out, his mouth going dry as TK licks the ice cream off the utensil.

They eat their ice cream in comfortable silence, leaning further and further into each other’s space. They battle it out over the last bite, laughing like idiots as they duel with their spoons.

“Ha, victory!” TK shouts, grinning happily as he eats the last bit of ice cream.

“I let you win,” he grumbles, unable to stop his own smile when it makes TK laugh again.

It trails off into a soft chuckle, TK leans his head back on the couch, looking over at him with gentle green eyes. “You always make me feel better,” he tells him, his voice low and soft. “Thank you, Carlos.”

Carlos nods, licking his lips nervously, feeling awkward from the way TK’s obvious affection for him makes him yearn for more.

“You’re welcome,” he says just as quiet, he takes a steadying breath before he continues. “Listen, Ty, forget about the idiot tonight, and the idiots that came before him.”

“I know,” TK sighs out sadly. “I just – “

“No, listen,” Carlos interrupts him, he sits up straight and places the empty bowl on the coffee table before taking TK’s hands in his. “Listen to me, okay? You, TK Strand, are amazing.”

TK scoffs at him, but Carlos can see the beginnings of a blush on his face.

“You are,” he insists, squeezing TK’s hand. “You’re brave, and kind, TK. You care so much about everyone and everything around you. You want to save the world, and you love so fiercely. You are so good, Ty. You’ve just had a bad string of luck, but you’re going to find someone that loves you as you deserve, I promise,” he tells him, swallowing hard, trying not to show how much it hurts to think of TK with someone else for real, loving them the only way TK knows how. With everything he has.

“Carlos – “ TK whispers with a slow exhale, his eyes wide as he stares at him in awe. Their faces are so close, Carlos can feel the small puffs of air across his skin.

“You’re amazing, sweetheart,” he tells him again. “You have to know that.”

TK stares at him, mouth open, and Carlos can’t help but stare back as his heart pounds loudly in his ears. He feels naked, like every feeling he’s been hiding from TK for so long is now on the surface for him to see.

He tracks TK as he moves closer, and yet he still gasps when he presses his mouth against his. They stay frozen for a moment, lips touching as neither of them dares to even breathe. Finally, TK, braver than he’ll ever be, moves, he runs the tip of his tongue over Carlos’ bottom lip, pulling another shocked gasp out from deep in his chest. TK makes a sound of his own; it’s needy as he presses his mouth against his, harder and more insistent.

Carlos reacts on instinct; he’s been dreaming for years of kissing TK again. He opens his mouth, his stomach clenching as TK makes a pleased sound, almost a purr, as he slips his tongue into Carlos’ mouth, flicking it against his.

TK shifts closer, getting up halfway from the couch only to drop back down, his knees on either side of Carlos as he straddles him before sitting on his lap. Carlos moans, his hands grabbing at TK’s hips blindly before pushing his hips up, thrusting is rapidly growing hard-on against TK’s.

“Fuck, Carlos,” TK gasps, breaking the kiss, his hands now clenching his curls, gripping them hard, and Carlos finds himself tilting his head back when TK pulls on them. He lets out a broken groan at how good it feels as he helplessly rubs against TK, the desire to come in his pants strong.

“You feel so good, baby,” TK whispers hotly against his mouth. He pulls Carlos’ bottom lip between his teeth and sucks on it in a way that makes Carlos see stars. It throbs pleasantly when he lets go. “Why the hell have I been wasting my time on bad dates?” he asks teasingly before kissing him softly.

Carlos freezes at TK’s words, it feels like a bucket of ice-cold water has been thrown on him. TK must feel him go tense all over because he stops instantly. Pulling back, he gives him a concerned look as he hovers over him.

“Carlos?” he questions worried. “Are you okay?”

Carlos shakes his head quickly, with his hands on TK’s hips; he softly pushes him back until TK is no longer in his lap. He stands, feeling his hand shake as he brings it up to his mouth, wiping away at the wonderful taste that is TK Strand.

“You don’t want this,” he starts, closing his eyes at the sting he feels behind them as he says the words out loud. “You’re upset about your bad date,” he continues, forcing himself to look at TK, his heart breaking at having what he wants so close and yet so far away. “I’m not going to take advantage of that no matter how much I want you.”

He looks down at his feet, willing the tears back.

“How much I always want you,” he whispers mostly to himself, he feels his face go red with embarrassment and sadness as TK takes in a sharp breath.

“Carlos – “ he starts softly, his green eyes looking at him with distress. “I –“

“You don’t have to say anything,” he stops him, mustering up a fake smile. “This was just a fluke. You needed something to make you feel better after tonight. Luckily we didn’t do something that you would regret in the morning,” he continues. He takes a step back when TK opens his mouth again, a severe frown on his face. “Let’s just forget about it and call it a night.”

“Carlos – “ TK tries again, his frown growing when he tries to take a step towards him, and Carlos’ takes a step back.

“Good night, TK,” he tells him before turning around. He doesn’t turn back as he heads for his room, he can’t bear to look at TK right now with his mouth swollen and tingling from their kisses. If he does, there is a good chance that he’ll get on his knees and beg his friend to love him the way he loves him.

 ֍֍֍

Carlos can’t sleep, he’s tossed and turned all night, reliving what happened in the living room hours ago.

He hears TK moving around the apartment while he hides in his room, he’s relieved and disappointed when he doesn’t knock on his door.

Flashes of their moment play behind his eyelids. TK’s mouth, the feel, and taste of it, his body pressed against Carlos, molding to him like he was the matching piece to make Carlos complete. He sighs in frustration as he gets out of bed; there is no point in trying to sleep; it’s not going to happen tonight.

He changes into running clothes and grabs his shoes from his closet before making his way out of his room quietly. Only to stop short when he reaches the living room and finds TK sitting there with the TV on mute, and only a side table lamp on, leaving the room in shadows.

TK looks over at him when he hears him, his expression miserable, and it makes Carlos’ heart squeeze painfully, hating that he’s responsible for that look on his face.

“You only go for midnight runs when you’re upset,” TK says quietly, taking in the running shoes in his hands.

“I can’t sleep,” he answers awkwardly.

TK nods, sadly. “Because I hurt you,” he sniffs, and if Carlos’ heart hurt before, now it feels like it’s breaking.

“No, Ty – “ Carlos starts, only to stop when TK shoots off the couch.

“Wait, let me speak first,” TK asks, pleading. “Please, afterwards, whatever you want to say, or whatever you want me to do, whether that’s moving out or not, I’ll do it.”

“Move out?” Carlos questions, his voice cracking, and heart racing at the suggestion. “I don’t want you to move out, TK.”

“Let me speak, and then we’ll see if you still think that,” TK gives him a humorless smile. “Please sit.”

Carlos does as TK asks, his heart still beating funny, his palms sweating with nervousness, he doesn’t know what TK wants to say, all he knows is that he can’t let him move out over this. Whatever happens, he can’t bear the thought of losing TK completely.

“Okay, first,” TK starts as he paces back and forth in front of him, his eyes wild when he stops to look at him. “I need you to believe me when I say that what happened earlier had nothing to do with my lousy date. That jerk was the farthest thing from my mind when I kissed you.”

“TK – “ Carlos says gently, only to jerk back when TK answers with a firm ‘No.’

“No,” he repeats. “If you believe nothing else, I need you to believe that. When I kissed you, the only thing going through my head was you, and how badly I wanted to kiss you,” TK looks at him, even in the half-lit room, he can see his green eyes, bright and earnest.

“And then when we kissed Carlos,” TK pauses, letting out a sigh almost to himself. “All I could think was, finally. I have waited so long to kiss you again.”

Carlos feels his breath catch in his throat at TK’s confession, his pulse racing as the first trickles of hope flicker in his belly. “What do you mean finally?” he asks, unable to keep that hope out of his voice.

TK comes over to sit down next to him, and Carlos turns to face him, his hands itching to reach out and touch him when he looks at him nervously.

“Went we met years ago, we started out so freaking hot,” TK reminds him, and he finds himself blushing from the memory and the small smirk on TK’s lips.

“But I was a mess from my shitty breakup, and you were just so nice and understanding that I couldn’t make you my rebound. It wouldn’t have been fair to you. So instead you became my friend, my best friend, Carlos,” TK stresses strongly. “You helped me get over it, giving me a shoulder to cry on, being supportive every step of the way.”

“I just wanted you to be okay,” he whispers, getting a beautiful smile back from TK.

“With your friendship, I was better than okay,” TK says softly, he hesitantly reaches out for his hand, letting out a breath when Carlos takes it. “I was finally happy again,” he smiles.

Carlos smiles back, a little shaky at his words.

“But by the time that happened, and I realized I was ready for more,” TK pauses, licking his lips. “When I realized I wanted more. We were already such good friends; it felt like I had missed my shot to turn us into something else.”

TK exhales softly; he looks down at their hands and gives his a squeeze.

“So,” he says slowly, dragging out the word. “All of this is to say that we can do whatever you want, you’re in charge, Carlos,” TK looks back up at him, and Carlos is blown away by all the emotions he finds swirling in his green eyes. “If you want to forget this whole night, I’ll never speak of it again. If you need space and need me to leave, I’ll do that too, whatever you want. But please, please, don’t think for one second that I was using you to forget someone else, because that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

Carlos looks at TK, takes in his nervous expression, and the way he bites down on his bottom lip as he watches him.

Waiting for his answer, whatever it might be, he knows TK will do whatever it takes to make sure he’s okay, even if it breaks his own heart, and Carlos wonders how he was blessed to love someone so kind.

“I’m in love with you,” he says, and for once, Carlos’ heart isn’t racing. It’s steady with the sureness of his feelings. “I have loved you for years, TK, so the last thing I want from you is space.”

“Carlos, I – “ TK starts, his voice trembling, but the watery smile on his face is bright, and probably the most beautiful thing Carlos has ever seen. “I love you too.”

“I figured,” he answers teasingly, the laugh TK lets out is like magic.

“So,” he continues as he reaches up to cup TK’s face, his stomach fluttering when TK turns his head to kiss the inside of his palm. “You asked me what I want. Well, what I want is for you to kiss me like earlier and never stop,” he says with a grin, feeling the flutter turn into a clench as TK licks his lips, his eyes darkening with want. “Think you can do that?”

TK takes his hand off his face before pushing him back into the couch as he stands. Carlos holds his breath when TK straddles him again, pressing his body against his until there isn’t an inch of space between them. His body reacting instantly to the feel of TK already half-hard against him.

“Yeah, baby,” TK says as he closes the gap between them, his lips brushing over his as he speaks. “I can absolutely do that.”

[xiaomomowrites]

hiraeth

Legend of Korra | Kainora

Summary:  Kai gets tired of this long distance thing first. Full disclosure, the unmistakable feeling of this dreaded distance has been building up for months now, and the only thing that kept the truth stuck in his throat was the fact that it felt completely and utterly selfish to admit it out loud. Even to himself. “Last chance to tell me not to go,” he looks down at her surprised expression. Jinora’s mouth twitches into a bitter smile, humoring him. “Don’t go."

Find this story on AO3 and Fanfiction!

A/N:  Wow haha. Every time I take a "short" break from writing, it always ends up being like a year or so. I've been working on this one since Netflix dropped Korra this summer actually, because I remember how much this ship makes me feel things lol. Also because I was totally robbed of these two in season 4. I adore this sunshine ship, but you know me, I have a weird affinity for angst. Anyway, enjoy! - s.a.

--

hiraeth - (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.

Kai gets tired of this long distance thing first. 

At least, that’s what it looks like to him whenever he’s waiting on a response from his busy significant other. 

Full disclosure, the unmistakable feeling of this dreaded distance has been building up for months now, and the only thing that kept the truth stuck in his throat was the fact that it felt completely and utterly selfish to admit it out loud. Even to himself. 

He’s an airbender too, for Raava’s sake. The expectation is that he is a picture of patience and an expert at disassociating from the pull of earthly ties. It really doesn’t help either that this is not just some simple cookie cutter relationship with a normal girl. In which, maybe a couple months of separation and no contact probably meant it was over. Instead, their relationship is decorated with the complexities of being responsible for a whole nation’s growth and wellbeing, and half of this pair, a master Airbender, was an important figure in this mission. 

Kai ultimately understood that the years they had spent together so far built quite a solid foundation for setbacks like this. The communication, the genuine love, and the mutual understanding seemed like the perfect equation for a relationship that could withstand the turbulence of long distance.

But sometimes he just felt like there was no room to be...clingy. And that kinda sucked.

At first, the occasional reunions were sufficient. 

There was pep in his step when he worked, knowing that he would always come home to her. Work hours would go by quickly when he knew there was a phone call waiting for him at the end of the day. It became natural to expect an incoming letter (he has kept every single one) that went on about anything and everything in his absence. He always adored the way he could read them in her voice; anyone with a functioning pair of eyes would be able to see the strength of their love in the beginning. 

“He must have a lucky lady in his life,” people in passing would say, commenting on the way he held his chin up. It was easy to pinpoint the source of this glow about the young airbender. 

Counting down the days was so much easier when the finish line was always palpable. 

But that was just the beginning.

The beginning, four years ago, before Jinora became significantly more occupied with significantly more responsibilities. This was before the population of the new air nation had practically doubled, and before issues started arising left and right as a consequence of the Avatar’s disappearance and, subsequently, Kuvira’s attempted tyranny.  Things were different before, and so he coined the term, and used it with venom whenever he would spill all his frustrations to Opal. 

Although there was a brief period following the fall of Kuvira's army where things seemed to slow down a little, the world quickly picked up its pace once more, sending him off to travel the world and keeping her where she was needed the most.

In retrospect, it was naive to think they would be let off the hook just because they were two teenagers in love, impending doom no longer looming over their shoulders. Of course, they both knew it was only a matter of time before more work and real obligations towered over them and their relationship. But at the time, it was easy to focus on being grateful for the extra time together, until the thought of being separated again so shortly after inevitably dampened the mood. And what neither of them expected was the toll this distance would take on a couple of youngsters in love that feel with every fiber of their being.

Kai sighs, twirling the pen in his hand. The paper underneath his other hand remained painfully blank. It stared at him teasingly and he simply stared back, daring it to make a comment on him not being able to come up with anything to say. 

He always had something to say.

“What’s wrong?” Opal asks, materializing beside him and setting down a small bowl wrapped up neatly in front of him. Kai watches as the tied handles of the plastic bag fall softly onto his writing hand and only then does he remember where he is. He glances at his friend, hoping she didn’t just catch him slipping, and replaces the pen in his hand with a pair of chopsticks. 

“Oh, I’m just trying to write a letter,” he sounds unbothered, but the young Beifong understands.

She eyes the blank parchment pushed off to the side.

"What was the last thing she wrote?"

"Meelo turned eleven the other day," he answers easily, remembering that letter was read five times over in an attempt to conjure a response. 

It wasn't even that her letters were poorly written or empty. Despite the fact that she may not have written nearly as often as before, there were definitely still traces of her heart in every piece of parchment sent his way. Her words were still punctuated with a love that just made him miss her more. 

They had just been growing...a little distant. 

He hated to admit it, but it was just a feeling not quite explainable, when sometimes there was just nothing else to say. And so sometimes he didn't respond at all.

It was unintentional, of course.

"Eleven, huh?” Opal breaks the silence, “I wonder how tall he’s gotten.”

"He's up to her shoulders now."

“Hmmm, well why don't you ask her how all the training is going?”

“I’ve already asked her,” he says, half of his mouth full, “in like every other letter I’ve sent in the last few weeks. Training is great, that doesn’t really change.”

"Training is going great, huh?" she laughs, an attempt to lighten the mood. “That’s not what I remember.” 

Kai let out an amused sigh, "it's probably only fun if you're running it."

They recall the training they had to endure before graduating onto traveling the world. To say that it was smooth sailing all the time was quite a stretch. Opal makes a sound of understanding, before swallowing to speak again. 

“I’d love to run training with some new airbenders. Doesn’t that sound fun? You always loved showing everyone up at the obstacle course.” 

“What?” he feigns modesty, “Please, Opal, you flatter me.”

She chuckles, content with managing to uplift his mood a little. “When do you think you’ll get your tattoos?”

“Oof, I’m not sure,” he answers honestly, twirling a finger to blow air on the hot food. “I think I still have a few techniques to perfect. Master Tenzin isn’t gonna let me off easy just because I showed potential in the beginning. And Jinora says I still have a lot to work on spiritually.” 

"You practice though, right?”

Kai waves a hand dismissively, "yeah, when she leads meditation exercises."

“Hah, well I think if you spent more time focusing on meditating instead of staring at her all the time, you’d get more done.”

“Whatever,” Kai blushes, smiling, and hides his face into his food. “Anyway, it can’t be easy teaching that stuff.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to bother you with the stressful parts,” Opal suggests, though it seemed to do more harm than help when her friend makes a sound resembling a scoff. 

He recalls the picture perfect image of his girlfriend in his head, a little hazy now, perhaps from the distance. She was always so strong and responsible, it’s definitely easy for someone from the outside to assume Jinora doesn’t bother people with her struggles. But that wasn’t true for him. Around him, her walls crumble. In the beginning it chipped away slowly before tumbling all at once, and there stood Jinora in her rawest, purest form. To an outsider, Jinora was an incredibly talented master airbender fully capable of taking on the same responsibilities her grandfather shouldered in his late days. To Kai, she was a bundle of insecurities densely packed into a fifteen year old girl that, air nation responsibilities aside, just wanted to spend time with her boyfriend.

“She always tells me when something is bothering her.” 

Kai sighs into his food before taking another defeated mouthful.

“Letters are tricky,” she watches, amused, as he idly sat there stirring his food around. The last bite is still stuck in his cheek making him look like a distressed squirrel. 

“I just miss talking to her. And I mean really talking to her, not this awkward small talk over letters.” He waves his hand through the air lazily, hoping that the movement conveys his frustrations properly.

“So you prefer some good ol’ quality time,” Opal states easily, shifting in her seat. “Nothing wrong with that.”

She earns a smile from her friend, “Yeah, I guess not.”

“Hmm...oh! Can’t she talk to you with her spirit?” Kai stiffens at the suggestion, and she immediately recognizes that she struck a nerve. 

“She’s busy, I think.”

“You think?”

A pause.

“I don’t know. Maybe we’ve just felt really disconnected lately.” 

He recalls the first time she found him through this connection of theirs since he had left Air Temple Island. It was incredibly relieving to finally get to speak to her and see her face. They talked for hours that night, and he can still remember how badly he wanted to reach out and kiss her. It would have been so easy to, really. To simply reach out and cup her jaw, inching closer until they met in the middle and Jinora would promptly forget what she was going on about. His lips had tingled at the thought.

But he remembers her smile, so alluring and contagious, and not having seen it for months was such a sight for sore eyes. The young airbender’s radiance was simply too distracting to be thinking of anything else. She had finished telling him something, fully aware that at this point he was just looking at her lips with much longing. Jinora must have understood where his train of thought was heading, because the soft laugh at his smitten expression served as the cruel reminder that no matter how much he wanted to or how hard he manifested it, he couldn’t actually just reach out and get what he wanted.

Really, it seemed like that was the only setback to this method of communication.

But he remembers another time she contacted him like this, and told him that her father says she should refrain from abusing this ability for worldly purposes. And above all else, Kai could only remember the sinking feeling of disappointment curdling in his stomach only seconds after she had told him. But this was Jinora, and she had responsibilities. The next few spiritual visits, much to his displeasure, were much shorter. She surprised him, however, as she continued to seek out his presence. Perhaps there was a thrill to the idea of ‘hurry before my father finds out’ that they both seemed to feed off of, but Kai could tell that she was incredibly torn between him and her integrity.

The very thought of Kai being the reason she willingly goes against her very essence: obedient, honorable, and understanding, is painful in itself. And every time she would bid him goodbye and her figure would dissolve into thin air, he was always rudely reminded of how cold and empty these hotel rooms really were. 

So he tells her this.

And he watches as the bright smile on her face leaves so quickly and yet so slowly when he says with carefully chosen words, “Maybe we should just stick to writing letters and phone calls.” 

At the time, Kai was so sure this was the best course of action, considering this selfless act was supposed to encourage her to focus on her work and not practice defiance. It made sense to remove himself from that equation to preserve her integrity, but at the end of the day it really wasn’t making him feel better at all. 

Jinora pauses for a moment, processing his suggestion.

“Right,” she concedes easily, breaking eye contact, “I should go, then. It’s getting late.”

"What?” he blinks, “Why?"

Jinora hesitates, and it feels like she might be giving him a chance to protest and take it back. 

He doesn't.

"You're right, and it's late. You should get some rest." 

Kai’s heart is in his stomach and he feels every muscle in his body contract painfully as he tries not to panic and do something stupid, like beg her not to leave him. If silence wins this round, then he has no idea when they'll be able to talk again. 

Kai seems to find it incredibly difficult to breathe, and he curses his own element for leaving him at a time like this. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, unsure of what else to say; his vocal chords seem to be on autopilot. He swallows thickly, feeling his throat click.

What he doesn’t realize is that Jinora had seemed to take this as rejection, her eyebrows meeting ever so slightly as she bites out, “I’ll write to you then.”

“Of course.”

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

It’s only when her form flickers a few times before disappearing completely that he snaps back to his senses, her name leaving his throat in a sort of panic. When the light of her spirit is replaced by the darkness of the room again he realizes he’s on his knees, chest heavy.

He doesn’t get a letter for a week and a half.

Opal watches her younger friend marinate in his feelings for a minute before she adds, “I’m sure she misses talking to you too, Kai.”

“But it’s not just that,” he replies, fully aware that she might have just broken the dam that was holding all his feelings together. “I miss spending time with her too. Sometimes we would just sit in silence under her favorite tree while she read a book, or- or whatever. Nothing mattered. Arguments didn’t matter, problems didn’t matter; we knew we could work through anything as long as we were- as long as we were together. 

I told her we’d be okay. I told her...ugh, I told her I would understand when she got busier and needed to focus on work, but now I feel like it’s my fault this isn’t working because I’m starting to get a little impatient. This whole thing is just so...so-”

“I know,” Opal responds, stern, but full of understanding when he can’t seem to find the rest of that sentence. "Long distance isn't easy, Kai. I understand."

She offers a bright smile and it seems to get through to him as he visibly relaxes from feeling validated. 

"Oh, right." 

"Communication is a two way street though," the older Airbender continues, and his stomach twists at the reminder of this recent rift in the relationship that targeted one of the things he thought they had mastered. "Maybe you just need to have a heart to heart conversation in person.” 

   Now part of Kai craved this solution. The part of him that understood that relationships require effort and craved her understanding. Perhaps a little communication was all they needed to clear the air, but the irrational side of him whispered a little louder in his ear, and turned him to believe that there was a chance that kind of conversation could end this relationship.

He finds himself back at Air Temple Island a week after his talk with Opal, hoping to get to talk to her in between debriefing and work related affairs. 

When she sees him in all his cheesy glory (a panda lily in one hand and her favorite tart from the city in the other), it’s incredibly hard not to swoon in front of her pupils in training. Her expression of excitement and the surprise in her tone made it impossible to remember, for a second, that there ever was any tension between them.

Then he remembers the group of airbenders she was in the middle of training, as all eyes were on them, and he promises to meet her in their usual spot that night. 

“Hey stranger,” she greets, settling in beside him under the tree. The proximity immediately brought waves of relief and an unmistakable love that they were both awfully aware had been missing for a while. 

“You’re late,” he teases.

“No, you’re just early,”  she jokes, worming her way underneath his arm and up against his side like it was just where she belonged. “What brings you here on this fine evening?”

“You,” he answers, unable to fight a stupid cheeky smile. 

She laughs, and he decides easily that he missed every part of her. "Charming. How have you been?”

“Alright, I guess. Lots of traveling, it gets a little exhausting sometimes.”

“I bet.” Jinora reaches up to play with a stray long fringe of hair that fell to his nose. “Sounds like you’ve been working a lot.”

“It's alright, just a lot to do. If it's not the heavy lifting it's some sort of civilian related crisis. Being on call is pretty taxing." 

“Yeah, tell me about it,” she thumps the back of her head against his collarbone as she speaks, “as the only other master here- for now of course- there's so much on my plate. Even if it's split between me and my dad. Sometimes it’s hard to sleep with all the stress.”

"Sounds like you're doing great though," he brushes some hair from her face in return.

"Probably," she grins, and he chuckles.

"So humble."

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I love it! There’s so much to teach these new airbenders and we’re still getting new recruits here and there. I wish I had more time to goof off, like before.”

“Yeah that’d be nice, wouldn’t it?” it's hard to miss the change in his tone, but when she looks up, he's greeted by a warm smile. It was almost impossible to stay in a gloomy mood when Jinora and all her sunshine energy always found the good in situations. 

Maybe that’s all he needed.

Jinora too feels warmth blooming in her chest when his eyes find hers.

“I missed you.” 

“I missed you too.” 

There's a comfortable silence that sits with them. A frog croaks nearby, but it's otherwise quiet. It could have been ten or thirty minutes before Jinora finds herself nodding off to sleep, half of her face smushed comfortably against his chest.

Hard to sleep, huh? He chuckles softly at her form. Maybe this was all she needed. Maybe this was all they needed.

Despite her shallow slumber, she notices the way he's fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve and interlocks their fingers to put a stop to the nervous habit.

“Is something bothering you?” Jinora asks, her voice now groggy.

“No, I…” he thinks about it for a second and realizes lying about this wouldn’t solve anything. “I don’t know, Jin, maybe,” he answers truthfully, passively. He only realizes he let the truth slip when her eyes are suddenly on him. 

Jinora sits up slowly and faces him, bright and curious eyes prompting him to finish the thought wordlessly. “This just sucks sometimes, that’s all. Being away from you, like, all the time.”

"Then," she hesitates, aware of how selfish what comes next might sound, "come visit more."

He sighs and watches his own hand play with hers. "It's not that easy. Traveling is tiring, in between all of the work I'm assigned."

"Okay, well, what if you came by every time Republic City is on the way?"

"What?” Kai looks down at her, his eyebrows furrowing together in confusion, “No, it's the same thing, Jinora. The point is to travel as least as possible. Why don't you just talk to me more?"

"What?" 

Well, he’s in over his head now, there really is no backing away from what they’ve started. He braces himself, explaining tentatively, “You just…I feel like you haven’t really been trying to keep contact as much...anymore.” Kai desperately hopes she can’t hear the slam of his heart against his chest.

Jinora seems taken aback at this accusation and lifts her eyebrows at him, equal parts bewilderment and confusion. She says the only thing her own aching heart could remember, “You’re the one who said I should stop trying to contact you with my spirit.”

"No, your dad said that. You and I both know it was for the best."

"You don't always write back either, Kai. I just assume you're busy, and that isn’t really fun for me either.”

“I just don’t know what to say sometimes, Jinora,” he confesses easily, exasperated. Kai retracts his hand from hers to run it stressfully through his hair, and it takes all her self control not to protest. The distressed teen takes a long, deep breath before continuing. “You’re also busy. Sometimes I feel like I’m just bothering you with my small talk.”

"Me too," her gaze is hard and challenging. He considers surrender for a second. 

“You’re not bothering me,” Jinora says easily, tone softening. “I don’t need to have long, deep talks with you all the time. Sometimes, just...this, is really nice. This is enough.”

“I know,” Kai sighs, “but we can’t always have this.”

“Then I don’t know,” the young master breaks eye contact. “It's just been a lot to handle lately.” Her posture straightens and she suddenly feels miles farther from him.

'Is this too much to handle then?' he wants to ask, but the fear of any possible confirmation has a solid death grip on his throat, so he says nothing. Jinora continues.

"I can't just call you when I don't actually know where you're stationed. I figured you knew that."

“So it’s my fault?” he asks, suddenly painfully aware of how defensive and childish he may sound. For a second, he doesn’t care, frustration now at a high.

Guilt hits him for a second, and he almost doesn’t want to acknowledge it. Isn't this what he wanted to begin with? He wanted a face to face conversation. He wanted to be close to her, to hold her, to properly hear her voice again. Kai knew that he wanted a deep conversation to make up for the painful small talk they’ve been having for too long, but now that she's pouring her frustrations out, he doesn't seem to be catching them very well.

“I never said that!” she mirrors this spike in energy. The guilt is put on hold. “I’m just saying-”

"Okay, so how is me compromising even more on my side fair?"

"I don't think you want to start a conversation about what's fair."

"Why not? I'm doing everything I can, running around the world trying to do my job, so that it's easier for you to just stay here and-”

"Stay here?" She looks so taken aback by this, her cool slipping away as quickly as his. "You think I'm just hanging out at home while you do all the dirty work? I am doing everything I can to make your job easier and it...it really sucks, it's so much harder than it needs to be!"

Kai watches quietly as his mentor’s nostrils flare and realizes he doesn't think he's ever really seen her angry at him before. Last time he saw her raise her voice was at her dad regarding the whole master tattoos situation four years ago. 

He wants to choose his next words carefully, aware that he might be walking on thin ice. 

But there’s something endearing about the way she looks when she’s upset with him. Like the pout that decorates her usually bright features was just begging to be kissed away, and her seemingly distant posture is asking to be held close. 

“Why are you smiling?” she asks, obviously trying to fight getting infected by his contagious smile.

Kai reaches up tentatively, encouraged when she allows the contact. He tilts her face upward and taps the underside of her chin once, charming her instantly with that stupid signature grin of his. “You’re adorable when you’re angry.” 

Jinora, now flustered, swats his hand away playfully. 

"What’s harder than it needs to be?” he asks gently, delighted and relaxed when she lets him hold her hand again.

"That I just miss you. A lot. All the time."

Her eyes find him in the dim light, and it’s clear how brightly they shine in all her passion and emotion. The urge to lean in and kiss her was strong. It would be an easy temporary fix, Kai ponders. She misses him and he misses her, at least that fact was reinstated and it wasn’t an entirely unproductive conversation. He could kiss her goodnight, and it would be in the past. But still, the question of ‘what now’ still lingered, and alas, Kai knew this needed to be solved now.

“So, what then?” he resigns, sitting up to match her, allowing an entire wall of tension to build itself between the thirty centimeters between them, a growing chasm of adolescent feelings and assumptions. 

"I don't know," she admits, and it seems more frustrating than it should be. She's Jinora, she always knows. "It's getting harder to balance everything in my life, and it just feels like you’re telling me that I’m not doing enough.”

“I never said that," he retreats, unable to deny that maybe he might have selfishly made it seem that way to her. "I just can’t seem to communicate with you well enough anymore.”

Jinora thinks about the time she had talked to Korra about why it didn’t work out between her and Mako, and the thought of her own relationship’s demise having the same cause shot fear up and down her spine. More than anything, all Jinora wanted to do was resume her rightful place beside him and stargaze in blissful ignorance.

Except now the night sky felt hot, or maybe it was just her that was feeling incredibly heated. 

“I love you," she says softly, the way she looks at the ground makes her miss the look on his face when he’s taken aback for a second. “But we can’t just keep goofing off and putting feelings first...and expecting things to be fixed only when I get to see you.”

“You know how I feel about you, is it not enough?” she seemed to say with her eyes. 

Her unspoken words seemed to clash with his own, “It really took you five years to outgrow me, huh?”

“Maybe this,” he gestures to the space between them instead, which now felt like a ravine, “this just isn’t…”

He knows it’s a last resort, because he’s just not sure how to deal with these things or his feelings regarding them, because it’s the first time in a long time he was faced with losing something he genuinely cared about. Maybe it’s wrong to file an empty threat, but the child inside him hopes she will deny this vehemently and everything can just go back to normal. 

Nevermind the fact that it was selfish and irresponsible. Nevermind the fact that she looked like maybe she was on the brink of tears too.

Dejected, and out of things to say, Kai licks his lips and lets out a defeated sigh. Jinora watches him with wet eyes, her own panic building up behind the dam she so meticulously built.

Jinora, unsure of how to handle this either, (fifteen and an airbending master, but an overwhelmed teenager on the verge of heartbreak nonetheless), does what comes naturally to an airbender, and disengages gracefully. 

“You have to be up early tomorrow,” she tells him through the panic, and he searches her words and her eyes for any hint of emotion to mirror the pain that's threatening at his heart. 

“Okay,” he hopes she didn’t just hear his voice crack. “We’ll talk tomorrow?”

“Yeah," she keeps her eyes on the ground between them. "We'll talk tomorrow."

Kai moves to get up hesitantly but she stops him: grabs him by the hand and he feels the frantic nature of her actions. He understands her panic- she tells him with just one look- and when he sits back down she assumes her spot in his side. 

He’s not sure if it took her twenty minutes or two hours to fall asleep beside him. But the way they clung to each other spoke volumes of how neither of them wanted to let go. In the time that she was dozing off he had enough time to contemplate what comes next, but the cycle of his thoughts seemed inconclusive. 

It was refreshing to deal with this in person, yes, because it was easier to understand the mess of emotions this way. But instead of feeling like they can handle anything else that comes their way after this, Kai is left dreading the time he’d have to spend away from her again and the tension that it brings. 

“Jinora,” he calls to her quietly, already apprehensive of what has to happen. She stirs slightly. “Let’s go, you can’t fall asleep out here.”

Reluctantly, they walk back to her room. The silence was both comforting and off-putting. 

Half asleep, Jinora turns around to bid him good night when they reach her door, and Kai takes a mental picture of this for the road: the love of his life, blissfully unaware of anything but him, eyes half lidded, the soft light of her room behind her inviting him in.

He leans in to kiss her gingerly, resolving to let future Kai and future Jinora deal with this tomorrow. 

She pulls him closer by the collar, an apology on her lips that he doesn’t need to hear to understand, and he returns the gesture.

It leaves a growing, comforting heat in his stomach and burns an important question within:

Was this a break up after all?

  If anything, the next morning weighed much heavier on both of their hearts. His one knapsack in hand ready to go, Kai sighs and turns around to face her.

“Did you sleep?” she asks, frowning at the dark circles under his eyes. 

“Not much,” he says truthfully, and notices she looks just as tired. “Did you?”

“No,” Jinora confesses, playfully jabbing at his chest. “You woke me up.”

He wonders for a second if she would have slept soundly, had they stayed outside together. The thought gets dismissed easily.

“Where are you headed?” She asks, and she watches him fidget with the bag in his hand. Her own hands itch to reach out to him, to pull him close and selfishly keep him here. 

“I’m not sure. I was supposed to talk to your dad about it but he was in a meeting this morning.” 

Jinora responds with a simple, “oh,” and she wonders if it was still possible to undo all the damage.

“Last chance to tell me not to go,” he looks down at her surprised expression, tired eyes wondering if she really could see past this lame attempt to disguise the pain with humor. 

It was half a joke, half lame attempt at trying to confirm if they split up or not.

"It's a little late for that." She watches as a familiar look of pain wriggles into his expression very subtly, in a way only he can disguise but only she can decipher. Jinora’s mouth twitches into a bitter smile, humoring him. “Don’t go," she says softly, her tone matching his.

He doesn't expect the joke to have such an effect on him. So in a panic he plays along. 

“Alas, it’s too late m’lady.” he staggers backward slightly, hand over his heart like one of those chumps in her favorite fictional novels. She giggles, and he thinks perhaps he can at least engrave the sound in his mind for the road. Who knows how long he can hold out without the sound of her voice. “Duty calls,” he says, half joking, half biting. 

And then she grabs his hand, turning the air into a more serious one once again. “Kai...I-”

“Okay, Kai!” Ikki’s voice cuts through like a knife out of nowhere. “Daddy says your next assignment is in-- oh...uh…”

“Ikki…” Her sister’s scowl seems to be enough to scare her away. They look down at their hands and suddenly the younger sibling understands what's happening. 

He squeezes her hand back, bringing her attention back to him. “I’m sorry,” he says simply, certain that she understands exactly what he’s apologizing for, because maybe he’s not so sure anymore himself. 

Thoughts in his head are running a hundred miles per hour as he leans in to kiss her goodbye out of pure muscle memory. But her wide eyes and hesitation served as a heavy reminder of their conversation last night and perhaps the final confirmation he was looking for. 

It's the exact moment his heart breaks-- shatters, and he wonders if she can hear it too. The weight of her actions causes him to stumble a bit, and instead he switches directions to place an innocent kiss on her cheek, aware of her entire family now in proximity.

And as he steps back tentatively to leave indefinitely this time, she lets go of his hand.

   Hiraeth settles in quickly and lingers far longer than Kai wants it to. Far longer than Jinora expects it to. And now that this distance feels so much worse than it ever has, they both wonder if it was really that bad before.

He avoids returning to Air Temple Island, fully aware that there is always a ninety nine percent chance she’d be there. Instead, he sends letters and telegrams to Tenzin regarding work, but always finds a quick witted excuse to avoid an in person visit (because if nothing else, he’s good at weaseling his way out of things, right?).

But with this active avoidance comes the grief of letting go of this home that filled a huge void in his life. The hospitality he received as a new member of the air nation family was incredibly cathartic, making it more and more difficult to remember what it felt like to be alone on the streets by himself. For the first time in his life, he felt loved and accepted enough to change his ways. And now the mere thought of returning to the very place that molded him toward the best version of himself made Kai’s stomach twist up in indecipherable knots.

Instead, Kai thinks maybe he should finally really take this airbending master thing seriously and work a little harder toward those tattoos. There really was no better time than post-heartbreak to focus on his spiritual growth, emotions now thrown into the void. Nevertheless, he wishes he had the luxury of being home. Of being comfortable, and surrounded by loved ones and familiar faces in the midst of stressful work.

Jinora, meanwhile, focuses on training the rest of the airbenders and stays rooted in the Island, with a small hope that maybe he would return eventually.  

The first few weeks were the hardest for the late Avatar’s granddaughter.

There was a window of time in which perhaps she could expect a call or a letter saying everything was fine. But the longer she waited, the more it hurt to know that it wouldn’t come. Nevermind the small speck of hope that lingered, unsolicited. It was during a particularly difficult meditation session that she decided perhaps it was time to let that hope go.

Despite the distance and space she was given (to heal, in theory), it was more frustrating than anything to know she couldn't reach out to him even if she wanted to. 

She envied his freedom, the luxury of keeping busy in new towns and meeting new people instead of being constantly reminded of their past everywhere she looked. His ghost seemed to haunt the island, eliciting some longing even she couldn’t dispel with meditation. 

This was her home, the physical location in which she had grown up. Here, her family resided and now the extension of it too. So why did she feel like a large undeniable part of her heart, her home, wasn't here? 

   It takes Jinora almost a year to decide that perhaps this pain should have left by now. That maybe it wasn’t just a brief period of grief that would eventually pass. Maybe the connection Korra mentioned between them ages ago was more than they cared to believe at the time. Jinora would be lying if she said she hadn’t tried to project her spirit to him within the last year. Sometimes the longing was so strong, she let the best of the urge get to her. It was always to no avail, however, considering they hadn’t spoken in a while.

It’s on a particularly overwhelming day of work when Jinora hears the phone’s incessant ringing. When her father’s voice sounds from downstairs for her to take the call, she almost wants to smash the telephone.

“Hello?”

There’s a long pause from the other side, but before she can repeat herself, his voice startles her. “Jinora?” 

She physically feels her heart drop seven levels into her stomach, and she wonders if he’ll buy it if she says it’s Ikki speaking. 

“Kai,” she says his name, just as she had last said a year ago.

“Hey,” he chuckles nervously. “Sorry, I was expecting your dad.”

“Oh,” she lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Uh, I can go get him-”

“No, it’s...it’s ok, I just…” he trails off, unable to tell her that this was actually a pleasant surprise. “I was just calling to report in.” 

“Okay,” she bites her lip, fully aware that she looks like a flustered schoolgirl with the phone in her hands as if her life depended on it. “Shoot.”

“Right, well uh, there were some bad guys the other day. The usual. I mean not really the usual, it’s-it’s a safe town. Supposed to be safe, err, you know with us there. Ugh…"

She tries not to laugh at his fumbling, but ultimately fails.

"Don't laugh!" he says, almost whiny, but she can hear the smile in his voice and it makes her feel inexplicably happy. "I'm usually more professional than this!"

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, it's easier talking to your dad."

"It's easier talking to my dad," she repeats to make sure he hears how ridiculous that sounds, "really."

"Yes! Or, I don't know! Sorry, I just, argh…"

"Kai, relax, it's just me," she reminds him, feeling a wave of warmth from the familiarity. Hopefully he feels it too.

He pauses, unsure, but then it clicks.

"Right, yeah," and suddenly the nervous panic in his stomach is easily replaced with the familiar feeling, "it's just you."

She gives him a moment to recompose himself. How considerate, he muses, no wonder he's still smitten. 

“So bad guys."

And then he launches into a story, far more comfortably than if he had to report to Tenzin. The conversation takes detour after detour, and it must have been forty minutes or so when Ikki intrudes.

“Who are you on the phone with? Dad’s asking. And mom wants to know when you’re coming down for dinner.”

Jinora’s attention is then split in half, waving her sister’s inquiries off.

“What? I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Ikki teases, cocking her head to feign confusion like the menace she is as she watches her sister mouth words demanding her to leave. She faintly hears the sound of a boy on the phone and her smirk grows tenfold.

“Jinora, stop trying to shoo me away, I know Kai’s on the line, but-” but she’s cut off when her sister shoves her out the door gracefully with a small gust of air. Ikki looks absolutely offended.

“Okay, whatever,” the younger sister shrugs, “you can tell mom and dad I tried.”

“Why are you still up anyway, it’s late!” Jinora calls out to her sister as she closes the door, and it slips her mind that she was also speaking into the phone.

“Oh, uh, yeah...sorry,” she hears him suddenly sound apprehensive. “I guess it is.”

“What?" Panic surges through her quickly.  "Oh, no...I-”

“No, it’s okay, you’re right, it’s late.”

“I was talking to Ikki, I-”

“Oh, I didn’t-”

“Yeah.” 

The silence that follows is full of awkward remorse for how the nice conversation was soiled so clumsily on both sides. Kai almost wants to laugh.

“Okay, well,” he is the first to break the silence, his voice cracking a little. She tries not to laugh. “It’s late, you should really get some rest.”

“Right, you too.” 

A few seconds pass, but neither of them hang up.

“Sorry I called so late-”

“No no, it’s fine!” she blurts, and he tries to stop the smile. “It was nice talking to you.”

She hears him smile through the phone. “Yeah, likewise. Good night, Jin,” and her heart flutters at the nickname she hadn’t heard in a year. Jinora bites her lip hard and hopes he can’t hear the smile in her voice.

“Good night, Kai.”

   It's frustrating. 

Two months after that accidental phone call and he still feels a smile sneak its way onto his lips whenever it comes to mind. But nothing else really came from it -- not another letter or call or spirit-y visit -- and he wonders if he should just assume that was some form of closure and move on.

Kai understands that blowing off some steam is a little harder for an airbender that can’t just be picking fights wherever they see fit. So the next best outlet is playing vigilante, he reasons, as he crouches atop a billboard sign and eyes a shady looking fellow following a nobleman. 

It reminds him a little- or a lot- of his past. It looked pathetic, prompting him to unpack that mess, and for a second the urge to assist this heist flared in his gut. 

Kai loses his balance and falls backward from the intrusive thought, rattling the metal of the billboard frame and subsequently catching the attention of the thief. The eye contact shot panic up his spine as they both fled the scene immediately. Only once it was quiet again did he catch his breath and realize perhaps it wasn’t the running that winded him.

The young airbender settles in his room at the inn, exhausted and irritable. He opens a fortune cookie from some takeout he picked up along the way. It says some whimsical nonsense about soulmates and connected feelings, rambling about how if you think about someone a lot it’s probably a mutual thing.

“Whatever,” he throws it off to the side.

He had no idea who he was without any of the comfort he had associated with his new home with the Air Nation, without Jinora. 

The time and space within the last year did a fine job of helping him understand exactly what she meant to him. 

Before she came along he barely had anything. A name, yes, but that was it. Harmonic convergence gave his life a purpose, but she gave it meaning -- something to fight for. And now the line between those three things is blurred and he’s not so sure anymore what he’s fighting for.

Kai misses home. Not the place he was born, or the foster home that had tried to adopt him as a kid, but the island: every nook and cranny he had spent years exploring with his best friend. He misses the simplicity of the time, when they had more time together waiting for Korra’s return. He misses the way Tenzin would send a warning glare in his direction every time it looked like he was getting a little too friendly with his daughter. 

A small part of him misses the past; the only thing he seemed to take with it anymore was the airbending. Which really, was a blessing! But if he cares to admit it, he might miss the thrill of being a carefree thief. And after the incident, it’s clear that returning to that life is just not an option anymore. The idea isn’t even appealing, but nostalgia has a way of grabbing people ruthlessly by the throat and launching them into a time where they thought they were happier.

He misses the days when training was far easier and he was ahead; these days the spiritual training was so much harder than being able to finish the obstacle course in record time, and now he constantly thought he was falling behind. He misses Korra and Mako and Bolin and Master Tenzin and Opal. 

He misses Jinora the most, and considers calling the island again and hoping she’ll pick up like last time.

One year was definitely enough time to be alone with his thoughts and deal with everything on his own. He wonders if she would welcome him back with open arms. The fact that this whole dilemma might have created a scar that would be hard to mend fueled the hesitation.

The young airbender sighs, resigning to meditation. 

But it seems more difficult to concentrate today, despite the silence that surrounds him. His mind insists on drifting to Jinora, and he wonders briefly if Tenzin would hand the phone over to her if he asked nicely.

But what would he even say?

Before he can consider it any further, out of nowhere in the center of his room, Jinora’s spirit materializes and scares the absolute shit out of him. 

“Jinora?” the way her name slips out of his mouth unintended has him wondering how long they really were apart. 

“Hi.”

“What are you…” then he shifts gears, asking instead what he’s wanted to know forever. “Where are you?”

“I’m at the Southern Water Tribe, visiting my grandmother,” she answers easily, and it’s like they never broke up at all. 

"How are you…” he hesitates, but asks honestly, “How did you find me?” 

She looks flustered, though it’s hard to tell without the signature pink that adorns her cheeks whenever she blushes. “Did you not want me to?”

“No no! That’s not it. You just haven’t done this in a while." He chuckles nervously, but he's happy nonetheless. "Guess I just wasn't expecting it."

“I know. I guess I just felt really connected to you tonight.”

The sudden spike in his ego made this a lot easier. “Missed me that much, huh?”

She looks like she wants to punch him in the shoulder.

“You must have missed me just as much.” 

“I did,” he says easily, reveling in the way she breaks eye contact, blushing, to recompose herself. “I mean, I do.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Look-”

“Listen,”

“Oh, sorry,” he sits up.

“No, it’s ok, you go first.”

Kai’s hand shoots up to the back of his neck instinctively, suddenly aware of his own heartbeat. He pauses and shifts directions. 

“Are you...still mad at me?”

“What?” the look of genuine surprise catches them both off guard. “I was never angry, Kai. I thought you were.”

“Oh, right,” his face contorts at the memory. “No, Jin, I was just being stupid.”

"Is that why…" the question dies on her tongue, and he raises an eyebrow at her hesitation. 

"Is that why what?"

She eyes him tentatively but it doesn't look like he wants to drop it. "Is that why you haven't come back to Air Temple Island? You thought I was angry?"

Embarrassment washes over the young nomad. Of course she thought about this while he was gone. And now he doesn't even have a good reason. 

"I...yeah, a little." He confesses. And when she laughs, his face fills with indignation. "What's so funny?"

"Me, mad at you?" She says, as if stating it would make it easier for him to understand how ridiculous it sounds. 

"I mean, yeah." Kai looks at her in all seriousness, and Jinora is reminded of how real their relationship was. How much he really saw her for who she was, flaws and all. "I can act like a real ass sometimes. As patient as you are, I know I messed up." 

She grants him a look, as if he had just answered a question correctly. "I suppose.”

"What about you? Why did you only decide to contact me now?" 

A faint blush adorned her cheeks, despite her figure being translucent. Jinora takes a deep breath. Kai waits patiently.

"When I was younger, I found an injured bird just outside my window. Mom and dad told me I was very generous to have spent a week or so nursing it back to health. When his wings healed, mom told me I had to let him go, because he was ready to see the world again on his own. As selfish as it seemed, I really wanted to keep him; named him and everything.

"Every time you left for an indefinite amount of time, I always wondered if I was just keeping you here with me, like I did with the bird. If you wanted freedom, I knew I couldn't really give that to you. So...I just let you go."

"Jinora…" she watches as he seems to be at a loss for words. 

She lets him sit in his thoughts for a couple minutes, thankful that the silence was not at all uncomfortable. 

When he speaks again, it's not as graceful as he planned. “I guess...I’ve had some time to think about it,” he fumbles, and decides to start from the beginning. 

“When you saved me from the earth queen's prison back then, I started seeing you differently. You were like a light in my really fucked up life. And I love that...I love you. I still do." 

He revels in the way she blushes at this confession, but ultimately finds himself too flustered to maintain eye contact too.

"But then I got really selfish, and I hurt you because of it." Kai looks down, frustrated with himself, but Jinora knows he still has more to say. So she moves closer and her spirit takes a seat beside him. "I know I can't just keep you all to myself. You're not just the light in my life, but to the world too."

She giggles, delighted at his little speech, "That was corny."

"Yeah, well," he scratches the back of head, half flustered, half proud, "I try."

"Kai," she brings his attention back to her, and remembers how much he loves the way his name sounded from her lips. "I'm sorry you felt that way. I got so caught up in work, I lost sight of other things that were just as important to me."

Kai watches her, enamoured by the way Jinora shyly bites her lip and pours out her heart to him. 

"I’m sorry I left. I didn't think it sent that sort of message to you."

She laughs softly, and it illuminates the room. "Yeah, no kidding."

"Ugh, Jinora…" Kai runs both hands down his face, both embarrassed and relieved.

"I've had some time to talk to my grandmother. She told me that Great Uncle Sokka also had a long distance relationship.” The late Avatar’s descendant twirled her thumbs, suddenly looking bashful. “It's never easy."

"It just takes a little work, I guess…I mean," Kai winces at the way he just started speaking without thinking this time. 

But there was no turning back now. She waits patiently, but anxiously for his next words. This was it, now or never. 

"If you're willing…"

Jinora's eyes widen and her heart skips a beat at the implication written all over his face. 

"Of course I am."

And just like before, like nothing had changed, he watches her smile and almost wants to scold himself for how ridiculous and pining he must look wanting to reach out and smother her spirit with affection.

“I hate that I can’t kiss you right now,” he blurts, and Jinora laughs. 

“Come home then,” she says, and he doesn’t need to be told twice.

  Jinora does welcome him back with open arms, to answer his question. With her arms wrapped tightly around his neck and her entire being so eager to have him back. She smells sweet and familiar and suddenly Kai feels stupid for ever thinking letting this go was the right choice. 

He holds her just as tightly, as if to let her know this was real, that he was real. And he feels a thousand pounds lighter when he tells her quietly, lovingly, “I’m home.”

She smiles against his neck, and he doesn’t need to see it to know.

“Welcome home.” 

[femmeharringrove]

#68 on the prompt list!

068: "We’ve been celebrating our wedding anniversary on the wrong day for the past nine years."

this took me a minute i'm so sorry oof!!

If there's anything Billy's learned, it's that his cooking skill is nothing compared to the culinary prowess of his husband. Stefano Alexander Lorenzo Harrington (a mouthful, Billy knows, he was terrified of messing it up during their vows) is king of the kitchen, and Billy enjoys everything he cooks, but sometimes Steve's menu can be used to give insight to what he's feeling.

It's one of those funny little quirks that the blonde man fell for all those years ago. After Starcourt, after he nearly died, his father cut ties with him completely and Max all but literally dragged him over to Steve's place. Steve didn't like him back then, not that Billy ever gave him a reason to like him, but the moment Max explained everything his doe eyes softened and he offered Billy a room in his house on the spot. Billy spent countless nights after that feasting on baked ziti and lasagna - "with my own pasta, none of that pre-made shit," Steve pronounced proudly as he served Billy the biggest slice of pasta he'd ever seen in his life to that point; he's outdone himself several times in the years since - and at one point realized he couldn't live a day without Steve's cooking.

He couldn't live without that blinding smile either, or without the sight of Steve chasing the Party around like a distressed young mother, or without the feeling of being wrapped up in those slender arms, face tucked into the crook of Steve's neck as the taller boy promised to keep him safe from the monsters of this and any other world. Steve told his parents Billy was just staying at the house until he found his feet, but they ended up living like that for four years before an argument between the Harrington men got ugly enough to make Steve want to leave. And so they did, after helping Steve's hoard of kids move to their respective colleges. They found themselves a little apartment in Malibu and Billy went to college that same year.

It was hard, for a while. Steve was still unsure of what he wanted to do in life and Billy struggled to find a balance between classes, his job at the garage down the street, and time with Steve. They fought, they cried, and Steve always ended up smoothing things over with Billy's favorite soups, no matter how hot it was outside, and slowly things got better.

Billy proposed to his boyfriend two years after that, and a year after that they got married, unofficially, with Hopper officiating and the Party giving Steve away. They were married on the beach on September 6th, Steve cried all through the ceremony and they spent much of that night in absolute bliss, wrapped up in each other's arms. Billy swore that the date would be one he would never forget, how could he forget? Nobody forgot their wedding date.

They've been married nine years now. He's got his engineering degree and owns the garage down the street now. Steve's artistic streak led to him opening a studio and offering art classes on top of selling his own work. They moved out of the apartment after Steve curled up to Billy's chest one night and begged for a baby. They have three of those now, bustling six-year-old Antonia, quiet three-year-old Max, and two-month-old Angelo. All three are with Auntie Max tonight, who's also moved out to the coast with Lucas and El in tow, because tonight is a special night. It's September 6th, and he and Steve are supposed to be celebrating.

Except Steve's making tiramisu and cheesecake. He's making Alfredo with shrimp and chicken and spinach, which Billy loves but knows that his husband hates. In fact, this is Billy's favorite meal, which Steve only pulls out when he's got something important to say or when Billy's feeling down. And Billy's not feeling down.

It takes some work to steal the great Stefano's attention in the kitchen, but Billy's got almost two decades worth of experience here. He hums before he touches the man - years of touch starvation and a few too many bad experiences have left the man rather skittish, especially with unexpected touches, so Billy's careful to give him warning. He presses right up against Steve's back and wraps his arms around him, fingers of his left hand slipping up under his shirt to stroke over Steve's hip while the fingers of his right hand settle just under the waistband of the brunette's sweatpants, trailing over a sensitive patch of skin. From there it's all about the kisses - little ones to the nape of Steve's neck, lazy ones on the side of his throat, nips and playful bites to the shoulder. He nuzzles at Steve's cheek a few times in between that mix and Steve lasts all of two minutes before he's melting back against Billy and gazing back at him, eyes painfully warm and full with that adoring look he always gives Billy. For a moment, the blonde can't breathe, stunned for the billionth time by Steve's beauty. He presses a soft kiss to his plump lips, slow and full of love, before nosing along his jaw.

"What are you thinking about?" he questions. Steve hums, turns from his current task of slicing his pasta dough to wrap his arms around Billy.

"You," he hums, and Billy has no doubt to the validity of that answer, but he presses anyway.

"What else?"

"What are you talking about?" Steve's eyebrow arches and Billy takes that exact moment to realize that his husband's beginning to grey, his coffee brown waves of hair showing a little speckle of silver. At thirty-five, Steve isn't really old at all, but he's got other little signs of age. He's not a lanky teenage boy anymore. But he's as stunning as ever, and Billy's heart melts as they stare at each other.

"Pretty boy, you told me you think spinach in alfredo is a sin, but you're adding it in and you only do shit like that when you've got something to share with the class. So share." His eyebrow arch as Billy opened his mouth to argue, and he hides a smile as Steve backs down.

"Fine. Sit down, Papa Blue." It's Billy's favorite nickname, received after their son Max stole the nickn baby blue. Max is biologically his, thanks to a donation from Robin. She did the same with Angelo, though their latest baby is Steve's, all big eyes and fluffy hair. Billy sits at his husband's request, and Steve sits across from him looking a little worried. "So, uh, you know how today is our anniversary?"

"Yeah, what about it?" Billy asks. Steve chews on his lip.

"Well, I called Hop this morning because he and Joyce wanna come meet little Jellybean," he begins.

"Angelo is gonna hate that nickname once he gets older," Billy warns. Steve shakes his head in amusement.

"No way, he'll love it. Or he'll at least have to tolerate it, because I'm not letting it go anytime soon. But that's besides the point. Hop and I were talking and he asked me what we did for our anniversary yesterday."

"Yesterday? Our anniversary is today, doesn't he remember?" Billy frowns as Steve runs his fingers through his hair.

"That's exactly what I said," he huffs. "But he was adamant we got married on the fifth, and so I went and checked."

"And?" Billy presses, terrified that he already knows the result. His husband bites his lip.

"And he's right. We misread the number on the date." Steve gives him a sheepish, frustrated look. "We’ve been celebrating our wedding anniversary on the wrong day for the past nine years."

"You can't be serious," Billy deadpans. Steve blinks at him.

Oh god.

It takes Billy seven seconds before he's snorting with laughter. Then he's flat-out snickering, and it doesn't take Steve long to follow. They laugh in the kitchen together until Billy's sides hurt and Steve starts to struggle for breath between his giggles.

"We've been doing it on the wrong day, what a bunch of idiots we are," Billy chuckles. Steve wipes tears of laughter away.

"Yeah, yeah," he chuckles, before his face morphs into something more apprehensive. "I'm sorry I got it wrong." Billy waves it off with one hand, a soft look settling on his face.

"Don't be. I've been making the same mistake. And I wrote the date down, I should have made my handwriting more legible." Billy's hand reaches over the table for Steve's. "Baby, I don't care that we've got the wrong date. All I care about is celebrating what we've got together, okay? I just want to celebrate the fact that I found someone who loves me more than I could ever deserve, someone who's stuck by my side through good and bad. I don't care what day we do that." He watches as Steve's anxious look melts into something significantly softer.

"Billy Hargrove, you deserve all the love this world has to offer and then some," he corrects gently. Billy's eyes crinkle softly around the edges as he smiles.

"And you've got more love in that mop on your head then the rest of the world could ever have." He stands and leans over to hold the other man's face in his hands, planting three quick kisses to his forehead. "Trust me, honey pie, you give me more love than I deserve. You give the whole world more love than it deserves." Steve's responding smile is bright and adoring, and Billy's heart melts even more.

"I love you, Billabong," he murmurs, stealing his own kiss from Billy's lips.

"And I love you, princess." They stay like that for a time, silent and content, before Steve speaks again.

"We're gonna get it right next year, right?" Billy laughs, nose wrinkling in his amusement.

"Of course. And every year after that. We can make it a two-day event, spend the first day bein' all romantic. I'm keepin' you in bed on day two, though." His smile turns into a familiar smirk. "Make you remember why you love having me around." He revels in the way his husband blushes violently, and Steve swats him away as he jumps up.

"You're a menace, Billy Hargrove. Leave me alone so I can finish cooking." He gets one last kiss before Billy backs out of the kitchen, and if he's got the same dopey grin on his face as he had in his twenties when looking at Steve Harrington, then it's neither here nor there.

[thelastspeecher]

D&D AU - Elf Kid Adventures

Hhhh I wanted to post this a couple days ago but work was busy af this week and I didn’t have the time nor energy to finish it up until today.  But here it is.  Some upbeat cheerful cute stuff to go with the good mood many of us are in tonight.  Have some adorable smol content in my D&D AU (where, for context, the McGuckets are elves and Stan is half-orc and half-elf), discover what Stan is short for in this AU, and join Stan as he realizes that he might be crushing on a member of his party.  (Hint: Stan isn’t short for Stanley.)

Enjoy.

——————————————————————————————

              The sudden burst of light that had accompanied the defeat of the necromancer faded.  Stan rubbed his eyes, trying to get rid of the afterimages.

              My hands feel…softer than usual.  He opened his eyes to look at his hands. His jaw dropped.  Shit.  Before Lute or Angie could see him, Stan hurriedly ducked behind a nearby boulder and looked himself over.  What’s the damage here?  One thing was for sure.  He was a lot smaller and skinnier than he had been a moment ago.  Dread built in his gut.

              A lock of red hair fell in front of his eyes.

              “Oh, fuck,” he whispered.  Spotting a puddle of water, Stan rushed over.  “Gods, no!”  The boy staring back at him wasn’t the rugged orcish man of mere minutes ago. “No,” Stan whined.  His reflection was skinny and gap-toothed, with wide golden eyes and freckles of the same color spilling across his cheeks.  Rambunctious red curls framed his cherubic face.  

              Stan continued to stare, distressed, at his reflection.  As an adult, there were only three things to suggest one of his parents was an elf: his pale skin, his golden eyes, and his long, pointed ears.  Normally, said ears were hidden by his hair, but now, they stuck out of his fiery locks.  No matter how hard he looked, Stan couldn’t find a single remnant of his orcish heritage, not even his pride and joy – his tusks.  

              I’m probably around twelve, then.  They started growing in when I was thirteen. Stan carefully probed around his mouth with his tongue, confirming that his tusks hadn’t come in.  I forgot just how much I used to look like Mom. If Stan didn’t know any better, he’d say the boy staring at him was a full elf.  Angie and Lute could probably tell, though.  Since they’re actually full elves.

              “Stan?”

              Speaking of…  Stan closed his eyes.

              “Yeah?” he called back.

              “Are ya okay?”  The voice was higher than usual, but sounded like it was probably Angie.

              “I’m fine.  I’m just gonna stay here.”

              “We have to regroup and figure out our next move,” Angie said, being annoyingly logical.  Stan groaned.

              “Fine, but don’t say anything, okay?”  He took a deep breath, then emerged from behind the boulder.  The second Angie and Lute laid eyes on him, their mouths dropped open in shock.

              “Yer a ginger,” Lute said flatly.  At least, Stan thought the boy who looked the equivalent of a six-year-old human was Lute.  The mop of dark hair covering his eyes made it a bit difficult to know for sure. “Do ya dye yer hair or somethin’?”

              “No, it got darker when I got older.  I look more like my Pops now, but I used to look like my Mom.”

              “I’ll say,” remarked the girl that was presumably Angie.  She walked over and looked Stan up and down.  “You look full sun elf.”  Stan’s heart did a strange backflip.

              “…Really?”

              “Oh, yeah.”

              “So, what exactly happened?” Stan asked, eager to change the topic away from his appearance.  Angie sighed.

              “I don’t rightly know.  I took down the necromancer, reversin’ him stealin’ our life force.  But I ain’t sure why it had this effect.”

              “You don’t know why we wound up twelve, and Lute wound up six, then?” Stan asked.  Lute turned red.

              “I’m still technically older ‘n ya,” Lute protested, marching over.  Angie put a hand on top of her brother’s head, quieting him.

              “Yes, Stan, we are both the equivalent of twelve-year-old humans, while Lute has become the equivalent of…”  Angie looked down at Lute.  “Honestly, a bit younger than ya first guessed.  Five years old, I think.”  Lute’s jaw dropped.  Stan snickered.  “Lute was closer to the necromancer than we were.  Maybe that was an influence?”

              “Whatever happened, I’m just glad our clothes shrunk with us,” Lute muttered.  He rubbed his eyes.  “Oof, I’m tired.”

              “You can ride on Daisy while we travel,” Angie suggested.  She whistled, and her wolf marched over.  “She’s big enough to support ya.”

              “Sounds great,” Stan interjected.  “But where are we traveling to?”  Angie and Lute looked at each other.

              “Ma ‘n Pa?” Lute suggested.  Angie nodded slowly.

              “I think they’re our best bet.  They have centuries of experience in multiple fields of magic, after all.”  Angie smiled. Stan’s heart did another backflip. “And we didn’t head too far from ‘em when we set up our station.  So’s it won’t take too long to get there.  If we don’t run into any problems, we should get there ‘fore nightfall.” Stan scoffed.

              “We’re gonna run into problems.  We’re fucking kids!” he said dismissively.  Lute nodded.

              “Fer once, I agree with Stan.”

-----

              Lute snored softly from his perch atop Daisy. Angie looked ready to pass out as well. Stan didn’t feel much more awake himself.  He dragged his feet down the path supposedly leading to the elf settlement near the McGucket farmstead.

              So much for getting there before nightfall. If that hag hadn’t slowed us down… Stan yawned.  During their trip to the settlement, they had stumbled across an old lady who promised to help them.  Lute, younger and tired, had convinced Stan they could trust the woman. But they soon found out they couldn’t, and after an exhausting fight, they’d barely managed to escape.

              “The sun’s startin’ to rise,” Angie mumbled.  She rubbed her eyes.  Sure enough, the forest around them was beginning to lighten as the sun peeked over the horizon.  “We stayed up the whole night.”

              “‘We’?” Stan scoffed.  “You guys fell asleep at that lady’s house.  I’m the only who hasn’t had a second of shuteye.”  Suddenly, a man melted out of the woods.  Stan took an instinctive step back.

              “Children, what business do you have here?” the man asked in crisp Elvish.  Angie stepped forward.

              “Lenny-” she started.  The man’s eyes widened.  He walked over to Angie and crouched down.  Much like Lute and Angie, he had copper skin.  His dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, revealing his long, pointed ears.

              “Banjoleanna McGucket?” Lenny asked, aghast.  Angie nodded.  “You look less than a century old!”

              “Lute’s less than half of one,” Angie said, nodding at Lute sleeping on Daisy.  Lenny looked over at Daisy.  His eyes widened even further.  In the dim light, they faintly glowed green.  “We were cursed.  All three of us.”

              “Three?”  Lenny’s gaze fell on Stan, who was still eyeing the strange wood elf warily. “Ah.  I assume yer not s’pposed to be a child, either?”  He had the same accent Angie and Lute did.

              Must be a local thing.  Stan nodded.

              “I’d certainly hope so.  No proper parent would let their young son wander the woods at night.”  Lenny walked over to Stan and tilted his chin to look more closely at him.  Stan allowed it to happen.

              I’m too tired to bother protesting.  Lenny raised an eyebrow.

              “Hmm.  We don’t often see sun elf nobility around here.”

              “What do you-” Stan started.

              “I’ve spent time with our mannered cousins.  I know noble sun eyes when I see ‘em. What’s yer name?”

              “Stanaximus,” Stan mumbled, giving his full, elvish name. Lenny picked Lute up off Daisy. Lute continued to sleep.

              “Stanaximus, Banjoleanna, follow me to a place where you can rest.  While ya sleep, I’ll contact the McGuckets.”  Lenny walked away.  Stan and Angie quickly followed.  Angie nudged Stan.

              “What?” Stan hissed.

              “Why didn’t ya say you were half-orc?” she whispered.

              “I don’t look like it.  By the way, what kind of name is ‘Lenny’ for an elf?”

              “It’s short fer Leandreas.”  Angie frowned at Stan.  “Yer really goin’ to keep yer orc parentage under wraps?”

              “Yeah.  At least, until we’re not surrounded by elves.”

-----

              Stan’s eyes slowly drifted open.  He wasn’t in the same room he’d fallen asleep in. Panicked, he sat bolt upright. He, Angie, and Lute had fallen asleep at the guardhouse Lenny brought them to.  Now, though, he was in what was clearly a bedroom.

              “Oh, perfect timing!” a voice chirped.  Stan looked at the entryway to the room.  A wood elf man stood there, beaming at Stan.

              Judging by his nose and that he looks just like Lute, this must be Mr. McGucket.  Stan swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

              “Stanaximus, right?” Mr. McGucket asked.

              “I, uh, I go by Stan.”

              “Stan.  Got it.” Mr. McGucket walked over and handed Stan a pile of folded clothing.  “Go ahead and get changed, then meet us downstairs in the kitchen.  The missus and I would like to look ya over so’s we can get started on reversin’ that curse.”

              “Okay,” Stan mumbled.  Mr. McGucket smiled at Stan again, then left, closing the door behind him.

              A few minutes later, Stan traipsed downstairs. He was immediately greeted by the scent of something sweet baking.  His stomach growled loudly.

              When was the last time I ate?  He followed the delicious smells to a cozy-looking kitchen. Angie sat at a table with her father and an elf woman she greatly resembled.  That must be her mom.  Lute was nowhere to be seen.  At the sound of his footsteps, the McGucket parents looked up.

              “Stan, come over here ‘n pop a squat,” Mr. McGucket said cheerfully.  Stan hesitantly walked over to the table and took a seat next to Angie.  Busy reading a book on curses, Angie didn’t look up.  Mrs. McGucket looked at him with a studious gaze. “Well, Sally?”

              “I’d say Lenny’s assessment was accurate,” Mrs. McGucket said.  She lacked the accent of her husband and children, instead speaking Elvish in a manner that was similar to how Stan’s mom spoke it.  “Young man, you look an awful lot like the sun elf nobility I spent a lot of time around before eloping with Mearl.”

              “…You spent time with sun elf nobility?” Stan asked. Mrs. McGucket nodded.  Before Stan could ask a follow-up question, his stomach rumbled again.  Mr. McGucket’s hazel eyes twinkled.

              “I’ll get ya somethin’ to eat, son,” Mr. McGucket said, getting up from his chair.  “After you’ve gotten some food in yer belly, we can examine ya to get an idea of what kind of curse we’re dealin’ with.”  Stan nodded. Mrs. McGucket raised an eyebrow.

              “You’re a bit lacking in manners, Stanaximus,” she commented.  “I’d expect someone of your station to know that you’re supposed to thank someone for a favor.”

              “Oh, uh, I-”  Stan rubbed the back of his neck.

              Great, I’m already fucking up pretending to be full elf.

              “Angie, were you and Lute poor influences on this young man?” Mrs. McGucket asked her daughter.  Angie looked up from the book she was reading.

              “What?  No!”

              “I don’t know if I believe that.”

              “Ma!” Angie whined.  Mr. McGucket placed a plate in front of Stan.  Stan immediately recognized the food he’d been given.  It was a bread made of polenta and honey, and a rare treat that his mom would make on special occasions.  It had even been served the same way he remembered from his childhood, sliced and slathered with butter.

              “Honey loaf,” Stan said quietly.  Mrs. McGucket beamed.

              “I thought you might enjoy a taste of home. Sun elf recipes can be difficult sometimes, but this is one that’s worth the hassle.”

              “…Thank you,” Stan said.  Mrs. McGucket’s smile broadened.

              “Of course, hon.”

              As Stan ate the honey loaf, he glanced at Angie next to him.  She was still engrossed in her book, her silver eyes darting back and forth.  The sunlight caught her hair, making its already golden hue look near metallic.  Her green freckles were more numerous than they had been as an adult; he could see them trailing past the ends of her short sleeves, down her forearms.  Eventually, Angie looked at him.  Stan’s heart did a weird flip.

              “Is there somethin’ wrong?” she asked.

              “Huh?”

              “Yer starin’ at me,” Angie pointed out.

              “Oh, I was just, um, you- you have more freckles,” Stan said weakly.  He could feel his cheeks burning, but wasn’t sure why.  Angie rolled her eyes.

              “So do you.  By which I mean that you actually have freckles.  Ya didn’t before.”  Angie’s eyes lit up.  She closed her book.  “Oh! By the by, I mentioned that ya never got any lessons on magic as a kid, and my ma offered to help ya out!”

              “I mean, the reason I never got lessons was ‘cause I’m no good at it,” Stan mumbled.  Angie huffed.

              “It could easily be the other way,” she said, punching his shoulder playfully.  Stan grinned despite himself, his cheeks continuing to burn.  He looked back at the McGucket parents.  They were exchanging a knowing look.

              What are they so smug about?  Stan opened his mouth to ask why they were smirking, only for Mrs. McGucket to speak before he could.

              “You know, Angie, you being a kidlet again, it reminds me of when you were this age before,” Mrs. McGucket said, stroking Angie’s hair.  “When Max courted you, it was when you were in your sixties, right?”

              “Yeah,” Angie confirmed.  Stan’s heart began to race.

              “Such a sweet boy.”

              “Angie, you have a suitor?” Stan blurted out. Angie frowned at him.

              “I was courted when I was in my sixties and clearly ain’t married now.  What do you think?” she asked.

              “Fine, I just- why didn’t you say anything about it?” Stan stammered.

              “Because it was decades ago.  Why are ya so upset about it?”

              “I’m not upset,” Stan said.  He looked to the McGucket parents for support.  The knowing look was back.  “I’m just-”  Stan stopped his sentence abruptly, the blood draining from his face.

              Heart jumping around, blushing, jealousy? Stan wiped his suddenly damp hands on his borrowed pants.  Sweaty palms?  Shit. Stupid kid body, stupid kid hormones!

              “Just what?” Angie prompted.

              “…Never mind,” Stan mumbled.

              No, you don’t have a crush on Angie.  You don’t! You-

              “Yer such an oddball,” Angie said, chuckling. Her laughter sounded like bells. Butterflies fluttered in Stan’s stomach.

              …You do.  With a cheeky smile, Mr. McGucket took the empty plate from Stan. And her parents know.

              “Stanaximus, have you ever courted before?” Mrs. McGucket asked idly.  Stan swallowed.

              This won’t end well.

[solecize]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. you never forget your first love. sometimes you don’t want to. other times, you can’t. 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. yuta x reader 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄. fluff / angst / high school au 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. mature language, death, mentions of a car accident, violence and verbal abuse 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 7.7k words 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. i finished this at 5am so its a little wonky and definitely not proofread

FOURTEEN.

the sun barely peaked out from the far horizon of the osaka skyline and the sweet smell of morning dew filled your lungs. a heavy backpack weighing down your shoulders, you hated walking to school in the mornings. clunk. clunk. clunk. the sound of your shoes drumming against the pavement guiding your path became a steady rhythm and your concerns of the day to come drowned within them; a physics test in the morning, a presentation at the end of the day, and the fact that you forgot to pack yourself a lunch. again. these thoughts settled into a roaming and wandering pace as you made your way to school.

wisps of golden rays broke though and in between branches and houses that you strolled past. specifically, the one house that you continuously walked back and forth in front of. ‘come on,’ you thought, waiting for the right moment. this routine that you’d been practicing since elementary school occurred at the almost exact same time every single time.

then, you heard the front door click. with that, you rushed back a couple steps and ignored the army marching through your chest. punctual as ever, yuta was ready. thankfully for you, that meant that you could ‘casually’ run into him on your way to school and walk together. that was the only thing you liked about walking in the mornings.

“oh, hey. good morning.” yuta bore a small smile, as he looked at you over his shoulder and locked the front door. the boy had yet to caught on to the fact that your presence was suspiciously always on time for him to exit his house.

your expression lit up when the eyes of the boy who you so deeply admired met yours. “good morning, yuta.” your smile leapt to your eyes.

as he did every morning, he jogged his way over to where you were and began walking at your side. the mere presence of him just an elbow’s touch away caused the bottom of your stomach to not just do backflips, but an entire gymnastic routine. somehow, you managed to catch your breath.

SIXTEEN. 

“and then, he went all ‘bang!’” your hands waved wildly, the words were overflowing from your lips and the rush of adrenaline still fresh in your veins.

miho watched you with a single raised eyebrow, half used to your antics, but was still bewildered at your longstanding crush on soccer star nakamoto yuta. even under the dim streetlights of that hazy and humid september evening, the rogue flush glowing at the apples of your cheeks was too obvious. she simply giggled and looped her arm around yours.

the narrow streets were littered with clusters of students from your school, laughter and chatter being heard from a mile away. the joyous buzz in the air was due to the soccer game that just occurred against the team’s arch rivals, which was won in a last minute dramatic fashion. the saviour of the night? he was walking towards you.

wait, what?

although surrounded by other team members clad in navy blue tracksuits, yuta easily stood out. everyone and anyone bombarded the guy as soon as he came within sight, wanting to congratulate and praise him for his talent and efforts. for some reason, though, there was a different gleam of purpose in his bright eyes.

your heartbeat quickened, but your steady walking pace remained. this was mostly due to miho’s pointed look, as she saw the way you nearly froze up at the sight of yuta—as you always did. up until this point, you weren’t sure what got to you. his charming smile, his kind heart, the way he poured passion into everything he did . . .you were a goner. however, you also had a pile of homework waiting for you when you got home and couldn’t slow down for him, who probably had a celebration to get to.

still, that didn’t change the fact that yuta was making a beeline in your direction. you thought you were imagining it, until you heard him call your name. then, a second time. at this point, you turned around without even realizing that you’d lost control of your body.

“oof—” he ran straight into you the moment you turned around. you wobbled for a second, but yuta’s strong arms caught you almost instantly.

his eyes widened. “oh, shit, i’m so sorry—”

“—no, it’s, um, it’s okay, really!” you exclaimed and wanted to shrivel up when you realized how high your voice became. miho snickered behind you, but you ignored it.

a grin stretched across yuta’s face and the butterflies in your stomach awoke. something about his presence, his spirit lit a spark inside of you. he absentmindedly ran a hand through his hair and opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it and proceeded to play with the words on the tip of his tongue. you weren’t sure what was going on.

yuta asked, “did you enjoy the game?” at this point, he was full on ignoring the passerbys, save for the polite head nod for the congratulations he was receiving. all of his attention was on you.

“yeah, of course,” you nodded, maybe a little too vigorously. “you were really great out there. i mean it.”

“couldn’t have done it without my trusted medic.”

FIFTEEN.

you weren’t sure how exactly you were coaxed into this, but it seemed to have happened in the blink of an eye. everyone in your study group slowly began to flow out of yuta’s home, until it was just the two of you and studying wasn’t the main priority anymore. you weren’t in any rush to go home, considering your home was just a five minute walk away, and, of course, not wanting to pass up the opportunity to spend time with yuta.

“i don’t think i’m exactly fit for this,” you told him nervously, as he lead you onto the empty street by hand.

the evening went from homework to goofing around on youtube. the two of you had been exchanging music and favourite artists, which finally came down to stumbling across soccer clips. yuta then had the brilliant idea of teaching you soccer after you reminded him how much you loathed sports. for whatever reason, that brought you here.

yuta scoffed. “trust me, you’ll get the hang of it easily.”

the breeze blew softly, a relief on a hot summer night like this one. you sighed at the humidity and watched yuta. he dropped the soccer ball onto the ground and it hummed against the concrete, as he started to dribble it.

“you gotta pass with the inside of your foot,” he explained, though you were a little too mesmerized by his gorgeous calf muscles. “like this!” yuta demonstrated and passed the ball over to you like second nature.

somehow, you managed to stop the ball. it had to be either luck or the fear that it was going to crash into one of mrs. nakamoto’s potted plants. your eyes widened in shock. considering you could barely walk without tripping, this was an accomplishment.

he beamed. “great, now pass it over to me.”

what was intended to be a soft, gentle pass ended up being a hard kick to the, well, danger zone. it all happened so fast and before you knew it, the ball hit him with a loud smack! and yuta was trying to resist doubling over. his face contorted and body folded over in swallowed down pain, wincing.

you gasped and rushed over, endless apologies coming out. “oh my god, ohmygod, ohmy—”

“it’s okay, it’s okay!” yuta was gasping for air and you wrapped your arm around his shoulders, trying to help him stand up.

despite being in obvious distress, yuta still managed to laugh upon seeing your reaction. he didn’t realize how much he liked being aided to until you went out of your way to help him back inside and give him an ice pack. he didn’t realize how much he liked teaching his favourite thing to another person until he forced you outside and taught the basics of soccer to your clumsy ass.

most importantly, he didn’t realize how much he could like a person until you.

SIXTEEN.

you rolled your eyes, but you were, without a doubt, dying inside knowing that he remembered that day. “ha. hilarious.”

others continued to weave around you two and you were certain that it looked a little odd, probably annoying, that you were just standing in the middle of a crowded sidewalk. even miho had whispered that she would catch up with you later and snuck away. however, yuta didn’t budge.

“can i walk you home? it’s getting dark and i’m sure you can handle yourself, but just to be extra safe. . .” yuta offered and this took you by surprise.

“you guys just won the most important game of the season, isn’t there some sort of team celebration that you have to get to?” you raised your eyebrows, but allowed him to lead the way to your neighbourhood.

he shrugged. “everyone’s tired. besides, i wanted to, erm, talk to you.”

looking behind you, it seemed that the boys from the team were indeed dispersing, but strangely enough, were all looking in your direction. as if being caught red handed in a robbery, they all froze on the spot when they met your eyes and turned the other way immediately. yuta noticed this and grumbled something under his breath, but you didn’t catch it.

“about. . .?”

“uh, well, we’ve been friends for a while now, right?” yuta scratched the back of his neck with a tension in his movement.

shit. he found out about your crush on him. surely, he just wanted to let you down easy or something. you chomped down hard, teeth grinding against each other in pure agony. this was not happening. you managed to nod your head slowly.

he continued, “well, there’s something i’ve been meaning to tell you.” his eyes, full of fire, wandered all over, except to meet yours. “ask you, er, actually.”

you blinked, trying your best to ignore the bubble of hope forming in your chest. “what do you mean?” because there was no way he was talking about what you’d been dreaming of for god knows how long.

he slowed down in his tracks and for a few moments, there was a calm.

“i like you.” yuta finally spat out, the wind knocked out of him and you nearly fell over attempting to halt in your route. “and i wanted to ask if you’d go out with me.”

cashmere moonlight illuminated the aged roads of osaka where joy danced in the air—the joy of victory, youth, and, now, first love. time seemed to suspend just for a few moments and it tasted like fireworks. a round of whoops emerged from where yuta left him teammates behind, but it was all white noise to you.

everything was blurry and unimportant, except for him.

SEVENTEEN.

“why did we invite these two?” miho groaned, watching the two of you from the other side of the room.

it hadn’t even been a minute since entering the karaoke lounge, but you and yuta were already cuddled up in the corner of one of the couches. he had pulled you onto his lap and you let out a loud giggle at the contact. snaking his arms around your waist, you knew that you were not leaving this place for the rest of the night.

yuta raised an eyebrow. “that’s awfully rude. we’re your friends.” his signature cheeky smile formed and you couldn’t help but press a kiss on his cheek.

“you guys have been on this lovey-dovey honeymoon shit for, like, a year now,” one of yuta’s teammates groaned.

“sucks for you guys.” you grinned in response and began flipping through one of the song books.

it was the middle of the summer going into your last year of high school and you were certain of it—you didn’t have a single care in the world. it was the last summer of pure freedom and everyone felt it all around them. it was a ticking time bomb, a countdown that result in late nights out with all of your friends. tonight it brought you to karaoke.

yuta tucked a piece of stray hair behind your ear. “i like this colour on you.” you’d just dyed your hair a few shades lighter than your natural shade a couple of nights ago as apart of a dare. of course, you did it, but the more you looked at it, the worse it seemed to look.

“really?” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“duh. you look good in everything.”

you brought your face close to his ear, so that the conversation could only be heard between the two of you. “you should go sing something.”

“uh, what?” his face scrunched up jokingly, but you gave him a knowing eye.

it started off one day when you were chilling alone, just watching mamma mia on his couch. for whatever reason, yuta knew enough of the songs to be able to sing along. that’s when you discovered his gift of possibly the sweetest, smoothest voice you’ve ever heard. angelic, you insisted, but he was always too shy and didn’t acknowledge it.

since then, you’ve paid extra attention when you catch him singing under his breath, humming, or even just whistling. everyone told him how good he was, but he didn’t even consider it. nevertheless, it was the same glimmer in yuta’s eyes when he sang his favourite song as the one when he was on the field.

suddenly, the weight beneath you shifted. yuta had pushed you off his lap effortlessly, taking the song book. this forced you to stand up on your feet and left you confused.

he beckoned his friend that held the microphones over and took them from him. “what are you doing?” you asked.

“let’s sing a duet, then.” at this, all of your friends cheered in response to this unusual action from yuta. he’d always be the one to just sit in the corner with his drink, hype up everyone else, and maybe give some background vocals in the form of yelling.

“oh, really?” you laughed, not believing what was happening.

“what? i like trying new things with you,” yuta declared with a grin and passed a microphone to you, which you barely caught. “you better keep up.”

the night unfolded just like that, with nineties throwback jams and laughter all around. miho captured the memory on her polaroid and you kept several of these pictures to stow away, probably in some shoebox under your bed. however, for now, you lived these pictures. you lived them with yuta, always pushing each other to your boundaries and always with the best of hearts.

SEVENTEEN.

it started with that one time at the amusement park when you nearly lost your shit at the top of the ferris wheel. then, he noticed the way you squirmed trying to walk across the metal grates downtown where you could see just how deep it went past those holes. you never wanted to join your friends when they would have lunch on the school rooftop.

you had a fear of heights.

one promise was made clear between the two of you at the start of your senior year in high school: to make the best out of it. yuta figured that this meant pushing you to face what scared you the most. this was the first of them.

with a sigh, you suddenly found your shoes to be the most interesting thing in the world. “i really don’t know about this.”

“we took a three hour bus ride to get here and you’re not sure about this?” yuta folded his arms across his chest. “you’re the one that suggested we all go to the beach.”

you gnawed on your bottom lip. “well, yeah, but i meant to go swimming or tan or play volleyball! this—” you beckoned down to the aquamarine ocean line, “—is not what i meant, yuta!”

kicking a piece of rock, it flew right off the edge and deep down into the shore below. you watched it and the distance it made, which only caused you to stiffen up even further. the cliff had to be at least twenty meters high and despite the beautiful crystal waters, it felt like diving into a black hole. your eyes remained glued to the mocha dirt between your feet, as the sight only pumped your blood faster and faster.

yuta chuckled softly and you smacked his arm. “this isn’t funny!”

raising his hands up in defense, he approached you slowly. “come on. you’re the bravest girl i know.” your boyfriend tried to tip your chin up, but you tore in away. “you’ve been telling me for years about how you’ve wanted to get over this.”

“yeah, but we all know i’m a pussy ass bitch.”

he rolled his eyes, but wrapped his arms around you from behind and kissed your temple. “come on. if you do it, i’ll buy you food.”

you scoffed. “you think i’m that easily bought?”

even though he didn’t say a word, the look that yuta gave you was enough to indicate his agreement. you looked between him and the seemingly endless jump that awaited you just a few steps away. squinting at the sun, you let out a loud breath.

“well?” yuta asked hopefully.

you rubbed the ring on your left hand, a habit formed in the confrontation with your nerves, and braced yourself. in a twist of fate, you found yourself walking a few steps back and for a second, he thought that you were leaving. then, yuta saw the look on your face and grinned. it was enough for him to know. squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to steady yourself.

“you have to jump right after me, okay?!” you didn’t mean to yell, but everything began to muffle except for the pounding in your ears.

yuta said, “you got it, baby.” he began clapping and whooping, building up your energy at your side.

it was like flying. you ran and ran until your entire body was wrapped around blankets of air and freedom. you finally opened your eyes, wide and bright, to the world around you. it was pure lunacy. it must’ve lasted forever, because when you emerged from the sharp waters and gasping for air, yuta was already right beside you.

a boil of hysteria formed at the base of your throat. one giggle lead to another, until you were having a full on fest of laughter. you couldn’t stop and watching you, yuta couldn’t help but start laughing, too. you flung your arms around him in the tightest embrace, still shaking from the nerves, but in the best way possible. you planted a deep kiss on his lips and he groaned.

“i guess that wasn’t so—” you were cut off by yuta’s lips, capturing yours once again.

SEVENTEEN.

everyone knew you and yuta to be the couple that was late to almost everything. however, most were not aware of the fact that it was almost strictly because of him. sometimes, you had to step back and marvel at just how good he was at wasting time when getting ready for something.

“oh my god, is it possible to take any longer than this?” you yelled at him from his bedroom balcony, as you absentmindedly scrolled through your phone. at the same time, you ignored the angry messages from your friends, wondering where the two of you were.

the sound of the blow dryer finally came to a stop. “relax, there’s no need to rush.”

“it’s the last school festival we’re ever gonna have and you don’t wanna rush?” you quipped back.

this happened every time, so you weren’t nearly as irritated as you should’ve been. this was considering you woke up extra early to pick out your outfit and actually attempt real makeup on your face. it made you a little nervous, considering you made enough effort to brush your hair and throw on the nicest skirt you owned, albeit after digging through your closet for who knows how long. you arrived at yuta’s almost an hour before you were supposed to leave and without surprise, he was still in bed.

since this happened every time, you had one simple method that worked every time. all it took was one iced cube for nakamoto yuta, the mighty star player of your school’s soccer team, to squeal like a four year old and scramble out of bed. soon enough, he was in the shower and belting to chris brown at the top of his lungs.

he definitely didn’t get out soon enough.

you got up to bang on his bathroom door, but before you could do so, it swung open. yuta was fully dressed in casual attire of an oversized hoodie, a jean jacket, and black sweats. a baseball cap nestled the top of his pristine hair and you immediately swiped it off.

“hey—” yuta began to protest, but then his eyes scanned your appearance and his jaw was left hanging.

clearly, you didn’t notice, because you continued ranting. “if you took all that time to blow dry your hair, why the hell did you put on a hat?”

“you look. . .”

“we are so late and—”

he clamped a hand over your mouth, only getting a further rise out of you. “can you just listen to me?” but, this didn’t stop your attempts and yelling through his hand.

yuta didn’t let go until you had the bright idea to lick his hand, at which he let out a chorus of “yuck, ew, gross” and spun around to wash his hands immediately. you snickered at his reaction, but were still heated.

he gave you a dirty look. “damn, a guy can’t tell his girl that she looks beautiful?”

“not when the guy is the reason for them being an hour and a half late!” you cried. jaw set, you had to admit that this would normally get your heart pounding, but it was going to be your fist’s turn if he didn’t hurry. long gone were the days where you couldn’t speak the truth to yuta and now, you’d cuss him out at any given time.

he chuckled and placed a hand on your cheek. “well, you do. i don’t know what you did, but you look good, all dressed up and stuff.”

you let him bring you into a gentle embrace and melted into him almost instantaneously. “yeah, yeah, whatever,” you said into his chest. “by the way, i really enjoyed the concert you put on there.”

yuta’s ears turned slightly red, but he laughed it off. “thanks. i’ve been practicing.” he looked over and noticed the balcony door open, the curtains blowly softly against the wall. “were you just on my balcony?”

“yeah, it’s way too hot in here.”

“willingly? alone? at a high height?” he dramatically gaped and you hit his arm.

you replied, “ergh, yes, okay? let’s move on now.” you couldn’t bite back the small grin that was forming on your face and there was no way he didn’t notice it.

the two of you eventually raced out the front door and began a rock paper scissors competition to decide who would have to face an angry miho, who’d been waiting for you two for hours.

EIGHTEEN.

you shared all of the most painful moments of your life with yuta. he was there for you after every test you failed, every sad movie that pulled at your heartstrings, and every time you plucked your eyebrows. just thinking about him, you could easily remember the way his arms felt like home, when nothing else in the world seemed to matter.

“she’s going to be okay, come on. .  .” he murmured into your ear, as he stroked your hair. “please, just breathe, baby.”

“miho was on her way to see me! she shouldn’t have—” you couldn’t finish the sentence, a strangled sob choking your words to bits.

yuta rocked you back and forth in his arms as you tried to look for some sort of light, but the bland eggshell walls of the hospital corridor provided nothing to comfort you. there was no one else waiting for miho except you. you were all she had.

that day, she ended up surviving the fatal car accident. you were certain that you would have gone mad if it weren’t for yuta’s warm arms and the sweet nothings he assured into your being. he was your strength that day.

likewise, yuta shared all the most painful moments of his life with you. you were there for him after every injury he suffered on the field, after every screaming match with his hotheaded father, and every lost game that he took. you somehow made him laugh on his way to the infirmary. you found every way to cheer him up after a bad game. most of all, you were the one who cradled him and let him sob into your chest in the rare moments when he would lose all control after a fight with his dad.

it was about one in the morning when you awoke in a startle. the sound of a pile of your textbooks toppling over from your desk created what seemed to be an earthquake at an ungodly hour. you awoke to your heart beating wildly, unsure of what to expect.

thankfully, it was just your idiot boyfriend, who had no idea how to climb into a room through a window. unsure of what was going on, your first instinct to whisper yell at him about whatever the hell he was doing and the fact that your parents could have woken up, but then you saw. you saw his dead eyes and his slumped over figure.

“did he. . .”

you hadn’t seen yuta in about a week, ever since his father was hospitalized. he didn’t elaborate on any details when he explained the situation to you, but you knew it was fatal. he didn’t even want you visiting.

“yeah. he went real quick and just like that,” yuta took in a deep breath, “it was over.”

you immediately sat up on your bed and made room for him, to which he immediately occupied. all you wanted to do was reach out and touch him, to enclasp his hardened joints and cold skin. looking over at him, though, it seemed like the hardest thing to do. you’d never seen yuta so empty before.

you cleared your throat, while eyeing your bedroom door to ensure all lights remained off. “shouldn’t you be with your mom and sister?”

“i dropped them off at home so they could sleep. i wanted to call you, but,” yuta shrugged, “i’m here now.”

after that, yuta didn’t talk for the rest of the night. though he stared blankly at your popcorn ceiling as if he was in another world, you kept him grounded. you talked about anything and anything to distract him. the soccer game on television that evening, the new, hideous curtains that your mother put in the living room, how you just learned to do some basic sewing, the neighbourhood gossip. you talked until your throat strained and begged for you to give up. but, you didn’t give up until the first streams of ginger orange and rose emerged from the horizon beyond your tiny window.

by then, he coasted into a deep sleep into the crook of your neck and one arm slung over your torso. you buried your face in his hair, hand clutched in his. pain always hurt, but neither of you ever had to hurt alone.

EIGHTEEN.

you shared all of the most painful moments of your life with yuta, but you never anticipated the day when one of those moments would be because of him.

“what do you mean?” you felt like you’d just been punched in the gut, your lips parting in shock.

yuta pushed his tongue to the inside of his cheek and set down his soda on the rooftop ledge. “i mean, i’m leaving. i’m going to accept their offer of admission.” his eyes were downcast and he felt like he was holding onto all of the weight in the world.

“but-but, i—” you started, but couldn’t find the words.

nothing seemed real in that moment. you shook your head and turned away, finding the door to be the only option. however, watching even your smallest of movements, yuta knew you too well and easily predicted what you were going to do next.

he grabbed your arm before you could walk away. “can we just talk about this first?”

“like the way you talked to me about applying to schools overseas?” you shot, though your voice was quieter than usual.

like every other couple in the graduating class, your future was up in the air. it was floating and it seem like every time to made a move to reach out and grab for it, all that slipped through your fingers was pure nothingness. void. you didn’t want to think about it, instead opting to live in the moment.

however, with the changing leaves and the aforementioned ticking time bomb became the background music to your every day life. there always seemed to be something that popped out of nowhere to remind you of what you dreaded—the fact that you were running out of time.

yuta ran a hand through his hair. “it wasn’t the plan, i just kinda did it on a whim and i never expected. . .” his shoulders slumped.

it was then you realized that yuta was no longer living by the same hour.

although you avoided talking about it, you and yuta were with each other every step of the way since the year began. you thought the happy ending plan you concocted in your plan was officially set in motion and absolutely nothing could go wrong.

wrong.

though you knew deep inside that this wasn’t a bad thing, that you shouldn’t be upset at yuta, there was a nagging feeling at the pit of your stomach. every bad scenario that could possibly be generated suddenly flashed before your very eyes and at that, your entire body stiffened.

your heart ached and you couldn’t help but step forward to place a hand on his chest. “listen. i’m happy for you and i’m not trying to hurt your feelings, but,” you shook your head, “that shit really hurt mine.”

before he could say anything, you took off the sweater he’d given to just a few minutes earlier when the two of you arrived. the cold breeze felt like knives against your flesh, but you ignored it. for your entire life, you knew that you were as fragile as glass. however, you never truly felt it up until this moment.

“come on, it’s not that serious,” yuta said, eyes widened.

you replied, “it doesn’t matter. this is, um, just a lot to take in.” shaking your head, you broke free of his grasp.

just as you approached the stairs to return back to the school building, you hear yuta’s voice from behind you.

“i’m not letting this be the end.”

EIGHTEEN.

when the guests began pouring out of your front door, you took this as an opportunity to sneak out the back and around to escape the dreadful atmosphere. this wasn’t to say that you weren’t grateful for the careful orchestration done to ensure a successful surprise party, you were really blown away by the plan made by your family and miho. walking into your living room to be met with a crowd of people to celebration your recent acceptance to university was the highlight of your day and the second last thing you expected.

the last thing you expected had followed you out your back door, having kept a close eye on you since the start of the party. yuta had not spoken to you in a week, not since the reveal on the school rooftop. you stated that you needed space and he respected that, but there was no way he wasn’t going to celebrate your massive academic accomplishments, especially when he was the rock to keep you stable all of this years.

plus, miho would’ve killed him.

“hey, hey, hey,” yuta’s unmistakable voice chimed in behind you, “where are you going?”

“i needed some air,” you said, without turning around.

he jogged up to you and began walking by your side. you didn’t look at him. you weren’t sure why.

yuta said, “it’s crazy how fast everything’s going now,” he shoved his hands into his pockets. “it seems like yesterday we were just fourteen and screwing around, doing whatever without caring about tomorrow.”

“. . .yeah. i think i’m going to go crazy thinking about what’s going to happen tomorrow, or the day after.” the confession tasted bitter and it showed crystal clear in your features. “like, obviously, the party was great and all but it was just another reminder of all this shit building up.”

“you have no reason to worry,” yuta scoffed. “you have so much to look forward to. i know you aren’t afraid to be on your own next year.”

“but, that’s the thing, yuta!” you bellowed. “i’m not afraid, i’m terrified. i wasn’t going be afraid because i wasn’t going to be on my own, i was supposed to have you.” it took all of your strength to even attempt to stop your voice from shaking.

like you’d always done, you found yourself immediately melting back into his arms, like they were your rightful place. “believe it or not, i am so fucking ecstatic for you. i just—”

“—wish we wouldn’t have to go our own ways?” yuta finished for you, a sad smile playing on his lips.

you nodded. “it’s stupid, but you’ve been by my side forever. and i want the best for you and trust me, i know this school is perfect for you.”

“you looked into it?”

“of course i did,” you managed to laugh. “and it checks off every single box for your dream school.”

the conversation was a volcano, waiting to erupt in the shadows for quite some time. thankfully, it wasn’t destructive. the two of you sat down on the edge of the sidewalk, still not letting go of each other. similar to leisurely flowing lava, it was warm and of beauty unlike any other.

yuta cupped your cheek and you swore you would have given anything to freeze those few seconds of time to keep. “you know, no matter what happens, you’ll always have my heart.”

that night, yuta took you to the same arcade he brought you to on your first date at fifteen. you shared laughter and exchanged music like you had for many years. the fear settling deep into both of your bodies seemed to fade for that one night. because, although he wanted to be strong and reject it, yuta was as scared as you were.

“you aren’t making the wrong decision,” you assured him, over and over again.

just like that, the magma begun to settle. the fog started to clear, but you weren’t sure if whatever hid behind it all was what you wanted. regardless, for those few seconds in time, everything seemed to be okay.

EIGHTEEN.

"stop crying, loser.”

“i am not crying!” you insisted with a laugh, as you hastily swiped at the tears brimming in your eyes. “i am totally fine, this is totally happening.”

standing in the middle of the parking lot of the ceremony hall, you looked a little ridiculous. you’d long given up on wearing heels and opted to go barefoot, your makeup was smeared, and you already ripped your gown by accident when you stepped on it going down the stairs. yuta didn’t see you that way, though.

he saw you for what you were: the smart, strong, gorgeous girl that he’d been in love with for the past four years of his life. the first girl he’d ever loved. he’d gone on believing that you were going to be the last, too, but that dream was shattered into pieces now. somehow, he accepted this with a smile.

“i guess this is goodbye,” he jokingly extended his hand, to which you slapped it out of the way and nearly jumped on him for a bone crushing hug. yuta laughed and hugged you back just as tight, beginning to twirl you around and ignored the way his cap toppled off his head in the process. 

all of a sudden, you heard a loud honk. he let go of you and you noticed that your family was waiting for you to get in the car. you sighed. his eyes met yours and the silence was enough.

he pressed a kiss against your cheek, one last time. “bye, angel.”

TWENTY FIVE.

nothing was the same. your parents had long moved out of your childhood home and to the other side of the city. you lost contact with all of your high school friends and as far as you knew, they’d all moved to different points of the country. upon returning to your hometown, there was nothing left for you anymore.

dropping the last of your cardboard boxes, thankfully not one of the ones marked with ‘fragile,’ miho let out a loud huff. “finally! i thought this shit would never end,” she grumbled.

you kicked the box aside to the back wall of you brand new apartment. “thanks for helping me out.”

she was the last of your old friends to remain in osaka, having built her life here after graduation as a police officer. in fact, miho was the last of your old friends to stick by your side ever since. some were appalled at the turn of events that occurred  in your life and ostracized you. others simply faded away naturally. miho was the first of them to enter your life and you were in pure relief when she promised that she wouldn’t leave your side.

miho was the one you dragged into your washroom to take the five tests to see if they were really accurate. when yuta was long gone, she was your rock. when you had to go through school with a young kid, she was your source of encouragement through strings of letters, phone calls, and text messages.

she was the last constant in your life in the ‘before’ and the ‘after.’

“duh, do you know how excited i am for you to be back?!” miho squealed, hugging you for what seemed to be the hundredth time since you arrived back in town just a year before.

you beamed. “i just. . .can’t believe it.” looking out the window, you realized that you left so much of yourself when you left at eighteen. now that you were back, you weren’t sure if you wanted to pick up where you left off.

your oldest friend nodded in understanding. suddenly, there was a loud chime and miho checked her phone immediately, frowning at her screen. she shoved in back into her purse and sighed.

“i really don’t want to leave you alone, but i have to go,” she said.

you nodded in understanding. “it’s okay. go. i have to go grocery shopping for me and the little dude over there anyway,” you replied. “i’ll catch up with you tomorrow for lunch?”

the small boy sitting at your newly moved couch looked up at the mention of himself. he’d been occupied the entire time with power rangers reruns and you walked over to him, scooping him up in a cuddle. yosuke was at the age where he whined at every form of physical affection from his mother, even if they were the best of friends like the two of you were.

“of course,” miho said and followed you. she cooed at yosuke, who’s eyes were still glued to the tablet screen in his hands. taking his chubby cheeks between her manicured fingers and pinching them, the kid let out a loud groan and you gave him a pointed look.

you cleared your throat. “say bye to auntie miho.”

“bye auntie miho,” yosuke mumbled with a grimace painted across his face.

standing up, you began to walk miho to the door. she slipped on her heels, ranting about the warm weather in november, but to be honest, you were mostly tuning her out in favour of just appreciating miho’s presence in the first place. just like old times.

you opened the door for her and waved her goodbye. however, just as you were about to close it, the door beside your apartment opened. whether it was out of curiosity or some cruel trick by destiny, you look out to greet your neighbour.

what came next couldn’t have happened in your wildest dreams.

everything was the same. sure, he grew out his hair a little bit longer, but yuta looked exactly the same in that dusty parking lot, when the two of you were eighteen. a lollipop dangled from his mouth, like before, and his surroundings were drowned out by earphones plugged into both of his ears. he still wore his late father’s titanium watch, no matter how aged it was. yuta’s eyes met yours and you were a goner, like you always were. it was more than a punch to the gut, but a full on blow to the face and a kick to the shins. your entire body felt like it’d just been battered. you couldn’t breathe.

for half a second, he glanced away. then, the nooks and crannies of his memories that hadn’t been touched in years became triggered. yuta looked up and he could’ve sworn, everything in the world stopped. his mouth ran dry and the vulnerability that settled in his bones felt as though he’d been caught in the middle of a crime.

yuta wanted to say your name, to see if it was really you, but nothing seemed to croak out.

“this can’t be real.” you didn’t know you were saying this out loud, but the words just spilled out of your mouth. you felt like a wax candle, eventually vanishing the hotter your flame grew. this couldn’t be happening.

he sputtered, “i can’t—”

you suddenly became aware of your appearance and wanted to just hide away. with your hair twisted into a half-assed bun and clad in an old t-shirt and denim overalls, you looked more like the visiting plumber than a tenant.

“—believe it,” you finished for him, trying to let the oxygen enter your body. “um, sorry, i just moved in, so i’m not really fit to be seen by actual humans.”

neither of you were sure how to go about this, both wanting to go in for a hug, but hesitated. after a few awkward attempts, yuta eventually went ‘fuck it’ and just completely squashing you into an embrace. you weren’t sure how long the hug lasted for. maybe an hour. a couple minute. a few seconds. but even just a quarter of that was enough for you. the smell of musk and teakwood filled your senses and you were lost again, forgetting about what this reunion meant for you.

“you look great.” yuta just saw you the way he’d always remembered you. “you still look the same.” he chuckled, taken aback and blown away.

you scrunched your nose. “do i?” there was no way he was being serious.

“just like the night of the spring festival.”

that was what took you by surprise, the fact that he remembered that night, much less what you looked like. still, the whole situation was not fully processed in your mind. you shook your head, blinking your doubts away.

you tried to form your words. “what, erm, are you doing here?” the awkward laugh that came out of your mouth was enough to say it all. “i mean, last i heard, you became a big shot, working for some company in europe.”

“i moved back to japan a few weeks ago,” yuta revealed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “i wanted to work back home.” though the smile on his face was small, it was enough to bring you back to the bliss of your relationship with him.

none of this was real.

you were dizzy. seeing yuta felt like seeing a ghost from your past. this wasn’t supposed to be what moving back to osaka was about. seven years away meant seven years of growth and even harder, moving on. you finally snapped yourself out of the fragrant, intoxicating daze that was nakamoto yuta and realized you had to confront the reality.

“what—” you started,

he shrugged and leaned against his door frame. “why travel the world when you feel like you’re, well, missing something?” yuta asked. “i mean, i had a lot going for me. but, something felt wrong.”

this was just honesty from yuta. after years away from his roots, there had to be a reason why he traced his footprints back to home. maybe it was after pleading to the stars for an answer, but standing in front of you seemed like the twist of fate he’d been seeking.

“nothing beats home and family, right?”

it was too late. from the ringing in your ears, you didn’t hear the tiny footsteps plopping right behind you on your new, carpeted floors. you didn’t hear the distant video music come to an abrupt pause. you didn’t hear any of it and then, you felt a tug at your pant leg.

“i’m hungry,” yosuke yawned, looking up at you through his long eyelashes.

all the colour in yuta’s face drained. you rubbed the ring on your left hand and tore your gaze away from yuta and instead focused on your son. “okay, yosuke, go back inside and i’ll make you lunch, honey.” you forced a smile, but yosuke just gave a confused side glance at yuta. nonetheless, he retreated back inside.

yuta always imagined what it would be like if he crossed paths with you again. in most of these fantasies, you’d fall right back into his arms. he rarely considered the idea that you would have someone else. he didn’t even entertain the notion at all, the dead clutch of hope still remaining within him.

“yosuke?” he asked slowly, trying to memorize the details of the little boy’s face and all he saw were your features.

it was the hardest thing for you to say.

“yeah. my son.”

𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂.

i like you (exo remake) - weathercast severely - ft island milk - f(x) at the end - chungha you were beautiful - day6

[celosiaa]

steady, love (chapter 6)

Summary:

Martin is not doing well.

Jon is there with him through every step.

(because I became obsessed ™ with the idea of Martin dealing with the physical and emotional aftermath of leaving the Lonely)

Chapters 1-6 are up on ao3 under the same username!

(The EYE speaks in glitched text.  Jon’s thoughts are italicized.)

WARNINGS: panic, illness, hospitals, medical talk

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

This is a disaster.

Jon paces back and forth across the main floor, alternating between determinedly walking toward the front door and half-jogging back toward the stairs, panic driving his movements.

This is too much this is too much

He stops now, heart pounding, gripping his hair in both hands.  Confusion floods all his senses, and he finds himself fighting tooth and nail just to put his thoughts in order.

I don’t know what to do I don’t know I don’t know

In the back of his mind, he knows it’s because he’s hungry.  He knows it by the way he’s shaking, by the nausea threatening to choke him at any moment, by the simple fact that he can’t fucking think.  Knees wobbling, he reaches out for the kitchen chair and props himself against it, forcing himself to take a few deep, steadying breaths.  It barely helps, but it will have to do.

Okay.

Okay okay.

Think.

What are our options?

His mind travels back upstairs, where Martin is currently running a 39.9-degree fever, fully delirious and hallucinating.  All morning, he had called out for Tim, for Sasha, for his mum—everyone who could never come to comfort him—with lungs churning endless congestion.

Jon knows he needs to get help, and fast.

But from where?  Where can I take him?

There’s no phone service out here, and he doesn’t want to risk going all the way to the phone booth and leaving Martin behind.  Frustrated, he resumes his rapid pacing.

Is there anywhere I can take him in the village?

Could I even get him in the car?

He is struck, suddenly, with an idea.

He calls upon the Eye to show him the village, to show him someone, anyone that could help—

The image of a clinic is pulled forth from his mind, and he Knows exactly how to get there.

Turning on his heel, he dashes up the stairs two at a time.

“Come on, Martin I—oof!”

Jon lists to the side as soon as he manages to half-lift Martin from the bed, overbalancing and nearly dragging them both to the floor.  He barely manages to catch himself on the night table, one shaking arm propping them both up.

“Listen—Martin—can you hear me?” he pants.

Martin’s face remains blank, impossibly flushed.  Jon shakes him roughly.

“Listen, Martin, please.  I need you to help me.  I can’t carry you on my own.”

Martin blinks sluggishly, and for a moment Jon is convinced he will be forced to either abandon this plan or compel him.  But at last, something seems to break through, and Martin looks down at his own feet before shifting his weight away from Jon and onto his own legs.

“Good good good, Martin, good.  Thank you, darling.”

As relieved as Jon is, Martin still looks shaky, and he knows they’ll have to move as quickly as possible if they’re going to make it to the car.

“Alright, love.  One foot in front of the other then.  That’s it.  You’re doing so well, I’ve got you…”

For a Wednesday morning in a small village, the cramped waiting room of the clinic is quite crowded.  Martin sits next to him on what must be the most uncomfortable chairs in existence, fiddling anxiously with his paper mask.  The triage nurse had taken one look at him and ordered him to leave it on, in case he has the flu.

Around them sit many residents of the village, a few of whom Jon recognizes from the shop.  The woman with the two young children who had stood next to him in the queue now sits at the opposite corner of the room, trying not to stare at the audibly crackling breaths coming from Jon’s left.

Abruptly, Martin leans forward, resting his hands on his knees, his breaths becoming increasingly rapid and shallow.  Jon’s brow knits with concern.

T̲ͧr̻͕ͅi͙̥̲̍̌p͔̲͍̀̚o̠͙͑ͥ̽d̙̯ͯ̄ͣȋ̠̗̋̓n̩͇͒͛ġ̤:̑

T̋ẖē ̽͋ṵ͐s͖̗ḙ̬ͣ ̓͊͑o̞̿̌f̪ͭ̾̇ ̞̍͆̑t͉͉͇͊h̿̍̂͂r̮̮ͤ̾ͨê̦̹̇̚e̘̤ͦ͗͌ ̬ͩ̍̾ͪ̚p͙̖̑ͭͩ̆ó̺̝̬͒̈i͓̤͓͇͊̈n̫ͤ̃̒͐ͩṭ̜̭̥̅̒͋s̬̥̣ͩ͐̓̒ ̮͍͙̤ͭ̓̌ō̝̼̉̔͛̿f̹̙̺ͭ̆ͮ̾̀ ̞͈͍̽͑ͩ͗̍s̪̟̖̤͋̂ͩͅú̟̳͇̰ͧͦ̽p̫̘͔̎̒͊̆͒p̤̣̳̋̍̔̌̔o̖̲͗͒͛͑̿̑͐r͕̺̪̺͚̅͆̾̇t̯̠͌̿͐͋̒ͨͅ,̮͓̞͚̍̎ͫ̈́̚ ̫̰̹̘ͣ̑̅̔̾ö̙͎̭ͮ̂͐ͪ͌f̰̽͗ͤͥ̔͂͌̈́t̺̦̹̀̋͑ͬ̾̀e̠̩̳ͬͤ́̊ͥͫn̘͔̝̳̭̰ͤ̐̎̑ ̫͉͓͒ͨ͋͌̔̉̚i͖̗̘̪̬͗̿̃̌ͮn̫̰͆͆̄͊̉͋̾̐d͚͔̜͉̞̺͌ͭͤ͊i͙̦̜ͭͭͮͦͧͪ̏c̘̖̝̥̩͖̹͊̈́̈a͚͔̩͑ͪ́ͪ̅͌̏t̜̦͈̓̾̾͐̏͒̂i̫̦̲͗̓͆ͮ͋̒̀n̗̮̗͕̅͂ͨ̒͐̌g͉͕̥͎̪ͦ͗͒ͯͥ ̳̟̠͙̣̓̎̅ͅt͕̘̖ͯ̋̽ͦ̌ͅh͍̺̻̭̏ͥ͂ͬ̂ë̝̠͕̥͍́̐̒ͩ ̤̟͔̦͍̩ͧͯ̋p͎͔͈̮͛̓̔̽͆ȁ̟̻͉ͭͤ̾̓̿t̥͈̏͂̊̃͑ͨ͆ị̹̭̫ͮͨ͐̉͆ẽ̜̇̎͂̈͂͌n͖̱̭ͯͬ͋̀̈t̗͙̗̬͑͒ͥ͂ ͇͈͒͑ͥ͌̎͐i̲̩̲ͯ́ͨ̆̏s̰͓͇̭͉ͪ͑̌ ͖̯̜̦͑ͮ̆i̺̇̿̊ͥ̋ͯn̟̟̒ͬ̀̑̈ ̬͍͔͓̜̈́͒r̖̔̑̉͋ͅe͚̭̪͒̽̂s̯̥̅̓͑̒p̗̳̥̤͛̇i̼̲̿͗̽r̺̋͂ͨ̆a̟̝͚̰͑t̜ͤ̒̔̌ọ́��ͣr͍̻̜̜ÿ͙́̌ͭ ̪̔ͬ͗d̗͎ͥi̟ͤ͒s̪̎̒t̖̝r͚̾é̟s̰s̲.̲

Shit.

“Martin?  I-I’m going to get help.”

Jon strides quickly over to the triage desk, where the nurse looks up at him with a patient smile.

“Can I help you, sir?”

Jon is desperate.

“Please, I-I know you’re busy, I understand, but—he’s having trouble breathing, and I-I really think he needs help n̓ͦͭͨo̦̝̱̳͋̽w̪̞͔ͬ͌.̼”

He hadn’t meant to do it.  Truly he hadn’t, but regardless the nurse is compelled to stand and follow him to where Martin sits.  Jon tells himself every lie under the sun, anything to wash the awful taste of it from his mouth.

I needed to do it.

It’s fine.

I had to.

I had to.

Upon seeing Martin’s posture, her expression changes immediately.  She kneels in front of him, resting a hand on his knee and trying to catch his eye.

“Mr. Blackwood?  Can you hear me?”

Martin nods, still gasping for air.  The other occupants of the waiting room are staring now, faces painted with expressions of concern.

“Can you walk back to this room with me?  The one with the open door?”  She points behind her at the first room down the narrow hallway.

Martin looks up briefly at this, considering for a moment before resuming his posture.  Jon nearly bites through his lip with worry when he shakes his head.

“Alright, that’s alright.  I’ll be back with a chair.”

Jon stands in the corner of the room, watching, much the same as when he walks in others’ dreams.  This does feel a bit dream-like, come to think of it.  Strangers in scrubs and white coats surround Martin where he sits on the bed, still leaning forward in that awful pose, desperate to draw in more air.  Distantly, Jon realizes the sounds around him have faded, the people moving in silent blurs.  His vision tunnels in on the monitor, reading out Martin’s vital signs in colored text.

Heart rate: T̘́ͬ̉ͅO̯̰͈̭̤ͥͨ͗Ŏ̺͈̖̹̓̓̈́ͫ͑̚ ͈̃ͣͮͩͩ͒ͩ͗͛͗̇H̘̰̫̓ͮͪ̂̌̆̏͛I̖̪͙̎́ͣ̈͛ͬG͓͉ͤ̔ͅH̟

Blood pressure: T̘́ͬ̉ͅO̯̰͈̭̤ͥͨ͗Ŏ̺͈̖̹̓̓̈́ͫ͑̚ ͈̃ͣͮͩͩ͒ͩ͗͛͗̇H̘̰̫̓ͮͪ̂̌̆̏͛I̖̪͙̎́ͣ̈͛ͬG͓͉ͤ̔ͅH̟

Oxygen saturation: T̜̖̱͗ͭȎ̖̬̥̉ͣ̎ͦO̼͇͎͈̊̑ͬ̔̀͆ ̪̼̪͉͇̀̓ͬ͛̎L̝͔̺̟ͦ̊̂ͅO͕ͦ̉̏̐W͈

Respiration rate: T̘́ͬ̉ͅO̯̰͈̭̤ͥͨ͗Ŏ̺͈̖̹̓̓̈́ͫ͑̚ ͈̃ͣͮͩͩ͒ͩ͗͛͗̇H̘̰̫̓ͮͪ̂̌̆̏͛I̖̪͙̎́ͣ̈͛ͬG͓͉ͤ̔ͅH̟

Temperature: B̦̗U̅̓̊̓R̘̲͓͊ͫͮN͕̝̣͇̗̈ͫ̒I̳̲͎͉͛̉̏̐͆N͚͓̫̳͇ͧ͐̉̂̋ͮG̘̳̲̲͊ͦ̀͒̊͌͑̚ ̱̮͖̯̺̣̓̂ͪͩ̅́ͅB̻͚͉̙͓̣ͩ̓̃͒ͫ͂ͣU̘̰̣̘͔̙̦ͬ̄ͦ̐̍̒̒R̗͍̞͙̯͖̻̰̔̈́͗̆ͪ̈N̯͚̙̪͔̦͖͔̅͋͂ͭ͒ͅḮ̠͕̮̜̻̤̮̰̈́ͪ͐͆̓N̤͙̘͗ͤ̑̏̊̈̇̅̓ͦ̓G͉͇̗̦̠͇̠͙ͪ̈̿̏̃ ̰̘̤͓̮ͣͭ͐̿̈́ͫ̓B̞̦͎̹̖̒̔̇ͮͤ͑U̮̰̗̹̯̯͌͆͑Ṟ͎ͩ͌́͒ͤ̓N̦̗̩̫͆ͬI̫̘̋ͮ̐N͇ͣ̊G͇

Someone is trying to speak to him.

“…alright?  Sir?”

She has her hands on his upper arms, trying to draw his gaze.  Jon feels as though he’s swimming upwards through molasses as he tries to answer.

“M’fine, jus…”

“Why don’t you sit down?  Here, just here—”

Before he can process what has happened, Jon finds himself sitting in a chair undoubtedly meant for family.  Most of the strangers have left now, leaving Martin clear in his view.  Thankfully, he’s no longer braced forward, instead leaning back against a mountain of pillows, an oxygen mask fitted tightly over his nose and mouth.  Jon looks back up at the numbers on the monitor anxiously.

Oxygen saturation: 98%

Breathing a sigh of relief, he leans back in the chair and closes his eyes.

You’ll be the death of me.

A muffled sound of distress grabs his attention after a moment.  Eyes snapping open, he brings his gaze back to Martin, and his heart sinks.

Martin’s hands clutch at the sheets covering him as hot tears spill over his cheeks, their natural path impeded by the plastic mask.  His face is anguished and flushed, and Jon can sense the heat rolling off him from where he sits.  Alarmed and upset, Jon moves his chair closer to Martin’s left side, prying his hand from the sheets and gripping it tightly in both of his own.

“Martin, it’s me.  It’s Jon.  You’re alright, darling, you’re safe, I promise,” Jon soothes, lifting a hand to wipe the tears from his cheeks.

4̩̥̫͋0̹̱͓̻ͥ̐.̦͖̗̔͑̈1̼̳̒͐.̓

Christ.

Martin opens his eyes halfway, just enough to stare down to where Jon still holds his left hand.  He’s desperately trying to slow his breathing, even with the crackling shallowness his lungs offer him.

“Are you in pain?”  Jon questions lowly.

He lifts his right hand weakly, rocking it back and forth, as if to say “sort of.”

Jon exhales sharply, worrying at his lower lip for a moment.

“Are you frightened?”

At this, Martin nods slowly, sobs beginning anew.

Oh, dear.

Jon shifts closer to Martin’s side, leaning over to plant a soft kiss on his sweltering forehead.  Whispered words of comfort flow from him, carding his fingers through damp curls as he soothes Martin’s fever-soaked cries.

Nearly thirty minutes later, there’s a sharp knock at the door.

“Martin Blackwood?”

The man poking his head through the door reminds Jon immediately of Tim, with his upbeat energy and well-groomed beard.  The similarity is only confirmed when he steps through, revealing a pair of designer shoes only a fashion enthusiast could love.

At his entrance, Martin’s eyes fly wide open, and he struggles to sit up at attention.  Brows furrowing, Jon gently pushes his shoulder back onto the pillows.  The doctor begins speaking then, his charismatic voice ringing through the small room.

“I’m Aaron, and I’ll be your doctor today.  Glad to see you’ve got your oxygen mask on, there.  Quickly, before we begin—would you mind confirming, am I correct in using he/him pronouns for you?”

Martin’s eyebrows shoot up in shock for a moment at this, before his expression melts, and he nods.  Jon is half-certain he can see a small smile forming under the fogged-up oxygen mask, and squeezes his hand in encouragement.

“Excellent!  And who might you be?” he booms, extending a hand toward Jon with a kind smile.

“Err…” Jon fumbles to release his hand from Martin’s momentarily, wiping it quickly on his pant leg before grasping Aaron’s.

“Jonathan.  Jon.  Err, I’m Martin’s…” he trails off, glancing over at Martin as if for confirmation. “Boyfriend.”

The word sounds so strange on his lips that he can’t help the way his tone curls up at the ends.

“Pleased to meet you, Jon.  Now, Mr. Blackwood, I understand you’ve been having some difficulty breathing.  I’d like to take a listen, if you don’t mind,” he says, pulling his stethoscope from where it hangs around his neck.

Martin nods at this, and the doctor places the bell of the stethoscope over his lower ribs.

“Deep breath, if you can.”

Martin obliges, to the best of his ability.  Moving the bell to the other side, he repeats the request, before asking him to lean forward and listen at his back.  Martin’s shoulders shake with effort now, and Jon winces, knowing he’s trying his best to please, even if it hurts.

On the fourth repeat, Martin can no longer refrain, bursting into a fit of deep, gurgling hacks and lifting the mask from his face.

“Ooh, sorry about that,” the Aaron murmurs with knitted brows, gripping Martin’s shoulder and pulling him forward.

Opposite him, Jon mirrors the movement, pulling at his other shoulder while rubbing slow circles on his back.  For half a minute the fit continues, before mercifully allowing Martin a moment to gasp for air.  His lungs still crackle wetly as he does.

“Dear oh dear.  That doesn’t sound pleasant at all,” remarks Aaron, still cheery.

Martin does his best to reward his cheeriness with a smile, leaning back against the pillows again as Aaron repositions the oxygen mask on his face.

Aaron continues, placing his hands on his hips.

“Well, first thing’s first.  I highly suspect you’ve got pneumonia, which I’m sure is no shock to you.  We’re going to need a chest x-ray just to make sure.  That okay with you?”

Martin nods.

“Excellent!  I’ll send them right in for that, and I’ll be back as quick as I can to talk about the results.  Sound good?”

Another weak smile visible beneath the mask, Martin lifts his right hand to give a thumbs up.

“Righto!” Aaron replies with a wide grin before stepping out the door, closing it behind him.

Martin’s hand drops back to his side at once.

Leaning his elbow on the side of the bed, Jon offers Martin a cheerful smile.

“Well, he was very nice.  I’m quite pleasantly surprised.”

Martin does not seem to hear him, instead staring listlessly at the door, his energy utterly spent.  Jon’s smile fades as quickly as it came, and he takes Martin’s hand in both of his, rubbing his thumbs gently over his knuckles.

A few moments pass before Martin’s chest begins to convulse alarmingly.

“Shit.  Here, here, lean forward, lean forward—”

Jon pulls him up immediately, head lolling toward his chest, and pounds the heel of his hand into Martin’s lower ribs.

The coughs that result are that of a drowning man, impossibly deep and choking and exhausted.  Jon’s eyes sting as worry burrows into his heart, his chest aching as several minutes go by without respite.  He’s come to realize that he is helpless—all he can do is rub at Martin’s back and pray to whatever benevolent being might be listening.

At long last, the fit subsides, and Martin is mercifully able to take a deeper, stabilizing breaths.  Glancing up at the monitor, Jon is pleased to see his oxygen saturation steadily climbing as he breathes through the mask.

“That’s it, darling.  You’re alright.”

His eyes begin to droop soon after, and Jon guides him gently back to his propped-up position, brushing the fringe from his face and cupping his scorching cheek.  Astonishingly, Martin finds the strength to reward him with a smile and a weak thumbs-up.

Joy floods Jon’s heart, pulling both laughter and relieved tears from him.

You idiot.  I love you.

Jon strokes Martin’s arm gently as he drifts off, watching his chest rise and fall with deepening sleep.