#seriously though go check them out. joe is really does just say words and it's fantastic

[correct-hermitcraft-quotes]

Joe: It's got elements of classical Greek architecture. As well as elements of not being on the ground, which are distinctly more modern.

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 24: OH...HI

after months and too much longing, you finally meet corpse in person.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 3.8k

author’s note: we did it joe.

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous. ҉   next.

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You woke up. That’s a lie, you didn’t sleep. Too much to plan, too much can go wrong and you’re...Not nervous, no, that’s not quite accurate. Excited. Yes, excited, so excited that two Redbulls and three coffees (so far!) make you jitter around the apartment like a butterfly that can’t find a flower bed to rest on. 

Rae has almost had enough of your...random spurts of energy. So what if you ran a few laps, climbed a few tables, sang karaoke a bit too loud and yet another noise complaint had been issued? It arrived exactly an hour after your concert via your displeased landlord. Rae was, of course, the one to apologize because you were too busy trying on miniskirts. After that ordeal was taken care of, no sooner than Rae shut the front door with an exhausted sigh, you emerged from your room clad in your prettiest outfit. You present it to her with a bright smile and flourish. 

She is not impressed.

“Will you quit it?” She questions, arms crossed over her chest. Your grin does not damper -- you’re used to such harsh treatment, having accepted her backhanded way of showing love long ago. Instead, you flick your wrists, showing off an ungodly amount of rings. You’re not certain of the exact number because you can’t count, “Y/n.” Her voice gains an edge, but you persist. Show off your shoes that have cute lil’ charms that jingle jangle not unlike the spurs on a hot cowgirl’s boots, “Y/n.” Her eyes narrow in displeasure, her stern tone making you falter in your dramatic stride down the imaginary catwalk, “Just stop.”

Okay! So maybe you’re not as used to her coldness as you thought you were. Your expression sours, and you quit the act, even if a part of you - one you barely fight off, goodness, you almost perish in that battle - wants to continue but even more annoying. As if you could somehow block her rationality with manic energy. 

“What?” You ask, trying to keep the mood lighthearted despite her squared shoulders and tight frown, “I’m just having a bit of fun!” You say with a joyous little laugh, reaching for a glass of much needed water.

“No, you’re panicking.” Her words make the glass still, hoovering by your painted lips, but it’s short lived. You take a greedy gulp and it tastes fresh with a pinch of lipstick, “Look, I get it...” She shakes her head softly, “You’re meeting the guy you like for the first time, you jumped the gun straight to dating and now you’re...Anxious. It’s normal, you know.”

“But I’m not anxious.” You persist, and you really do mean it. You don’t like how she looks at you as if you’re the one that’s misunderstanding your own feelings. You set the glass down with a soft clink, heaving your own sigh, “I’m not, I’m really happy actually.” You explain softly, “It’s just...my way of dealing with it. I’m more... Worried about Corpse, to be honest.” You add, a tad quieter, “But, like, it’s all good!” You exclaim, strolling up to her and landing your hands on her shoulders, “I prepared.”

And it’s true! You had spent the night scouring the depths of the internet. Read every WikiHow article on how to deal with someone with extreme anxiety, how to not make things painfully awkward, and how to talk to boys (just in case. The last time you stumbled upon that particular article was way back in middle school when you had a crush on that one guy you saw in your school’s cafeteria every now and then. Naturally, that led you down the rabbit hole, and according to WikiHow’s How To Tell If A Boy Likes You guidebook, you found out that he was absolutely enamored with you because he glanced in your direction, like, two times. Safe to say that love story went nowhere. The point still stands). 

So you forward all of this information to Rae, nestled in her bed whilst she lazily folds her clothes; clarify that you know that nothing much can happen, and that this whole situation is delicate, and that you must tread carefully because you don’t want to overwhelm him. She pauses her actions, glancing behind her to watch you staring idly at the ceiling, so peaceful, so thoughtful. And it’s not the eerie calmness you had displayed during your murderous spree in the last Among Us game, no, it’s just...quiet understanding. 

“I’m actually impressed.” She says. You merely hum, counting the dust slowly descending in the cascading light, “You’re not as clueless as I thought.” Your lips quirk into a shy smile at the compliment- “Or as tactless.” - and turn downward just as quick.

“That implies that I’m always tactless.”

“You are.” She states and you sit up, a soft frown pinching your brows, “Not like, in a terrible way. You just...don’t think about your actions. Or the repercussions. You just know that you can get away with everything.”

“And I can!”

“That doesn’t actually mean you should do something just because you can. You know I’ll always support you. Literally everyone will always support you. But I’m not gonna coddle you. You’re just...a lot. Online and especially in person. But the fact that you’re actually taking this seriously and taking his feelings into consideration is...well, the bare minimum, but still, good job.”

...Much to think about. You don’t like thinking, it makes your head hurt. Though, that could just be the lack of sleep. You cross your legs and plop your head in your hand, tired eyes blinking owlishly, “Do you...think I should change what I’m wearing?”

Prompted by your question, she gives you a careful once over, “I mean, it’s signature you.”

“Signature me is a hoodie and some sweatpants.”

She smiles, “Then go change. Your outfit is a bit distracting for just...Hanging out indoors, no? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind either way, though.”

“I just...” You bite the inside of your cheek, mulling your words over. Truly, the last time you were so attentive was when you went Psycho Mode in Among Us, which, to be fair, wasn’t that long ago. Perhaps there wasn’t a chance to let your mind dull - it’s almost as sharp as your butterfly knife, “I figured that if, like,” You vaguely motion with your hands, “if I be, like, all over the place, and wearing something cute, he’d be, like, distracted? And less anxious? No...awkward silence?”

“First meetings are always awkward, it’s natural.” She chimes, “I mean, if you’re so nervous-”

“I’m not nervous!”

“-then just don’t overthink it. I know it’s easier said than done, but you’re you, and Corpse is Corpse, and he likes you for who you are, and even if it is a bit awkward, I’m sure it’ll, like, blow over in a second. It really doesn’t matter how you look, Y/n.” She grins, “Plus, it’s not like you’re greeting him in your underwear or something.”

You will not admit that that was your plan B, not when you just landed in her good graces. You nod, “...I’ll go change.” 

And so you do. Pick out your cutest hoodie and some sweatpants. Put away your jingle jangle shoes with a broken heart, instead of them donning your fluffiest socks; slip off some rings because they keep falling off of your fingers. It’s almost like all of those transformation scenes in rom-coms that are still popular for some reason, except you’re hot before and after, so there’s really no transformation at all. 

Now you wait. Just wait, all other activities are excluded from this. Rae comes back to find you sitting on the edge of your bed, back straight, hands neatly folded on your lap. She compares you to a Sim’s character and you allow her. After mercilessly mocking you and snapping a few pictures - for blackmail, you assume - she helpfully informs that she is leaving because she doesn’t want to get in the way, but your psychic abilities which you acquired just now tell you that she simply doesn’t want to witness this train wreck. Not that it’ll be a train wreck, it would be if you were nervous, but you aren’t. 

You just aren’t. You fidget with the rings adoring your hand; toy with the hem of your hoodie; bounce your leg up and down. It’s just caffeine, okay?! Fuck this, Twitter time.

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[ADDING A MUSICAL INTERMISSION, LISTEN TO THIS IF YOU WANT (I WROTE THIS CHAPTER WITH IT IN MIND)]

The waiting commences, only now it somehow feels more intense. The sun is setting, and you really want to be one of those cute girls that fill their camera roll with pictures of the sunset and the roseate sky, but your hands are trembling and holding up your phone feels like too much of a hassle. You’d rather just sit there, alone in the apartment, in the pin-drop silence, extremely uncomfy and tense, as if waiting for the end of the world. 

A notification sounds off and your life flashes before your eyes. Hastily, you check it, a sticky mixture of delight and something else, something unpleasant constricting, making your stomach churn. He’s here. Holy shit, it’s happening. You order your anime plushies to stop fucking panicking, they’re like, totally embarrassing you at the moment! You wonder if they have their own little group chat, but instead of Totally Spies it’s called Total Embarrassment. Yikes, okay, that was harsh. After a good scolding, and a heartfelt apology for getting so heated, you smooth down the non-existent wrinkles on your modest outfit, and quickly waddle over to the electronic apartment thingie something something... you unlock the main door, okay!? This is for some reason feeling very not cash money, so you break out in a little dance number.

The doorbell does not sing that shrill, unpleasant tune; rather, there’s a soft knock on the apartment’s door, and you pause your shuffling, your renegade, and perk up at the imposing future hidden behind a slab of wood. Your heart beats a melody all on it’s own, and it’s loud, uncoordinated, like a musician that’s still familiarizing themselves with their instrument. And there’s that knock again, as uncertain as you’re feeling, and your clammy fingers latch onto the lock and turn it and now there is no more hiding - such a possibility is no longer an option; no more sporadic dances or sitting in disheartening silence and letting your thoughts weight you down.

You’re not quite sure what you were thinking about before you saw him in the threshold, head tilted slightly, fluffy dark hair obscuring the bags under his eyes, hunched, one ringed hand clutching onto the strap of his duffel bag, the other frozen mid-air, ready to knock one more time lest you didn’t hear him the first two. No, truly, you can’t, for the life of you, remember what all the fuss was about. 

“...Oh.” It’s a soft sound, so quiet, but not surprised, rather...relieved. Faint shimmers of a smile reach you, hidden behind a black face mask - the panini chic! You must stan a respectful king - but there’s something about the way he looks at you that makes you question it’s sincerity. He fails to return your gaze, rather choosing to stare somewhere over your shoulder. His eyes seem unfocused. Apprehensive. A wild thought occurs to you that he expected you to trick him somehow, and wild thoughts invade the land of your mind often, but never in such a way. You clutch the handle just a bit tighter.

His hand retreats to his side, up to his mask and you think he’s about to unhook it but he stills, and there’s panic there, as if he had been moving unconsciously, as if he hadn’t realized what he’s doing. He plays it off by idly scratching his cheek, muttering an equally quiet, “Hi.” to fill the silence.

Finally, your WikiHow knowledge can come in handy, along with your common sense, “Hey, pretty boy.” You mutter, pulling away from the door, “Make yourself at home!” You slide to the kitchen, your socks acting not unlike ice-skates cutting through the Arctic frost covered ground. You hope that with you occupied and not watching him as closely he’ll feel slightly more at ease. 

You’d like to hug him. Kiss him, definitely. But if he’s so uncomfortable that he can’t bring himself to shed his mask in your presence, then there’s really nothing you can do. 

You hear the door shut and lock behind you as you pull out two glasses from the cupboard, humming a song you can’t quite recall the name of. You ask him if he’d like something to drink - it was a short flight, yet a flight still, and planes always make you thirsty, and there you go talking his ear off. You end abruptly, but smoothly, like a true diplomat; if he notices, you have no way of knowing - he doesn’t provide even a hint. He’s hard to read, and literature was never your best subject. But you’re trying.

He sets his duffel bag down on a nearby chair, “I, uhhh,” His voice is raspy and low, another indication of a pathetic lack of sleep, “I...got you something, uhh, I dunno-dunno if I should...give it now, or?” He sends you a questioning glance, but it doesn’t linger. Your offer of drinks is momentarily forgotten, though you hardly mind. 

You grin, “Sure! I love gifts, gimmie gimmie.” You make grabby hands, and he snorts, and it would’ve sounded endearing if he didn’t sound so fucking tired. He unzips the bag, and you pad your way to him, mindful of personal space (something you, in most social situations, chose to pretend does not exist). You note his hands quivering lightly, just like yours had in the agonizing wait, but he hides it well. You wish you could hold them. You’re afraid to try.

He pulls out a black hoodie and you recognize the custom art on it instantly - it’s his merch. He presents it in awkward flourish, murmuring a “Tadaaaa” under his breath; your heart skips a pleasant beat, and you have to bite down on your lower lip lest you smile appears too big. The fabric is soft under your fingers, and you accept his gift with a dramatic bow, and he turns his head away with another little laugh. You’re chipping away at the ice around him; it’s a slow process, but it’s worth the effort.

Truly, your own hoodie is shabby in comparison - icky, how could you have ever worn such a thing in the first place?! You’ll have to do extensive research in fashion magazines and Printerest so such a slip-up may never happen again. You discard it hastily and put his on instead; it smells like washing detergent with hints of cologne, one you instantly pin point belonging to him, “It’s, uhhh, it’s mine? I hope you, uhh, I didn’t have any spare ones, so-I hope you don’t...mind.”

He’s finally looking at you, but he’s still tense, still hesitant, and you shake your head softly, “No,” You admit, “I like it even more now.” You pull on the hood, toy with the strings and yank them quickly; your face is concealed, save for your nose, “Comfy.” Your commentary is unmatched, best of it’s kind - eloquent and effortless, much like yourself.

Another small laugh reaches your ears, and it sounds a bit livelier than the others had been. Success!

“Stop that.” He says gently, and you see moving shadows; his hands loosen the strings and your face is revealed to him once again. He’s close now, and he doesn’t move away; his hands come to rest on your shoulders, warm even through layers of fabric, “I came all this way to see you, don’t hide your face from me.” 

Your eyes narrow playfully, your finger rapidly tapping away on his clothed cheek, “What’s all this then? Hm? Hm?” Instead of swatting your hand away, which you figured he’d do, he complies and finally tugs that fucking mask off. Your breath catches in the back of your throat and you halt your ministrations - truly, seeing him smiling on screen is nothing compared to him smiling in person. You can’t quite contain yourself any longer - your excitement might burst out in another dance number otherwise - as you throw your arms over his shoulders and pull him flush against you. He’s quick to return the embrace. Maybe it was all the encouragement he needed.

“Wow,” He mumbles, only slightly offended, “so I finally show my face to you, in person, and you just-...you just look away?”

“I’m hugging you, dumbass.”

“...Touche.”

Things fall into place after that, like a dozen puzzle pieces fitting together. He won’t let you go - he doesn’t want to. You put on some music, something easy and indie and that doesn’t require too much effort to listen to, as the two of you contemplate what to eat. Cooking by yourselves was dismissed due to the unstable relationship between yourself and cooking utensils. The stove and you had had a falling out recently, but this feud had started long ago, back in pre-school, with only short intervals of friendship. He listened to your extensive explanation absolutely enraptured and only moderately confused. 

So you settled on ordering pizza from Domino’s. You have no trouble calling or receiving phone calls, because you have no trouble doing anything, and he admitted that he only really calls you because he gets too anxious to do more, so you’re tasked with ordering the food. You accept this mission with pride.

You stand tall, gazing out the window into the wild California domain: massive buildings and towering eucalyptus trees, bleeding skyline and the sun slowly getting swallowed up by the ocean. Corpse looms behind you, with his arms snaked around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder, looking at you through the corner of his eye. You wait patiently for the underpaid, overworked staff member to pick up, and once they do, you have the audacity to grin brightly and chirp, “Hi! I want pizza.”

Conversations flow smoothly, and you make hot chocolate - because you are hot and you crave chocolate - and he insists he wants one too, because you want one, and you don’t hesitate to overflow his cup with whipped cream and an ungodly amount of miniature marshmallows. A premature heart attack, just for him. Whoever said romance is dead has clearly never met you. When the doorbell chimes, you’re astounded that an hour flew by so quickly.

After the delicious meal, the movie night must commence. So what if you watched 10 Things I hate About You yesterday, you insist that you have already forgotten the plot. You lead him to your room and he tries not to stare, but can’t help himself. Pretty boy in a pretty girl’s room. His eyes linger on the massive posters of Chrollo on your walls, and you sense his displeasure rolling off of him in waves. 

“What?” You huff, fluffing the pillows, “You don’t like my husband?”

He jabs his finger into his chest, into the spot of his heart, “I’m your husband.”

“Side hoe, then-”

“-No.”

You didn’t lie when you said you love to cuddle, or that you’re clingy. It’s a good thing he’s just as clingy as you are, because when he lays down and you latch onto his side. He doesn’t complain, rather wraps his arm around pulls you close. His thumb draws lazy circles on your side; with your head resting on his chest, you feel each rhythmical rise and drop. 

The opening credits play on the projector, the room dark enough for your pile of plushies to look like a whole fucking human just standing in the corner. A ghost! Sucks for it, you’re not scared. You feel safe. Protected. So comfortable in Corpse’s hold that you’re honestly wondering how did you manage to be so long without him. To think all of this started when Sykkuno followed you on Twitter. What a lucky accident.

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice cuts through the bopping 90s soundtrack and Julia Stiles’ voice. He hums. You take it as a yes. Tilting your head upwards, you find his eyes again, a thorn of displeasure picking you as you note that that apprehension you had seen previously is still very much there, “...You really wouldn’t date me if I was a worm?”

His chest rumbles with a laugh and his lips split into a grin, “I would.” He presses your side for emphasis, “I really would.” He repeats, reassuringly. You, however, are not convinced.

“But I’d be a worm.”

“I know. We’d... roll around in the dirt together, or something.”

“But you’d be human.”

He frowns softly, “Why couldn’t I be a worm, too?”

“Those are the rules.”

“What kind of shitty fucking rules are those?”

“I dunno, it’s like the Thanos snap or something. I just turn into a worm. I’m the only one.”

“That’s fine.” He smiles, “I’d take you out on a fishing date or something.”

Shocked, offended, and heartbroken, you hit his chest and pointedly turn away with a pout, which he finds very funny for some reason, but you fail to see the humor anywhere except the movie. Despite the fact that he’d sacrifice you for a fish, you smile shyly and close your eyes. He did say you would take a nap together, and if he really thought you’d stay awake for movie night, well, then he’s just an idiot. You had decided you would fall asleep as soon as he was next to you. It’s a miracle you managed to stay awake for so long.

“...Sleeping already?” You don’t appreciate his teasing tone.

“’m not sleeping...” You murmur, “’m resting my eyes.”

“Sure.”

You’re not quite certain (of anything, really) how much time drifts by, but you’re nearly lost in unconsciousness, in the warm, nice feeling that comes along with him like a cloud. Perhaps he thinks you’re asleep, he has to, else he wouldn’t say anything at all, “You’re stuck with me now, you know.” It’s such a soft admission, riddled with the same notes of anxiety that always prevail in his speech; with the same hopeful sincerity he had been gazing at you the whole evening. 

Moving your lips is such a hassle, but you manage, “’m...stuck...” You mumble, “’m...stuck...what are you doing step-”

“No!” He laughs, and your lips quirk into a lazy smile, “No, no, no. Just no. Do you talk in your sleep?” You fake snore at that, loudly, “You’re like a little dragon.”

“...Fuck you.”

“Fine, a kitten, then.” That’s better. You feel something chapped, but soft, press onto your forehead, “Goodnight, Y/n.”

God, you’re so fucking happy. Does he know how happy you are? How happy he makes you? But you’re too tired for screaming and flailing around, too tired to even crack an eye open. You want him to know all the same, “...like you.” You whisper, but you don’t know if he hears you over the movie, “...I like you.”

His reply is instant, breathless, “I like you too.”

Good, you want to say, and maybe you do - can’t tell anymore. Sleep takes you too quickly.

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury--moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[justletmeplayminecraft]

so, after seeing the wonderful frozen xisuma art by @ambered-glazed-sheep i had an urge to write some comfort. so i did.

featuring: hermits looking after their admin, a very out of it x, lots of warmth, both physically and in friendships, the comfort after the hurt.

warnings: general being frozen. he's fine though! warmed by the love of his friends. even if he won't step into a snowy biome for a while after this.

"'Suma!" Xisuma can't gather the energy to open his eyes. The voice sounds far away, and he struggles to tell if it really is or not. A burning touch against his cheek breaks through the numbness that has long taken over his body. He twitches from it, muscles moving without his command. A rough noise leaves his throat. "He's freezing."

"I think that's a bit obvious!" That voice is high and distressed. Xisuma can't place why. He knows he recognises them but- His thoughts are distracted as he's moved. Powdered snow slips off his body, limp in the hands that hold him. "Come on, I've got a leather chest plate. Help me get him into it."

He barely manages a noise to protest being manhandled. There's gentle hushing in response as a force tugs at his arms. He can hardly tell which way is up anymore. Something is being pulled onto him and with some effort, he blinks his eyes open. He can't make sense of what he sees. It's just colours - blues as cold as the iciness inside him. None of the shapes come together in his head, no matter how hard he tries to focus. Exhausted, they fall shut again. His head rolls forward with them, quickly caught and laid back on something solid. He's sitting upright. Ah.

"C'mon, Xisuma." He's pretty sure that voice is talking to him. He's Xisuma, right? "Stay with us a bit longer." With a firm click, warmth blossoms in his chest. He sighs at the sensation. He didn't think his muscles could slack any further, but he slumps against the wall behind him all the same.

"I've got his helmet." Mm, his helmet. Something tugs through his hair, and he feels snow drop onto his nose. When did he take his helmet off? "Let's get him back to Hermitcraft." He makes a surprised noise when the wall behind him moves. There's something hooking under his arms, and then he's hauled upwards. Despite his best efforts, his feet only slide on the ground. He can't feel the surface underneath them. He's not sure if he should be fighting the grip or embracing it.

"Up you come, big guy." He attempts to open his eyes but gravity swings around him. Although he can't be sure, he thinks that squeaking noise came from his mouth. He squeezes his eyes shut to fight off the dizziness in his already clouded thoughts.

"Have we got everything?" The pressure on his body shuffles him, moving malleable limbs into position. Xisuma flexes his fingers into soft fabric. They ache with the movement, but he grips on tightly all the same.

"One derp of an admin successfully collected. We can come back for anything else." The sturdy chest he's leaning against rumbles with the words. Xisuma hums softly.

"Impulse, can you go ahead and make sure we have potions?" Xisuma allows his head to rest against the support holding him. Warmth is seeping back into his limbs at a snail's pace. He couldn't tell anyone where his feet are right now for the life of him.

"On it! I'll see you guys at spawn." His ears finally pick up on the crunch of snow. That must've been there before. He was recording something with it, wasn't he? Warmth presses on his head, ruffling his hair. He sinks down with a pleased sigh, mind feeling heavy.

"I'd say this is a mission success."

"Yes, and somebody is going to get a stern talking to." The warmth on his head leaves for a second when his nose is poked. Xisuma scrunches up his face. He has a vague notion that somebody might be him.

"Let's get him warm first-." The rest of the sentence trails off from Xisuma's hearing. His thoughts have only grown heavier, and he's too tired to fight that encouraging pull into sleep. He lets out a final sigh, curling into the warmth surrounding him. He's safe here. He can rest.

-

It takes some time for him to climb back to consciousness. He's cozy. There's a comfortable pressure shielding him from the world. When he listens, he can make out familiar voices talking without distinguishable words. Occasionally, there's someone holding him, and he can feel the words more than he can hear them. Xisuma is happy existing in this in-between. There's no pressure. No ever-present responsibility. And, his tired mind helpfully supplies, no cold. He'd begun to think he'd never feel warmth again out there.

His thoughts are more coherent now, at least. He can feel all the way down to his toes. His skin is covered in soft fabric, a comfortable cocoon. A fire crackles in the distance, the scent of food reaching his nose. Mushroom stew, he thinks. Rich and well-flavoured.

"Xisuma," a voice encourages, next to him, "I can see you twitching." Xisuma thinks his sigh is disappointed as he makes that final grab towards consciousness. He squints his eyes open into a warm glow. "There you are!" Xisuma hums in reply, trying to make out the person's silhouette.

"Cub?" The name sounds unsure to his own ears. Like his voice still isn't part of him. It didn't hurt as much as he expected. How many potions have they fed him?

"Yep. Welcome back, X." Xisuma lifts one of his arms, weaving it out of the blankets to rub his eyes. It still feels heavy, moving with an ache. Ugh, he hates the cold.

"Gettin' there." He frowns at his failed pronunciation. Nothing he can do about it now. Cub chuckles, ruffling through X's hair. Xisuma makes an annoyed noise, trying and very much failing to whack him away.

"Think you can manage some food?" Cub asks. Xisuma takes a deep sniff of the stew, his stomach twisting in previously forgotten hunger at the thought.

"Please." Cub smiles, leaving his side with a barely felt squeeze of the shoulder. These blankets are thick.

Xisuma uses the time to take stock of where he is, eyes adjusted to the light. It's the spawn hub he built. Across the central room, Cub has joined Joe and Impulse, working in front of a campfire he's pretty sure he didn't include. Underneath him is the soft surface of a bed. Something is warm inside the blanket, and he's fairly sure he wasn't wearing such fluffy clothes earlier. His armour is stacked against a chest next to the bed, helmet on the lid and within reach. He smiles.

"X!" He turns back as Impulse approaches, smile brighter than any of the lights in the room. "It's good to see you awake, man. Or coherent at least." Xisuma laughs a little self-deprecatingly.

"Ah, I didn't do anything too embarrassing whilst I was out, did I?" His memories of all that are a bit fuzzy. He remembers recording, and it was going well! He'd taken good notes and he was working through them efficiently. Then he remembers lying there in the snow, wondering if he'd ever move again (he won't linger on that memory.) Next thing he knows, he's being picked up.

"Well, unless you count clinging to Cub like a child?" Hm. The blush he can feel at the thought answers that one. Impulse takes in his expression and laughs, "Nah, you were fine! We won't tell anyone. Lips sealed."

Xisuma doesn't get the chance to reply as Cub and Joe join them, bowls of stew and a plate of sliced bread in hand. They set up a few chairs with a table between them. Xisuma has to shuffle his sore limbs forward to reach. He jumps in surprise when something rolls out of his blanket pile, hitting the floor with a thud. Impulse reaches down and scoops it into his hand. He unwraps the bundle, revealing the stone within.

"Magma rocks, wrapped up so they're not too hot," he explains at Xisuma's confused look. "Zed's idea, actually. Keeps him warm in that massive cave of his." Oh. That explains the extra heat source, then. Xisuma reaches out for a slice of bread, dipping it into the stew. He smiles as he watches it soak in, taking his time to enjoy this. It smells glorious, and it tastes just as good.

Once he's half way through his stew, he finally asks, "What happened? I'm still a little confused." The three share a look. Cub is the one who shrugs.

"You went to record a snapshot overview, right?"

Xisuma nods, "I did indeed. And the next thing I remember is being on the ground. And cold." Can't forget the cold. He kind of wishes he could.

"Well, Xisuma," Joe sits up straight as he speaks. His bowl is already empty. How did he manage that without Xisuma realising? "We noticed after a few days that our dear admin hadn't come back. So after a few messages with no response, we went to look for you. And what do we find but our admin curled up in the snow, looking like an icicle."

"Seriously, X," Impulse says it with a gentle sigh, "Why would you set your spawn in the snow?" Xisuma's mouth opens, but he ends up simply rubbing his neck. It does nothing to hide the blush creeping onto his face.

"Ah, goodness." He chuckles once his words return. "Not my smartest move, then."

"Well, you've had your moments." Cub's smile is as fond as it is teasing. Xisuma returns to dipping his last slice of bread in the stew, hopefully not embarrassing himself further.

"You know, you're kind of lucky, X," Joe adds, with a smile a little too smug for him, "Cleo wanted to come." X winces at the thought, swallowing his food down on instinct. He got off very lucky indeed. "We're still going to talk about this," Joe warns, "but I'll hold her wrath off for now." Xisuma hums, tugging the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

"We don't want anything to happen to you, Xisuma," Impulse tells him, ever so soft. "We had no idea something did. What if we hadn't checked?" It's not a comfortable thought.

"I'll think of something," X decides. "I see what you're saying."

"Well, technically you don't see it-" Cub rolls his eyes at Joe, taking the empty bowls to wash up. Only Xisuma hasn't finished.

"Joe, I'm trying to be serious, man!" Impulse protests. Xisuma hides his laugh behind a spoonful of stew. He continues eating, listening to the three go back and forth. Later, they'll work out a plan for future snapshots. Frequent check ins, a buddy maybe. But, for now. For now, he gets to spend time with what matters most. His friends.

[adhd-disaster-willie]

you’re the one that brings the sun; chapter 5/6

chapter 1, 2, 3, 4

warnings: swearing

word count: 2,757

notes: okay so this update took a while because I’ve been busy with school and writers block has been kicking my ass, but I think it’s worth it :)))

---

It was established in August that at least once a month, Alex will receive a phone call informing him to be at Julie’s house in ten minutes for a mandatory slumber party. It’s endearing sure, but he would like some sort of warning other than Luke calling him and saying that if he doesn’t show up as soon as possible, he’ll paint his drumsticks neon green. So that’s how Alex ends up sitting cross legged on Julie’s bed, putting Reggie’s hair into a bunch of tiny braids and watching The Princess Diaries for what’s probably the hundredth time. 

“Lilly is definitely a lesbian,” Flynn says through a mouthful of popcorn. 

Alex hums in agreement and Julie nods. “If only this movie weren’t made in 2001,” Julie says mournfully.

“Y’know I always thought that Joe was gay,” Alex admits. “Up until he dances with the queen.”

Reggie attempts to look up at Alex, earning an offended squeak from the latter. “Really?”

“Yes, now will you please stay still, I only have one more left.”

“Ok but there is no way Mia’s mom is straight!” Flynn says.

Julie seems to mull it over for a bit. “She does live in an old fire station. And artists are never straight.”

“Yea, like Willie!” Luke pipes up, sitting up from his position hanging halfway off the bed. “Willie’s not straight.”

“We should start a betting pool on how long it takes for Luke to bring up Willie,” Alex mumbles, his cheeks flushing pink. He ties off Reggie’s final braid and pats his head approvingly. “You look like a real princess.”

“Do I?” Reggie grins up at him with a bit of a twinkle in his eye and Alex chuckles. 

“No subject changing,” Luke protests. “How’s Willie doing?”

“Still a pining idiot,” Flynn answers with a cheeky smile. 

“I’m trying to watch the movie.” Alex shoves at Luke’s face and slides down off the bed to sit on the floor beside Reggie. 

“You’ve seen this movie a million times,” Luke points out. He leans down so his head is hanging off the edge of the bed and smirks mischievously at Alex, who is pointedly refusing to look at him. “Aleeeex,” Luke whines. “Don’t be a buzzkill.”

“Alice, please,” Flynn says. Alex shoots her a look seeping with betrayal and Flynn raises their hands defensively. “I haven’t seen Carrie in a few days!” They protest. “I need drama.”

“Drama?” Alex asks. “Or blackmail material?”

Flynn shrugs, which only serves to cement what Alex was thinking. “Yea, nope. It’s not like anything has even happened since-” He cuts himself off, realizing his mistake and preparing for the onslaught of questions. 

“Since!?” Luke cries. “Since what?!” He grabs Alex’s face roughly and looks at him with wide eyes. “Since what, Alex?”

“Nothing!” Alex squeaks, wrenching himself from Luke’s grasp. “Nothing! It was- let go of my fanny pack! Julie stop filming!!!” Alex swats at Luke’s hands and attempts to leap forward to grab Julie’s phone, but ultimately fails. 

“I’ll let go if you tell me,” Luke teases in a sing song voice, his grin only growing the more Alex fights. 

“Fine! If you just- sorry Reg the puppy-dog eyes only work on Luke and Bobby.” Reggie sighs in disappointment and Alex finally manages to get Luke off of him, huffing angrily and brushing nonexistent dust from his hoodie. “You’re a barbarian,” he mutters.

“Well?” 

Alex responds to Julie’s prompting with a long-suffering sigh. “You have to promise not to make fun of me,” he says. They don’t promise. The movie is long forgotten as Alex’s friends gather around him, looking all too fascinated by his latest embarrassment. “He well… don’t laugh, ok. He wore a crop top last week and I tripped on my own feet and scraped up my knees.”

Flynn raises an eyebrow. “Nuh uh, there’s more, spill.”

Alex groans, burying his face in his hands. “They got all worried and started putting bandaids on my knees and I almost fainted. Then- please don’t make me say this,” Alex pleads, looking to Julie as if she’s his last hope. She shakes her head. “When they finished lecturing me I just looked at him and said ‘nice shirt’ and ran off. Nice shirt??? What is wrong with me?”

“Wait a minute,” Julie says, gesturing for Alex to pause. “You just… ran off? Where?”

Alex doesn’t say anything. 

“I’ll paint your drumsticks if you don’t tell us,” Luke threatens. The difficulty is that Alex doesn’t doubt him one bit, and knows that Julie has a healthy supply of paint in a drawer just a few feet away from Luke. 

Alex mumbles something under his breath and Reggie pokes him. 

“Sorry what was that? Speak up.”

“Orange, I’ll paint them the ugliest shade of orange ever.”

“I went and hid in my closet!” Alex blurts. “For like an hour. I am never going to live that down.”

“That’s… incredibly ironic,” Julie laughs. 

“I’m telling that story at your wedding.”

“Reginald, don’t even think about it!” Alex kicks Reggie lightly and raises his hand to flip off the other three, who are all dying of laughter. “I hate all of you. I need new friends.”

“Good luck with that.” Flynn pats Alex’s head; he can practically hear their stupid smirk. 

“Fuck off.”

“No.”

---

Alex wakes up with his foot in Luke’s face, one arm thrown over Julie, his face in Reggie’s neck, and a very giggly Flynn perched on the end of the bed taking pictures. He sits up and murmurs sleepily, squinting in the oddly hazy room.

It’s gray and gloomy outside, quite fitting for mid-November, but far from Alex’s ideal weather. He’s always been partial to spring, when it’s not too hot and not too cold and not always cloudy and sad. 

Flynn hops off the bed and onto Julie’s chair, where she spins a couple times before turning her phone to show Alex. “This is gonna be my new lockscreen,” they giggle. Alex stares at the photo, baffled as to how his arm was bent like that. 

Breakfast is heaps of pancakes and fresh coffee (bless you, Ray) that for a moment, Alex considers just dumping over his head. Julie is curled around Luke for warmth throughout the whole morning and Flynn makes a point to gag at least once every 5 minutes. Alex knows she’s happy for them though, they finally got their act together a little over a week ago and at least this is better than the pining. Alex doesn’t say that though, because it will only get him a lecture on how he is not one to talk about pining. 

Alex almost thanks a god he doesn’t believe in anymore when the rain outside doesn’t seem to make any moves into thunderstorm territory. Willie hates thunderstorms. He stays cocooned in a blanket until noon, but eventually Tía Victoria shoos them all out, claiming that Julie will never finish her homework with them all glued to her. 

Alex is sopping wet when he finally arrives at his dorm, sadly no car can go right up to the entrance of the dorms. The first thing Alex notices when he walks in is the candles, and the second thing is the haphazardly thrown together fort in the middle of the room, which he narrowly avoids tripping over. “Willie?” He asks, lifting what he assumes to be the entrance and raising an eyebrow at Willie, who is grinning at him and shining a flashlight in his face.

“Ok, get that out of my eyes.” Alex clamps a hand over the light and Willie sticks his tongue out. “Did the power go out?” Alex asks, worry etching over his face. He can’t have all their food being ruined, with Alex living off his coffee shop job and Willie off of the occasional commission and odd check from his eccentric uncle. 

Willie shakes their head. “Nope.”

“So why the… candles?”

“It’s fun!” Willie pulls Alex into the fort, stumbling back and just barely evading them toppling over each other into a quite compromising position. Willie presses his back against the couch and pats the space next to him. “It’s like you’re a little kid again.”

“Luke used to love making forts,” Alex admits. “We would move all the furniture in his living room and make the absolute worst blanket forts you can imagine. Like seriously, it’s no wonder none of us went into architecture.”

“Really? I can totally see you as an architect”

“That’s…”

“I’m joking, hotdog,” Willie giggles, bumping their shoulder together. He has a tendency to raise his eyebrows when he’s amused; Alex finds it all too endearing. Accompanied with the way their eyes crinkle when the laugh and the soft candlelight leaking through the thin blankets and draping over his features, Alex thinks he’s having trouble breathing. 

“I was drawing you, y’know,” Willie says softly after a few minutes of silence.

“Hmm?”

“The day we went stargazing, I was drawing you. You’re- you’re a good muse.”

“Oh.” Alex’s stomach flutters. “I uh… thank you.” He gives Willie a hesitant smile before turning to focus on the flickering light. His breath feels weighted, like every exhale means something, but he can’t quite pinpoint what. There’s a light breeze whistling through the crack in the door and Alex closes his eyes for a moment, pretending that it’s wrapping around him and holding him close. Alex didn’t get much affection as a child; his parents had always been very stiff. Sure, they loved him, but they weren’t that good at showing it aside from a rough shoulder squeeze and tight smiles so full of expectations. When he came out, even the snippets of affection faded; no more of his mother fixing his hair or giving him a quick kiss on the forehead when he was sick. Two months after his coming out, they just… kicked him out. He came home to find his belongings shoved carelessly into a trash bag or two and that was that. Luke more than made up for the lack of physical affection, but Alex knows that there will always be something missing. 

Wide awake, Alex lets his head fall onto Willie’s shoulder. This time with care and attention, hesitancy. He hears Willie suck in a sharp breath but then the tension melts from their shoulders and fizzles into nothingness. For a moment, there is nothing but them and the pattering of rain against the windows. 

“Lets go for a drive.”

Alex looks up expecting Willie’s usual carefree and impish grin, but he’s taken aback by his wistful expression and something bursts in Alex’s chest. Something that may be instinct and may be just an overwhelming surge of emotion.

“Okay.” His voice is barely a whisper, a single wisp of smoke snaking from a blown out candle.

The air is damp and the rain is coming down hard; Alex reaches a cautious hand out beyond the awning and winces at the downpour. But Willie is wiggling his stupid eyebrows in the way that makes Alex’s face heat and he can’t say no as Willie drags him through the wet grass, shrieking with laughter and going slower than necessary to relish in the water pouring down from the sky in torrents. They’re soaked to the bone and breathless, overflowing with mirth, by the time they reach Alex’s car and clamber into the seats. Right after a brief argument about who’s driving of course. (“You will not be touching my steering wheel with your grimy paint hands, William.” “Says you.”) So Alex is driving. 

Willie has their hands pressed to the window, breath fogging up the glass and sending them into a fit of giggles every time. Alex switches on the radio and there’s a song playing that he recognizes but couldn’t sing along to; something soft and low, like lilting waves. Willie knows it though. And they’re singing. Oh. They’re singing. Alex almost has to pull the car to a stop and put his head in his hands because Willie never told him he could sing.

Willie’s voice is low and slightly raspy, but not in a bad way. Alex knows he’s heard this song before, but he’s 100% certain that this is his first time really hearing it. And it’s beautiful. Or maybe it’s just Willie. It’s probably just Willie. 

Alex brings the car to a slow stop in the parking lot of an odd gas station that always seems to be closed. He doesn’t turn it off though, because he would rather die than have Willie stop singing. He leans his head back and breathes, certain he’s inhaling Willie’s voice. Willie’s voice which is like sparks on his skin, like smoke that crowds his lungs and opens his soul for the very first time. He feels a sense of mourning when the song stops and something else comes on, something peppier and sickeningly sweet. He switches the radio off. 

“I didn’t know you could sing.” Alex isn’t even looking at them; he’s fiddling nervously with the strap of his fanny pack.

Willie smirks proudly. “You learn something new every day.”

“Yea.”

Willie traces a heart in the fog on the window and lets it sit there. Then he unbuckles his seat belt and pokes Alex’s shoulder. “Hey ‘Lex, come on.”

“No.” Alex shakes his head vigorously. “No. We’re already soaking wet and-”

“Hot dog.”

And damn it, the nickname may be so incredibly stupid but Alex has such a weird soft spot for it. He groans dramatically, making a point to wring out his hair, which is already mostly dry at this point. “You’re the worst. What if it starts thundering?” 

Willie shrugs. “I have my noise cancelling headphones. And you can-” they cut themself off. 

“I can what?”

“Nothing,” Willie squeaks. “Please. Please.”

So Alex climbs reluctantly from the car and stands in the parking lot looking far from amused. “You owe me.”

Willie laughs loudly, grabbing both of Alex’s hands and spinning him in an aimless circle, pulling them both into a dance  to music that’s only in his head. They twirl Alex around several times, and Alex is certain that he’s going to actually fall over and faint. Willie raises his face to the sky and squints, letting the rain soak him without care. Alex is in awe and how open and free Willie is, like nothing can ever go wrong and if it does they’ll always be flying. He doesn’t realized they’ve stopped dancing until Willie turns to him with a curious expression. Their eyes rake over his face and Alex realizes he’s staring. But for once, he doesn’t look away. And for the first time, he sees the corner of Willie’s mouth quirk up and their eyes flick to his lips and even linger there for a brief second. 

The rain doesn’t seem to have plans to stop anytime soon, and they’re both shivering and wet and Willie’s hair is dangling in front of his face. Alex reaches out and tucks it behind his ear, both of them holding a breath, waiting. It’s right there, right in front of him, and Alex is inches from just grasping it and clutching it to his chest. Willie takes a step forward so their faces are just inches from each other and Alex can feel their breath against his cheeks. He exhales shakily and raises one hand to cup Willie’s cheek, his touch feather light and afraid. Willie leans into the contact and grins upwards, their nose wrinkling fondly. He gives a silent nod and for the first time in years, Alex takes the plunge. 

Their first kiss is soft and slow and Willie tastes like rain and green tea. Alex smiles against their lips, a breathy laugh escaping his own. He’d think this is a dream, but no section of his imagination could conjure something even a fragment as magical as this. They’re in the middle of a parking lot, cold and wet, and yet Alex feels the warmest he ever has. Alex is hesitant to pull away, but he does, just barely. Their foreheads stay resting against each other, like breaking apart would break them. Then it comes crashing into him. Alex just kissed Willie. He just kissed Willie. And Willie kissed him back! Holy shit!

“Wowza.” Wowza? What the fuck Alex? 

Willie breaks into joyous laughter, throwing his head back and clutching Alex’s shoulders. And Alex laughs with him; he buries his face in the crook of Willie’s neck, his heart full to bursting. Wowza indeed.

---

notes: ...I did say I was thinking about a Willex rain kiss. I actually wrote like half of chapter 6 a while ago so I might be able to post it tomorrow. 

chapter 6

taglist:  @thatsanewflavor @spookiest-sapphic @dovesgrangers @julie-n-phantoms @frostknyte @thegaylink @nervousmiracletrash @crummycassidy @fairygclds @reallyintrospectivepeople @madsmax-37 @swamp-acad @kat-maybe-not @sunsetcurve123 @lookingthroughmirrors @queer-fandom-enby @over-under-through1 @willex-n-waffles @caliibee @stars-soph @herequeerandcantdrinkbeer @nickalicious @andwhenwepart @maizsnex @fanofthepod @heademptynothoughts @thunderstorm-symphony @julieandthephantomsandme @i-spit-on-fire

[xtrashmammalstefx]

March of the Black Queen (A Borhap Boys SMUT)

Part 18 of The Queen Repertoire Series

WARNINGS: PURE FILTH! LANGUAGE, SMUT, THE WHOLE SHEBANG!

Notes: I am so going to hell for this, but if you're reading this then so are you so...see you there!

I swear this life is a fucking curse!

I’ve always had my fair share of bad luck but this was ridiculous on so many levels. My so-called boyfriend of five months decided it would be just great to rail the shit out of our neighbor in our bed. Motherfucker never even told me he was GAY! I packed my things as he sobbed and said he was ‘sorry’ and explained how he’d been trapped in the closet his whole life (asshole parents). I told him I would forgive him in time, but for now, I needed a few days to get over the sting of it all. I left our apartment and drove to my best friend's place.

I’ve known Joe forever and he always knew what to do to get me out of a funk. He was basically a happy virus that infected every part of me.

He answered the door and his face when from having a sunshiny smile to a very irate look. “What the fuck did he do?”

“More like who the fuck did he do,” I said entering his apartment and explaining as best I could what had gone down without outing my ex (not exactly my sexuality to reveal after all). “Do I even need to ask if I can crash here until I find my own place?”

“You can stay here forever if you want,” he said embracing me. Joe gives the best hugs on the planet, and fuck anyone who disagrees with that. “The guestroom is all yours, go unpack while I call in the cavalry.”

“Seriously?” I arched an eyebrow at him.

“They care about you too, you know,” he said. I rolled my eyes and left to unpack. Sometime later multiple voices filled the air. The Borhap Cavalry had rolled in. I put on a happy face and made my way to the living room. I’d barely entered when a body slammed into me.

“I’LL FUCKING KILL HIM I SWEAR!” Rami said crushing me in his arms.

“Relax, my King,” I said. “It was an inevitable thing...nothing for you to lose your shit over.”

He stepped back still not convinced. “But—.”

“But nada, my King,” I said. “A pure-warmhearted Pharaoh such as yourself doesn’t belong in prison anyway.”

He sighed but nodded before taking his place on the sofa. On the coffee table were a couple of pizzas and beer to wash them down. I sighed.

“You guys are too good to me,” I said going in for a slice of (Y/F/P). We ate in silence for a while, each of the guys comforting me every now and then. Once we were done eating though...things got a lot louder.

“Truth or Dare, right now, who’s in?!” Joe asked, shouting slightly (he was a bit drunk so…). The guys shrugged.

“Eh, what the hell,” I said.

“Y/N/N TRUTH OR DARE?!” he asked excitedly.

“Um, I dunno, dare I guess,” I said. “You know to break the ice.”

Joe got an evil smirk on his face.

“What?” I asked.

“I dare you to play the Game,” I damn near choked on my beer.

“YOU FUCKER!” I snapped at him.

“What’s the Game?” Gwilym asked.

Joe laughed.

“It’s a stupid thing we did back in college,” I said turning to Joe. “A thing you promised never to speak of!”

“Oh, come on,” Joe said. “You gotta admit, this is exactly what you need right now.”

I groaned. “I hate you so much right now.”

He took out his phone. “Your time starts now.”

“What exactly does she have to do?” Ben asked.

“You’ll see,” Joe smirked earning a middle finger from me.

A couple minutes later Ben excused himself to use the little boy's room. I groaned under my breath. Too easy…

Round 1- Ben:

I excused myself a moment later, claiming to need something from my room. I stopped in front of the bathroom and knocked slightly. “Ben?”

“Yeah?” he answered through the door. I could hear his full stream going but...the opportunity was too perfect.

“Can I come in?” I asked.

“Um...just give me a moment,” I could hear him flush and then the sink turned on. I was nervous but did what I had to to be ready. I thought of him...of his strong hands and his length. I was suddenly very grateful that I had changed out of my cut-off shorts and into my pajama shorts. I shoved my hand in and began rubbing circles around myself. I let out a small whimper and I almost didn’t hear the doorknob turn. The door opened and Ben stood there, mouth agape as he stared at my hand. I quickly pulled it out. “Uh...did..uh...do you need something?”

“No,” I said. “I just wanted to know if you wanted to play a game,”

He looked at me confused so I stepped up and brought my lips to his. My kiss stunned him but not as much as my touch did. I reached down and rubbed at his length through his jeans.

He pulled back gasping. “Are you bloody serious right now?”

I nodded and brought my lips to the skin of his neck. “Come on, Ben...play with me,” I whispered wrapping my arms around him. He cursed and picked me up. He placed me on the sink and slammed the door shut. I yanked my shirt off and hopped down to rid myself of my shorts and panties. I hopped back up as Ben started to do the same. Once he was free of his pants he tugged on himself and stepped closer to me. I reached up and cupped his face in my hands pecking him on his lips. He kissed me back before pushing in. I bit back a moan as Ben let out a grunt.

“You feel so fucking good, love,” he muttered as he started to move. To say he knew what to do to get me to scream and writhe would be an understatement. He thrust into me as though for him it had been quite a while since he last had mind-blowing, toe-curling sex.

“Mm, fuck...I really did need this,” I moaned holding onto him as he slammed into me hitting my sweet spot. “FUCK! Ben! Right there, right there!”

Ben smirked. “Only if you moan my name again.”

“Ben,” I moaned as he slammed into me again. “BEN!”

I suddenly felt my body begin to tense up and I knew… ”Fuck Ben...I’m almost there!”

“It’s alright,” he said. “Come for me darling,” he pecked me on my lips. “Come on my dick.” He muttered.

Suddenly my body became still and I was screaming his name as I soaked his cock in my juices. Ben continued as I collapsed on the counter. Eventually, his body stiffened and he filled me up with a grunt that melted into a moan.

“You...are...bloody...amazing at that,” he said breathlessly.

“I’m amazing? Ben, I haven’t screamed that loud in years.” I said.

“Well then you’re ex is bloody miserable at sex,” he chuckled. “You deserve to scream like that each and every time you’re fucked, and I’m glad I was able to do it this time.” He reached down and pulled himself out of me. “Who knows...maybe I can do it again one day.”

I chuckled. “Maybe.”

I hopped down and cleaned myself up before getting dressed. We went back to the living room where Joe was smirking at us.

“Consider the Game commenceth,” I said.

“Ben, on a scale of one to ten, how was it?” he asked.

“One-fucking-thousand mate,” he said. Both Rami and Gwilym looked at us confused.

“Don’t worry you two, you’ll have your turn soon enough,” I said smirking at them.

We continued to hang out and when the sun began to set we agreed it was time for a movie. But first Gwil wanted to check in with his girlfriend. He disappeared into the kitchen with his phone.

“Joe do I really..?” I whispered.

“You know the rules babe,” he said.

“But he has a girlfriend,” I argued.

“Yeah,” Joe said. “A girlfriend that’s been giving him a lot of shit lately.”

Round 2- Gwilym:

I sighed decided it was useless to argue with Joe. A moment later I stood up and started towards the kitchen. Gwil was sitting at the dining table while on the phone and it did not look good.

“Darling, I swear I’ll be home by next week,” he said. “I know but...this isn’t exactly a small project you know...and these men are basically family to me I can’t just...Darling..? Darling..? FUCK!” he hung up and threw his phone onto the small dining table.

I stepped in awkwardly. “Hey, uh, is everything okay?”

“She’s threatened to leave me unless I go home tonight,” he said glumly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I sighed.

“Don’t be,” he said. “We’d sort of been crumbling for a while...we’ve been wanting to take the next step and have a baby and all that but...I have work. And it’s not like I’m working a regular nine-to-five I could quit just like that I’m...I’m living my dream.”

I walked up to him and wrapped my arms around him. “It’s gonna be okay Gwil,” I said. “Everything usually works out in the end.”

“Do you think it’ll work out for me?” he asked.

“I know it will,” I muttered pecking him on his scruffy cheek. “Any woman would be damn lucky to be with you,” I said pulling. “Hell, I feel lucky just knowing you.”

He smiled slightly at that. “I wouldn’t say I feel lucky knowing you,” he said. I looked at him slightly confused. “It wouldn’t be enough...I’m blessed to know you.” My lips were on his in an instant. His facial hair tickled me slightly, and I let out a small giggle. Gwil in turned smiled and wrapped his arms around me deepening the kiss. I climbed onto his lap and straddled him.

“God, what the fuck are we doing?” Gwil said before moving to kiss the skin of my neck.

“I dunno but I don’t want it to stop...do you?”

“No,” he said continuing his work on my neck. I started grinding on the bulge growing in his pants. He moaned. I continued moving my hips along the bulge until eventually, Gwil needed more.

He took me off of him and started undoing the button and zipper on his pants. I quickly pulled my shorts and panties down and looked up to see Gwil with his pants and boxers around his ankles and his length in his hand as he stared at me.

“Ready to play?” I muttered damn near purring the words. In response, Gwil wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me onto his lap. I hovered for a moment before sliding down onto his length. “HOLY SHIT!” Like the rest of him, his length was long and thick. Gwil hissed at the motion. After a while, I began to move.

Gwil pulled my shirt over my head a little while into it and began massaging my breast. I pulled his shirt off as well as I continued to move up and down his length. Now completely exposed to one another he brought his mouth to my breasts and started playing with my nipple. The feeling made me moan and move faster. Gwil grunted and brought his hands to my hips. He went in deep but not too hard.

You see while Ben was rough and damn near frantic Gwil took care of me. He made sure he wasn’t hurting me and did all he could to give us both a hell of an experience.

He picked me up after what felt like a lifetime of me riding him and laid me on the ground. He continued his caring ways as he thrust into me. I reached down and squeezed his (insanely perfect) fat-bottomed ass. He groaned at that and unintentionally thrust into my sweet spot. I moaned holding on to him.

He moved inside me hitting that same spot over and over again. “Gwil...I’m gonna…”

“It’s okay, darling,” he said. “D-Did you want me to cum on your stomach or..?”

“No,” I said getting closer to reaching my peak. “No, I want you inside me...please do it inside me.”

He looked slightly panicked. “What if I...fuck...what if I put a baby in you?”

I smiled. “Then I guess we’ll have to have a baby together.”

Suddenly a wave splashed over me making me arch my back and causing my toes to curl. I moaned and tightened around Gwil. He continued to thrust eventually letting out a loud moan as he shot his seed inside me. His body trembled as he came down from his high. He pecked me gently on my lips.

We cuddled there for a moment before standing up to get dressed. Gwil grabbed a paper towel and cleaned my cunt showing that his caring in sex didn’t stop at aftercare. I blushed and proceeded to get dressed. “Gwil?”

“Hm?” He looked up at me as he zipped up his pants.

“After the Game, do you think we could ever..?” And that’s when he cupped my face and kissed me. We pulled and were both smiling like idiots.

“I love you,” he muttered. My heart raced and I pecked him before saying…

“I love you too.”

Hand in hand we walked back into the living room having missed a good chunk of the movie.

“Jurassic Park again, really?” I said sitting next to Joe.

“Don’t avoid the subject Y/N/N,” Joe said. “Gwil, how’d it go?”

“About a million out of ten I’d say,” he smiled.

We continued to watch the movie which ended once the sun was fully gone. We agreed on watching one more movie before calling it a night and the temperature dropped to freezing levels (by Southern California standards I mean). I noticed Rami shivering.

Round 3- Rami:

I got up and ran to my room to get my favorite blanket. I grabbed it and went back to the living room sitting down beside Rami. “Here,” I motioned him to get under it.

“Oh, no I’m—.”

“I wasn’t asking, my King,” I said. He sighed and pulled the blanket over himself.

“Thanks,” he said.

For the last movie, we decided on one of my faves (come at me, I dare you!) Breaking Dawn Part 2. At first, it was just another innocent night with me and my boys. Then Rob and Kristen started having rough vampire sex. That plus the music made me relax into Rami.

“Wow, that’s actually kind of...hot,” Rami said.

“You know I’m willing to bet there are a lot of girls out there who imagine themselves like that with Benjamin,” I said. “Your Benjamin, I mean, not...okay probably our Ben too but...you know what I mean.”

“You think?” he looked at me questioningly.

I nodded. “I bet they even touch themselves while they do it too,” I muttered bringing my hand down to his leg. “Bet they even moan his name or even your name.” I started rubbing his length through the fabric of his pants. His eyes grew wide as he gasped.

“What the fuck are you..?”

I smirked up at him. “Time to play...my King.” I undid the button and zipper on his pants and brought my hand to his length which was already semi-hard. I ran my hand up and down his shaft feeling it grow more and more.

“Fuck,” he muttered. I smiled and brought my lips to his jaw. I kissed him softly, trailing up to his ear.

“Did you want to play here or..?”

“Behind the couch,” he said. “I-I don’t want them to see.”

“Yeah, ‘cause we sure as hell can’t hear anything,” Joe joked.

“Fuck off,” Rami said.

“Seriously though, it’s nothing we haven’t seen before,” Joe said. “You don’t have to be so nervous. ‘Side’s it’ll probably be better than the show those walking glitter bombs are putting on.”

Well, Joe did have a point.

Rami suddenly picked me up and placed me on the floor. “Let’s play, buttercup,” he muttered (in his Snafu accent no less)before pulling my shirt over my head. We stripped each other eagerly before Rami turned me so that I was on my knees. Like Freddie before him, Rami was really blessed in the dick department. As he positioned himself at my entrance (keeping the blanket on us at all times) I questioned for a moment how that would ever fit inside me. He made it work though.

I gasped as he stretched me.

“Huh-How the fuck are you all insanely big?” I asked stunned at how well endowed these four drastically different men were. Joe, Gwil, and Ben just chuckled at that.

The next few minutes were filled with our moans and slapping sounds as Rami thrust into me. I was basically bent over the couch between Joe and Gwil so as Rami took me from behind I could clearly see them with their hands on their lengths. Joe reached down and massaged my breast.

“Joey,” I moaned. “It’s not your turn yet.”

“I know,” he groaned, his other hand moving faster along his cock. “Fuck.”

Meanwhile, Rami reached around me and started rubbing my clit. “Oh fuck…” I moaned.

“That’s right Buttercup,” Rami muttered in my ear. “Cum for me. Cum all over this dick.”

My back arched and I tightened around him. “RAAMMIII!!!”

Unlike the others, he pulled out and jerked off onto my back. “FUUCCKK!!” he groaned as he painted my back.

“Hands down the best lay I’ve ever had,” Rami said breathlessly. “Million outta ten for sure.”

Round 4- Joe:

“J-Joey?” I said looking up at him.

“All ready for you Y/N/N,” he said motioning me to get up on the couch with him. Legs shaking I stood up and sank down onto his length. I road him harder than I did Gwil, mainly because it was the final round and lord knows the last was the most important in the Game.

Joe kissed my breast as he held me close.

“Fuck, it’s been so long,” he moaned.

“Not for me,” I smirked. I looked over and Gwil was still jerking himself. Looking around I found that Rami had collapsed on the floor (exhausted) and Ben was watching us with his length in his hand. I turned back to Joe kissed him once and picked up my pace. Joe chuckled.

“Someone’s having a good time,” he teased. I moaned.

“Just shut up and fuck me,” I said.

“As you wish,” he smirked before flipping me over. He rammed into me pushing me slightly forward so that my mouth was inches above Gwil’s cock. “You wanna suck it?”

I moaned and nodded.

“Go ahead,” Joe said.

I grabbed Gwil’s length and kissed the tip before sliding it into my mouth. Gwil hissed and his fists balled up.

I was getting lost in sucking when I heard Ben ask Joe, “Mate, do you mind?”

“Hang on a second Ben, I’m getting close,” Joe said. Sure enough a moment he threw his head back and slammed into me one last time before bursting inside me. He moaned and shook as he emptied himself. He then pulled out and another length was shoved inside me.

I pulled back from Gwil and looked behind me to see Ben thrusting into me, our skin smacking together.

I was on cloud nine.

Once Ben came for the second time I found myself getting close to bursting. I crawled onto Gwil and slid onto his length.

“I-I’m almost there,” I said riding him.

“Allow me then,” he said grabbing onto my hips and slamming up into me.

“OH FUCK!” He moved fast and hard. “Fuck! Gwil! Yes, yes, yes...right there, right there!”

Tension brewed within me and before I knew it I was tight around his length, soaking him in my juices. I threw my head back and screamed as I came hard. I collapsed on top of him and straddled him as he continued thrusting.

“Fuck! FUCK!” Gwil cursed bursting inside me.

We all collapsed in bliss, the movie long forgotten, and all of us spent beyond belief.

Now I've got a belly full You can be my sugar baby You can be my honey chile, yes

“So does anyone win in this game?” Ben asked.

Joe chuckled. “Y/N/N is...the winner is the person who screams the loudest.”

“I won last time too,” I said. “Thanks to Joe...I dunno if it’s a ginger thing or what but...damn!”

“Pretty sure it’s a Deacon thing,” Joe said.

“Oh yes, it’s definitely a Deacon thing darling,” Rami said in his Freddie accent.

I laughed. “You’re all idiots,” I looked up at Gwil who was currently my pillow. “But I love you.”

He smiled. “We love you too.”

“And we definitely have to play again someday,” Joe added.

“Not sure that’ll be possible with me and Gwil dating and all,” I said.

“Wait wuh?” Joe gawked at us.

“Are you serious?” Ben asked.

Rami just smiled.

Gwil and I laughed and kissed for the final time.

GAME OVER!

Taglist: @fairestkillerqueenofall @onceuponadetectivedemigod @boherahpsody @thebohemianpenguin @ihatethespacebars @rose-de-jaune @xxkellsvixen19xx @valeriecarolinaw @5sos-wdw @hearttshapeddboxx @pleasingiswhatweaimfor @hatemylifesofuckingmuch @painandpleasure86 @haileynicoleseavey17 @queenlover1997 @mrsmazzello @hannafuckingsucks @zwiezraczek @theborhapboysawakenedmywhatever @tinywildeace

[letsgetusaghostfriend]

A Green Day concert, a bloody nose and a coming out – Sunset Curve & Green Day I

Summary: Luke and Bobby got them tickets for the Green Day show in LA on November 2nd 1994, also known as the night Billie Joe punched a homophobe and Alex came out to the guys.

Friendship fic, super Alex & Bobby centred, Luke and Reggie are not straight but don’t know that yet. Also, I know most people think Alex came out way earlier, but he has to not be out for this story to work.

((warnings: homophobia, homophobic language (not fully written out except in the band name of the opening act), slight violence, mentioned: alcohol, underage drinking (I am german, so for me it’s not underage drinking but yeah), in general: swearing))

word count: 4.9k, read here on AO3 x

~

Luke and Bobby got four tickets for the Green Day show in LA on November 2nd in 1994, it was one of Green Day’s bigger shows at that time. The boys previously have been to other concerts of the band, but the last one was in a small club in ’92, of course, all four of them being way too young for that place. Luke and Reggie were the first ones out of their group to get fake ID’s, mainly to go to gigs and play gigs. In the beginning, Alex thought he would never do the same, too scared of possible consequences, but then Luke used his stupid puppy eyes. (They still work even after Alex crush died, dead and buried). And if he was being honest, it was really helpful for playing clubs if the owners can at least pretend that they believe the four boys are old enough to be there.

Alex was aware that Green Day’s opening act, Pansy Division, was an all-gay band. And he was excited and scared at the same time. He found out because this one kid in his English class, Josh, went to the San Diego show earlier that week and told one of his friends that he shouldn’t go to the LA show as Green Day was just a bunch of “f*g lovers” and not worth their time. So Alex was scared: what if his friends would say the same thing?

They arrive late and the line is massive, Alex anxiety pitches in and reminds him that if it takes too long for them to get inside, he might miss Pansy Divisions performance. Logically he knows that they wouldn’t start letting people in so late that the opening band already starts when most people are not inside yet, but his anxiety is not that into logical thinking. He can’t help being fidgety, at one point Luke noticed and asks him if the crowd is making him uncomfortable. “Yeah, a little bit” Alex responds, not wanting further questions about why he was so anxious. The boys keep close to the bar, staying in the back first, not too excited to get into the crowd just yet. Alex knows the others would be inside the first mosh pit if it wasn’t for his anxiety, but not once did they show any signs of annoyance about his hesitancy. They just patiently wait for Alex to get used to the crowd and atmosphere, never angry when he has a bad day and he never signals that it is okay for them to go into the more crowded areas. Sometimes, especially when Luke doesn’t know where to put his energy he and Reggie go, but they always make sure that at least one person stays with Alex. He probably should tell them how thankful he is for this more often (the others would disagree here since they feel like Alex thanks them too much).

When Pansy Division started playing Alex didn’t expect them to actually sing about hooking up with guys at rock concerts, loving men, having real, deep and meaningful relationships and just, in general, doing normal daily life stuff, living with a boyfriend and how it feels after a breakup. He feels so excited, almost jumping up and down to the beat, not able to put his excited energy out on the drums like he would if it was their own concert. Alex completely forgets to check the guys for any reactions, too involved in the music. He doesn’t see that the other three boys enjoy Pansy Divisions music just as much as he does. He doesn’t see Bobby eyeing him from the side, a knowing glint in his eye.

Alex doesn’t know that Bobby saw the way Alex would look at Luke when they were 14, at Brian from History when they were 15, and how he sometimes looks at pictures from Billie Joe Armstrong in magazines. Bobby also didn’t miss Alex’ obsession with the song Coming Clean. The other boys sometimes forget about how Bobby’s parents are genuine open-minded people, who introduce him to a lot more diverse people than his friends’ parents do. So yes, maybe Alex was discreet enough for Mr Luke Oblivious Patterson and Captain Reg Oblivious Peters, and his parents who anyway only see what they want to see, but not for Bobby. Bobby, who might from an outsider’s perspective looks like he is standing a bit outside this friendship group due to him being less loud and sociable than his friends, but Bobby who loves his friends with all his heart, Bobby who truly sees his friends and knows that this is where he belongs. Seeing the absolute bliss, happiness and excitement streaming from Alex like waves is contagious.

After Pansy Division finished their set and there was a short break before Green Day would start theirs, Bobby slips from their group, mumbling that he would get another beer. Instead, he goes to buy Pansy Divisions EP, because the band was genuinely good but mostly because he knows Alex wouldn’t buy it, but he will definitely want it. On his way to the little corner where they sell the Green Day merch as well as Pansy Division stuff, Bobby realises that it was actually packed, but he soon saw that it was just a long long line for the Green Day merch. Actually, there are so many people he can’t even see the Green Day merch salesperson. He manages to get to the guy who took care of the Pansy Division stuff, he greets him with a head nod and a short “hey”, while scrambling his money out of his pant pockets to count it. He’ll have to nick a bit off of Luke’s beer later, not having enough money left to buy another one. When he reaches out to hand out the money for the CD somebody joins the guy who cared for the merch. Bobby recognises that it’s the singer of Pansy Division and he smiles at him. “Great performance, really enjoyed you guys’ music!”. The singer grins at that and holds out his left hand, which Bobby finds a bit strange, but takes it nonetheless.

“Jon, nice to meet you.”

“Bobby, pleasure is all mine.”

“Ah, you’re a musician yourself!” Jon says while checking out Bobby as if he could tell whether the kid in front of him was any good based on his appearance. It took the guitarist a second to realise that Jon must’ve felt his calloused fingers from playing the guitar during the handshake. “Yeah, I’m actually here with my bandmates.” A voice in his head, that sounds suspiciously like Reggie tunes in with “We’re Sunset Curve, tell your friends.” But Bobby pretty much felt like a child trying to play in the adults’ league, so he doesn’t say anything else. Jon grabs the CD he was about to buy and opens it while asking “So Bobby, is the CD for you or someone else?” Taken aback by that question Bobby tells him without thinking “We kind of always share records. Em, so maybe Sunset Curve?” Jon who was about to sign the inside of the CD case, pauses and looks up again “You’re in Sunset Curve?”

“Yeah, rhythm guitar.” He answers without much of a thought, it takes him two seconds then he adds: “You’ve heard of us?” Jon chuckles at Bobby’s shocked tone.

“Saw you play a few months ago. Didn’t remember your name till Mike mentioned one of your songs, always called you “the band with the cute drummer” actually.” Jon casually explained to a still shell-shocked Bobby. The comment about Alex makes him choke on his own spit though. Jon smirks, but before he can say more Bobby’s mouth starts talking before his brain gave its okay: “You saw us well enough to say that Alex is cute, but you didn’t recognise me?” After the words left his mouth, he feels his face heat up.

‘Way to embarrass yourself by having too much of an ego, Robert, great job’, he thought to himself. But Jon again laughs it off, as if he made a funny joke, smirks and asks if Alex was here tonight.

“He is,” Bobby says, voice cold, “he is also sixteen.”

Now it was Jon’s time to look embarrassed. “Oh shit, never mind then.” He pauses. “Sixteen is a bit young to play that club you played, isn’t it?” He pauses again. “You guys take this whole music thing seriously, I like that!”

More at ease again after Jon’s reaction to Alex’ age, Bobby’s brain finally catches up with everything Jon said before he called Alex cute.

“Wait, Mike as in Mike Dirnt? As in Mike Dirnt mentioned one of our songs?” he asks astounded. Jon laughs at the utter bewilderment that the younger one’s face was showing. But before he could say something about it a loud voice behind Bobby sneers: “Oh look at that, Bobby the f*g lover.” He turns around and sees Andrew from his math class. “Always knew at least one of you would be a shirt lifter!”

Bobby tries to take a deep breath before he answers but Jon beats him to it. “I would really think people were clever enough to listen to lyrics, but you still find the poser ones at these concerts, especially since Dookie got Green Day so popular outside of the scene!” Bobby needed a few seconds to realise that Jon wasn’t even talking to Andrew but instead just talked about him to Bobby and the guy selling the merch.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that you fucking fairy!” Andrew sneers, stepping closer to Jon. As soon as Andrews anger is directed towards Jon and not Bobby anymore, the guitarists fight instinct kicks in.

“Fairy? Really?” he asks Andrew with a snigger in his voice, “Didn’t know we live in the 50s, Andrew. Learned all these terms from your daddy?” Bobby tries to make his voice sound as degrading as possible. For a second it seems like Andrew might shut up and leave but then Jon starts laughing loudly about Bobby’s comments and before anyone can react Andrew takes a swing and hits Jon right on the mouth. Without thinking, Bobby copies his action and the next thing he knows is that his hand hurts and Andrew has a red square on the side of his face. He glares at the guitarist and strikes again. This time the fist hits Bobby’s nose and he sees black stars in front of his eyes for a few seconds. After that, all hell is breaking loose and Bobby is being pushed around for what feels like a few minutes before he gets pulled aside and finds himself behind the selling booth with Jon by his side who has a busted lip that is still bleeding. Jon has a hand on the teen's shoulder and looks worried at him. “Fuck your nose does not look too good!” he says. Hearing the words Bobby brings his hand up to his nose and winces when he feels a sharp pain as soon as his fingers touch his nose. “Fuuuuuuuuck, Alex is going to kill me!” he groans at the thought of how the blond will react to seeing Bobby like this.

“Hey man, good punch you got on the dickhead there!” an excited voice states beside Bobby, which makes him turn his head probably a bit too quick, considering he just got punched in the face a few minutes before. But the guitarists' instincts were right: standing beside him was no other than Green Days’ singer, Billie Joe Armstrong. The blond (with fading blue in his hair) is smiling at Bobby and continues with “but I think mine was even better” while pointing at something behind Bobby, who turns around just in time to see security carrying a half-conscious Andrew out of the venue.

“You know that guy?”

“He goes to my school!” Bobby answers, still in awe looking after Andrew.

“Oh, you need to tell me about how he looks tomorrow, man I don’t miss high school but I’d love to go to school just to see that!” Billie Joe tells him and Jon, still sounding way too excited. When Bobby turns around again to look at the two musicians in front of him, he catches Jon telling Billie Joe that Bobby is part of the band they talked about the other day. Somehow getting even more excited by the news he fully turns back to Bobby. “Love that! We need more good people in this scene so we can make sure the music stays clean of dudes like that! Well, it was lovely punching homophobes with you Bobby, but I actually have a concert to play!”

And with that Billie Joe is gone through the door leading to the backstage area and Bobby looks at Jon hoping that he can find answers with him (like is he hallucinating?) but he just chuckles at the teenagers in awe face and takes the CD Bobby wanted to buy all along, as well as the money he had already paid and hands both back at the teen with the words “I think you paid enough for this already, thanks for sticking up for me!” And adding, when Bobby tries to give the money back again, “You better go so your bandmates don’t worry and you don’t miss the Green Day show!” Bobby thanks him and with a smile he makes his way back to the other boys while putting the money and the CD into his pockets.

When Alex finally sees Bobby come back to them, he feels relief washing over him. Alex always hates it when they split especially if one of them is on their own and Bobby has been gone for way too long. The first thing Alex notices is that Bobby doesn’t carry any beer or anything else that he could’ve brought from a bar, the second thing is that Bobby’s nose is bleeding. The easing relief is instantly replaced by worry as Alex's brain catches up with his eyes. As soon as the guitarist reaches them Alex starts searching his fanny pack for tissues and anything else that can help with a bloody nose, all while berating Bobby about getting into a fight. Reggie and Luke excitedly ask Bobby about it, but when their bleeding bandmate tries to tell them about what happened Alex just shushes him and gestures for him to look up so that he can take a better look at his nose. While Alex is still cleaning up Bobby’s face the crowd starts cheering and Alex turns around quickly to confirm his suspicion that the main act finally made it on stage. He keeps on cleaning his friends face from now slightly dried blood when he hears Billie Joe's voice over the speakers.

“Sorry guys, I know we’re late, but I had to punch a homophobe…” The rest of the sentence does not reach Alex’ brain as he looks at one of his best friends, whose nose was bleeding after obviously being punched and all he can hear is white noise, while the realisation, that Bobby being the homophobe who was just punched by Green Days’ singer, sets in. He feels a sharp sting in his chest all while feeling overwhelmed by fear, cold naked fear. And his thoughts race through his brain, too fast to actually make any sense, all he knows is that his worst nightmare seems to be coming true: the people he trusts the most will eventually leave him. They will hate him. They will think he is disgusting, and they will leave him. Unconsciously he takes a step back from Bobby, taking both his hands off his friends face but before he can totally spiral into his thoughts, he is caught by Bobby who holds the drummer by his wrists and looks at him like Alex offended him deeply.

“Seriously?” Bobby’s voice comes out sharper than he probably intended, softening his tone as he sees Alex flinch at him, “You actually think I am homophobic? Fuck Alex do you really think that poorly of me?” The guitarists' words and face are both filled with what Alex can only describe as hurt. Bobby attempts to say more but he is cut off by Billie Joe's voice coming over the speakers saying his name.

“A special thanks to Bobby from Sunset Curve! Make sure you check them out they’re a local band that’ll make it big one day, I’ll promise you! I swear, give them less than a year and they’ll be playing here on this very stage! Thanks, Bobby, for helping me punch a dickhead!” And with that they start into their first song, leaving the boys standing completely mind blown in the back, each one trying to comprehend what just happened. After a few seconds, Reggie, Luke and Alex all turn to Bobby with questioning faces, but Bobby concentrates on Alex’ face. “Do you believe me now?” When Alex nods the, still bleeding, guitarist feels relief wash over him. “Good! Because I already have your Christmas present and I literally know no one else who has the same taste that you have!” He actually manages to make Alex smile with his stupid comment, feeling like they might be okay again, he holds onto Alex’ sleeve, needing something to ground him, knowing that Alex is uncomfortable with public affection. He turns to Luke and Reggie who as soon as they have his attention try to bombard him with questions, but he stops them and promises to tell them later.

___

After the concert:

When they leave the venue, a wave of, for L.A. unusually cold air, hits Bobby’s face and clears his head a little, making it easier to think about everything that had happened. As he was the first one out of the four to step out in the cold air, he takes a deep breath before turning around to see the other three boys walk up to him. He notices that Alex pulls his jean jacket tighter around his body, clearly not enjoying the cold air as Bobby does. He smiles at Bobby and then follows Reg and Luke who started walking towards the side street where they parked the van before the concert. The two boys talk animatedly about the Green Days show, analysing every detail. Seeing one of their favourite bands live did distract the two enough for them to not ask any further questions, right now. Alex smile tells Bobby that the same did not count for the blonde boy. Bobby jogs up to Alex to walk beside him, but when he tries to initiate a conversation with his bandmate, the blonde just shakes his head and mumbles, that he has things to think, but as if to calm Bobby down, Alex takes his hand and squeezes it before they reach their van. The van they brought because they actually started to be able to book enough gigs to pay for it (and to actually need it), they all paid for it, even though they don’t talk about the fact that Bobby paid the biggest part, with him having the only parents who actually support the band.

Bobby is driving, with Alex in the passenger seat lost in his thoughts and Luke and Reggie in the back, trying to get Bobby to finally tell them about what happened at the venue. The guitarist promises to tell them as soon as they arrive at the garage, but despite the impatience from Luke and Reggie to find out about everything they still have a quick stop at a small diner on their way home to get their after-concert food.

Alex, Reggie and Luke all go straight for the couch while bobby prefers sitting on the floor, facing them. For a few seconds they all munch happily but soon Luke starts bugging Bobby about what happened at the club, so he puts his sandwich aside and takes a short breath. He doesn’t know where to start, he kind of wants Alex to know that he got the CD for him, but he doesn’t want to put any pressure on Alex, nor does he want the other two to find out about Alex liking boys before Alex wants them to.

“So,” Bobby starts, “we all really liked Pansy Division, right?” he asks with a nervous laugh tinting his words. He looks at the three boys on the couch for confirmation and gets it from two of the boys while Alex looks like he gets scared by the simple indication that he might have really liked the queer band they all saw tonight. Bobby acts like he didn’t see it while deciding, that he won’t tell the blond that Jon was hitting on him. That might be a bit much information for one night. “Well, I thought,” he continues while pulling out the CD he brought earlier “I’ll get us their CD.” He waves the CD then places it on the table in front of the couch so the guys can look at it.

“And that’s where I met one of the band members, Jon, he is the singer.” He looks up at his friends who all stare at him with a mixture of shock and curiosity on their faces, even Alex nervousness seems replaced. ‘I didn’t even get to the really shocking parts yet’, Bobby thought to himself.

“Okay, so we got talking, he found out I play in a band and when he asks for a name to use to sign the CD I just said Sunset Curve, because we always share records, like I mean I don’t even know who owns what anymore!” Luke looks dead serious while nodding his head, Alex starts smiling slightly and Reggie looks like he is trying really hard to separate their shared music collection in his head.

“Anyway, it turns out he saw one of our shows earlier this year and apparently, he was talking about one of our songs with Mike, but before you get too excited, I couldn’t ask him about it because that dick Andrew from my math class interrupted us. He called me a – eh, never mind” he stops himself, giving Alex a short glance – “he started calling me and Jon names and I kind of started making fun of him for using really outdated terms and when Jon laughed about that, Andrew hit him and then I hit Andrew and he hit me back and suddenly everything got crazy. Next thing I know is that I am behind the merch booth with Jon and Billie Joe Armstrong, and Andrew is being carried outside by security.” He tries to rush the words out fast enough so that Luke doesn’t stop him because of the band being recognised and Alex doesn’t stop him because he hit someone.

“And then Billie Joe finds out I am in Sunset Curve and he says something about it being good that more good people will keep the scene going or something and then he pretty much left to play the show and Jon gave me the CD and I went back to you guys so you wouldn’t worry too much.” When he finally finishes his story, he is staring at three really shocked looking faces.

“Mike Dirnt and Billie Joe both know of Sunset Curve?”

“Who knew Bobby is such a badass!”

“You hit Andrew?”

All three started talking at the same time, but then Alex stands up and he looks real mad and everyone else shuts up. Bobby looks at him. “Alex, I didn’t plan to, it just happened. I got so mad when he started calling Jon these awful names and when he hit him, I just snapped.”

“What about our no fighting rule, huh?”

“So, when someone is being super homophobic, I am just supposed to do nothing?”

At that moment Bobby realises that Alex didn’t process until now that Andrew was using homophobic slurs against Bobby and Jon. He sees Alex anger vanish from him in mere seconds, replaced by fear and sadness settling in his eyes. Lips pressed into a thin line Alex sits down on the couch again. It breaks Bobby’s heart to see his friend like this. They all stay silent for a while.

“What did he say?” Alex asks with a voice so quiet Bobby almost misses it.

“Alex,” he sighs, “I am pretty sure you don’t want to know!”

With that Alex's eyes, which were glued to his hands before, snap up and meet Bobby’s. “You know, don’t you?” Alex asks Bobby, seemingly completely forgetting that the other boys are in the room.

Bobby does not know what to answer, not wanting to make Alex come out because he feels like he has to, or because Bobby figured it out already. “I only know what you want me to know, everything else is just a hunch.” He finally settles on.

Alex laughs. “So, you definitely know, and I actually thought I was being subtle.”

“I still love you, you know that, right?” Bobby just needs Alex to know that. Even if this is a weird one, Bobby wants this to be the reaction Alex gets for his first coming out.

It takes Alex a few seconds but finally, he looks up again, searching Bobby’s face for any trace of him lying. As Alex realises that the boy in front of him means what he said he feels like the biggest wave of relief washes over him. This, black-haired, awkward and quiet boy in front of him, who buys CD’s from queer bands, punches one of his classmates because he was being a homophobic bigot to a complete stranger and whose first reaction to Alex half-assed coming out is to tell him that he still loves him. This boy, who is so uncomfortable with most people touching him, who still wants to hold all of their hands all the time, calling them grounding. This boy, who would probably punch more people to protect them because he gets crazy protective about the people he cares about. And suddenly it’s difficult not to start crying and Alex feels like his voice will break if he tries to talk so he just nods.

And in that second, knowing he has Bobby on his side for this, he decides that he wants them all to know. So, he gets up from the couch and “gets on the runway” as Luke likes to call Alex’ nervous walking occasionally. After walking up and down three times, he suddenly stops, turns to Luke and Reg who look super confused by what is happening and he blurts out “Iamgay” so fast that there was no way that any of the guys could’ve understood a single word. So, he takes a deep breath and repeats: “I am gay” while standing there, eyes closed, and breath held.

“Oh, that…” Luke starts, but he gets interrupted by Reggie who says: “That makes so much sense, that is why you were staring at Brian so much last year! That really confused me, man!”

“I was... I was not staring at Brian Denver!” Alex sputters embarrassment creeping in his cheeks.

“You totally were, you even knew who Reg was talking about right away!” Luke laughs and gets up to pull Alex in a big hug, squeezing him tight. Reggie gets a hold of them and pulls them down on the couch where he squeezes between them, and wooshes through Alex’ hair affectionately. Alex, now half sitting on the couch and half lying on Reggie looks up to Bobby, who stands awkwardly in front of the couch. As the other two notice Bobby as well they all kind of freeze in their cuddle pile. Even as Bobby was more comfortable touching his bandmates than he was with touching his parents, or literally anyone else, he still never expressed any interest in being part of a cuddle pile before. Seeing how all of his friends stopped as he approached, the guitarist started taking a step back, but Alex stopped him by holding out his hand for Bobby to take. It takes him a few seconds but finally, he lets himself being pulled on top of Alex into the cuddle pile and even though it feels strange at first he likes the feeling of Alex’ soft t-shirt under his cheek, Reggie’s arm around his waist and the smell of Luke’s cologne.

Later that night Bobby snatches a picture of his best friends still cuddling on the couch hours later, now all fast asleep. He hasn’t shown that picture to anyone except for his daughter when she finds out about the band 25 years later and he decides to tell her about the loves of his life, even if most people wouldn’t recognise them as it since it was purely platonic love. And even though he got married, he never loved anyone as much, with the exception of his daughter, as he loved the three boys who left him when he was just 17 years old.

The next day Bobby snatches a picture of Andrews black eye. He shows that picture to Billie Joe, backstage at an event he attempts without his best friends after the man recognises him as the kid with whom he punched a homophobe. After that Bobby leaves the event early, not being able to hold up the image of Trevor, too consumed by grieve and guilt. Guilt over not being able to protect them. Guilt over not dying with them. Guilt over using their songs.

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Vaunna my beloved ❤

After your amazing Wels and Hels armorstand scene on my server could I get Wels and Hels story? Please? 👉👈

Oca my beloved ❤️

This is genuinely one of my favourite oneshots I’ve written. I just love the Wels/Hels dynamic so much. 

Also this is technically a sequel to the last one I wrote so go read it here if you like! This one does make sense without it tho

...

  It’s been a few weeks since the server has seen an evil hermit incident, and even though most of the hermits have let down their guard, Welsknight hasn’t. He hasn’t stopped being vigilant since his last encounter with Helsknight. He knows that his evil counterpart is out there somewhere, waiting for another chance to kill him. 

  Wels knows he can’t give him that chance. 

  One morning, while out in the desert, grinding for sand, Wels keeps spotting movement out the corner of his eye but every time he looks, he sees nothing. At first, he thinks it’s just the desert playing tricks on his mind. But his knight training tells him not to be so quick to jump to conclusions. 

  Eventually, he decides to put most of his stuff in a chest and go have a look, just in case. He leaves his valuables in the chest and explores the immediate area, looking carefully for any threats.

  He hears the sound behind him and twists to the side, a split second before a figure appears out of nowhere and attempts to shove him to the ground. 

  Wels jumps back a few steps and raises his diamond pickaxe, realising too late he accidentally brought it instead of his sword. “Helsknight.”

  His evil counterpart grins. “Hey, Welsy. Your face is looking great.”

  Wels’s hand automatically rises to his cheek, where the burn scar from their last encounter still sits. “Thanks. What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here for you, of course. It’s time we have another little battle, don’t you think?”

  Normally, Wels wouldn’t hesitate to stay and fight. But he doesn’t have a real weapon and his inventory is practically empty. 

  So he bolts back towards his chest, intending to grab his sword for a proper battle. But then he realises he may be running directly into a trap, so he changes direction.

  However, at that moment, the ground under his feet gives way, sending him tumbling down into the hole below.

  His fall seems to last only a few seconds but it must be far; when he hits the ground, pain explodes through his whole body. He’s fallen very far. 

  A second after he lands, he hears a splash from nearby and glances up. With the sunlight streaming through the hole, he can see a figure emerging from a single source block of water to his left. His heart skips a beat. 

  “You idiot!” Hels snaps, tossing the bucket at the wall. “You triggered the trap too soon! I wasn’t out of the way yet!”

  “Oh, I’m sorry!” Wels’s voice is strained from pain but his anger is unmistakable. “You’re right; I should have been able to avoid the secret trap you set up for me. Dang it. But hey, at least I’m not now stuck in a hole in terrible pain with next to no resources! That sure wouldn’t be ideal!”

  Hels glares at him. “Quit it with the sarcasm. This is all your fault.”

  Wels feels indignance boil inside him but he forces himself not to rise to the bait. His rational mind knows there’s no point arguing with Hels. “Whatever. I’m gonna see if my friends will come save me.”

  He taps out a message to the server asking for help, and within a minute, he gets replies from both Etho and Joe.

  “They’re on their way,” he says. “You may as well relax, cuz we’re not going anywhere ‘til then.”

  Hels huffs and sits down a few blocks away from Wels, crossing his arms irritably. 

  They sit in silence for a long time. The sun crosses the sky above them, marking the end of the morning and the start of the afternoon. 

  After a while, Wels decides to try and be practical. He checks his inventory; all he has on him is his diamond pickaxe, sixteen obsidian, a flint and steel, a single piece of bread, and some seeds. Nothing particularly useful. There aren’t enough blocks to pillar out, and Wels can hardly move while sitting, let alone standing, anyway. He could make a nether portal, but what would be the point? There’s no way he can survive better in the nether than in this pit right now. 

  He glances up. “Hels, do you have-.”

  “I don’t have anything on me, useful or otherwise,” says Hels immediately.

  Wels knows this means he doesn’t have food on him either. He can tell from the pouty expression on Hels’s face that his counterpart is hungry. Even though Wels’s hunger was reduced somewhat by the fall, he decides to be the bigger person. 

 He breaks his loaf of bread in half and offers the bigger part to Hels, who eyes him suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

  Frowning confusedly, Wels replies, “Giving you some bread.”

  “Why?”

  “...because we both need food?”

  “Yeah, so why don’t you just eat it all? You’ll be fuller.”

  “But you won’t have any.” Wels shakes his hand. “Just take it.” 

  Hels continues to scowl at him. “Is it poisoned?”

  Sighing and rolling his eyes, Wels flicks the piece of bread into Hels’s lap and starts slowly eating his own. Out the corner of his eye, he watches Hels carefully inspect the bread before taking a hesitant bite. Finally satisfied that he isn’t being tricked, Hels starts to gobble the bread.

  Wels watches him curiously. “Why would I try to poison you, Hels?”

  Hels shrugs. “We’re enemies, isn’t that what we do? Try to kill each other?”

  “No,” Wels says. “That’s the way YOU see our relationship. I never wanted to be enemies with you, you know.”

  “Really? Wasn’t it you who started all this?”

  “No, you literally turned up out of the blue and dropped me in a hole one day. Then I destroyed you in a rap battle. Remember that?”

  “I remember the hole,” says Hels. “Don’t remember losing any rap battle.”

  “Uh huh.”

  The two fall into silence as they eat. Wels continues to watch Hels, who has already finished his half of the bread. 

  “Can I make an observation?” he asks after a few minutes.

  Hels huffs. “No but you’re gonna do it anyway.”

  “You’re not used to the concept of sharing, are you?”

  “Sharing?” Hels sits up straighter, a possessive look appearing in his eyes. “I don’t share anything! Nothing!”

  “That’s not what I meant,” says Wels. “I meant the concept of people voluntarily sharing things with you.” 

  Hels glares at him for a moment longer, before relaxing visibly. “No. Back in my dimension, it’s every person for themselves. You protect what you’ve got cuz if you don’t, you’re gonna lose it forever, so people hoard their stuff like it’s made of gold. I never got attached to anything cuz I knew it’d probably get snatched away from me sooner or later. I-.” He breaks off as he registers Wels’s expression. “Oh, don’t you dare pity me,” he growls. 

  “I’m not.”

  “Yes you are, you’re looking at me like I’m an abandoned baby dog or something.”

  Wels raises an eyebrow. “Baby dog? You mean a puppy?”

  “Shut up!” Hels growls again and huffily turns away from his counterpart. “I’m not a stupid puppy for you to adopt and train! If I get the opportunity, I WILL kill you. I would gladly leave you here to rot if it meant I could get outta this stupid hole. In fact, the only reason I’m not beating you to death right now is because you’re my best chance of getting out of here alive.”

  A pause follows his words. 

  Eventually, Wels sighs. “Sometimes, it’s so easy to see that you’re all the worst parts of me combined.”

  To his surprise, Hels doesn’t respond. His arms are folded but Wels can’t see his expression, can’t see that his counterpart’s eyes are misted over. 

  Hels is frustrated with himself; Wels has insulted him many times since their first meeting so why did that one little remark hurt him so much? Why has it brought him to tears like this? 

  Maybe it’s because Wels’s remark forced him to remember that he’s not his own person. He wasn’t born organically; he was brought into existence by a combination of Wels and a weird cloning machine. The nature of his “birth” means he isn’t a real person. He’s just a copy of Wels, made up of all the parts of himself that he hates.  

  Maybe that’s all he’ll ever be.

  A soft groan brings Hels out of his thoughts. He glances to the right and sees that Wels’s condition has deteriorated; his skin has rapidly paled and he’s clearly struggling to breathe. 

  As Hels watches, Wels reaches a shaking hand into his inventory and weakly throws an item to Hels, who catches it and turns it over. It’s a flint and steel. 

  Hels glances up in time to see Wels drop some obsidian down beside him as well. “Go, Hels,” he rasps. “Make a portal and go back to the nether.”

  Hels blinks, his mind racing as he tries to figure out the catch. “What are you doing? Why did you give me this?”

  “So you can escape. My friends are coming for me but I’ll probably die before they get here. If you’re still here when they arrive, there’s no telling what they’ll do to you. Just go while you still can.”

  After a moment, Hels narrows his eyes. “Are you tricking me? What’s the catch?”

  “Nothing,” Wels insists weakly. “Just please, go, quickly.”

  “No, seriously. Why are you so insistent I leave?”

  “B-Because…” Wels hesitates, taking in a shaky breath. “Because it’s getting dark and the mobs will be coming soon and I don’t want you to die. If I die, I respawn. You don’t.”

  Hels stares at his counterpart in confusion. “You… don’t want me to die?”

  “Of course not. How many times do we have to-.”

  He breaks off as he tries to stifle a pained cry. The fall damage he took is starting to catch up with him now. 

  The groan of a zombie sounds from nearby. Hels’s eyes widen with fear.

  “Go, Hels!” Wels’s voice cracks. “Please!” 

  Looking deep into his counterpart’s eyes and finding nothing but fear and desperation in them, Hels turns and creates a portal on the very edge of the pit, lighting it up with the flint and steel. 

  He glances back at Wels one final time, before disappearing through the portal.

  Wels closes his eyes, breathing a shallow sigh. His counterpart should be safe; if he’s anything like Wels himself, he knows how to survive on his own. 

  As the mob sounds start to surround him, he feels a calm sense of relief. He knows he’ll respawn back in his bed, and at this moment, he doesn’t care that he’ll lose the items he has on him right now. He just wants the pain to end. 

…

  Hidden safely in the nether, Hels clutches the flint and steel his counterpart gave him. He can’t stop staring at it; it represents the sacrifice Wels made for him. The first time anyone has been willing to lay down their own life for him. He can hardly believe it even happened at all; the concept of loving someone enough to want to protect them even at the cost of their own life is completely foreign. 

  As he’s puzzling this out, a message appears on the communicator he stole from Wels during their last confrontation. A message he knew deep down was coming, but one that still catches him off guard. 

Welsknight was slain by zombie

[fonulyn]

fonulyn’s 2020 in fics

this is kind of exciting since in 2020 I did get a lot writing done, and it marks the second year in a row that I’m able to actually make one of these posts after that horrible not good at all terrible disastrous three and a half years when I wrote absolutely nothing. so it’s a triumph to get another one of these up! personal victory haha.

in total, in 2020 I wrote 148 fics, ranging from like 200 words to 34k (idk if those short things can be called fics but i just did). by pairing, there’s

13 of Joe/Nicky

58 of Piers/Leon

56 of Chris/Leon

(1 with Piers/Leon and Chris/Leon)

5 of the ot3 (Chris/Leon/Piers)

11 of Krauser/Leon

3 of Wesker/Chris (lmao still can’t believe this)

1 of Chris/Leon/Krauser

so. in retrospect, i did okay. 

it’s over 300 thousand words and I am kind of. surprised. and that is not counting the approximately 50k of wips i’m ignoring :’D

I’d also like to take a second to thank everyone who has ever sent me nice messages, commented on the fics, left reblogs or kudos, and the like. you’re what kept me going, I wouldn’t have gotten even half as much done otherwise.

without further ado, links to all of the fics under the cut! they’re organized by pairing, and the links take you to tumblr posts (bc I’m lazy) and a lot of them have a link in the post that takes you to ao3. (also can you see I put ~~so much~~ effort into naming the tumblr ficlets :’D feel free to laugh at me)

Joe/Nicky

a dog by any other name | 1,5k | The one wherein they end up owning a dog.

within the heart a flame of desires | 5,0k | Nicolo watches Yusuf have sex with others, desperately wishing he was with him instead. Until things change. He much prefers having Yusuf all for himself.

the world will wait | 2,4k | The one wherein Joe takes a lot of naps and the whole team gets to relax.

catch this | 650w | Every time Joe gets distracted (by Nicky), Andy tries to take him by surprise.

nobody’s perfect | 1,9k | Even immortal warriors have their weaknesses, Nile learns. Those just aren’t what she expected.

only in these arms | 780w | Nicky has trouble sleeping alone. Andy is a decent substitute, but only when Joe returns so does Nicky’s ability to get a decent night’s rest.

(please don’t explain) that time in Malta | 580w | Nile doesn’t think at first it would even be possible for Joe to be embarrassed. By anything. Until one evening, they talk about Malta.

cool it down boys | 400w | Andy gets no sleep. She gets revenge, though.

cowboy, baby | 340w | Nicky has the fashion sense of a sack of flour, and he is fine with that.

that day is not today | 4,9k | They struggle through the whole lab-experience. It isn’t the time yet to forgive Booker.

tea, soup and tlc | 2k | The one wherein Joe is not sick. At all. Nope. He isn't.

two drinks too many | 770w | Nicky is a little drunk. Joe loves him anyway.

safe haven | 3,9k | The one wherein everyone gets quality cuddles from Joe.

Piers/Leon

it was you that I found | 23,4k | Leon doesn’t really do relationships. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he always seems to be so bad at them. Of course entirely by accident he manages to build one without even realizing it. 

unexpected visitor | 690w | Piers is forced on bed-rest. At least Leon stops by.

got me all tied up (never let me go) | 4,0k | Piers doesn’t like suits. Leon loves Piers in a suit.

not so subtle | 210w | “Soo, were you checking me out all night, or was that just my imagination?” Leon asks suddenly, Piers chokes on his drink in surprise.

nighttime fools | 4,8k | Piers and Leon get arrested for public indecency. It’s not their fault, honest.

piers isn’t sick, really, he isn’t (he is) | 670w | “Oh, hi,” Piers said immediately, a goofy smile slipping onto his face. Man, he was happy to see Leon. So happy to see him.  

so you’ve met Xena | 620w | “Xena?” Leon turned to look at Piers, decidedly unimpressed. “You named your dog after the Warrior Princess?“

you’re cute, you know | 680w | Piers took the opportunity the second their gazes met. He grinned, as charmingly as he possibly managed, and said “You’re cute, you know that?“

kiss the nightmares away | 470w | Sleepily Piers blinked, trying to make his eyes work properly. He squinted at the digital clock on the bedside, and its harsh red numbers that told him it was 3:30, and confusedly he turned to frown at Leon. “Why aren’t you sleeping?“

smooth talking, Nivans, very smooth | 1,4k | Piers can not control what comes out of his mouth.

dream a little (dirty) dream of me | 1,3k | Piers wakes Leon up. That's it.

your shirt is my shirt | 950w | With a sigh Piers grabbed the only shirt available that wasn’t battery operated and obnoxious. It was Leon’s, so old that the print had faded completely, leaving only faint outlines behind. And when Piers pulled it on he grumbled again, realizing how tight it was.

here for you | 620w | Leon can’t sleep, but somehow Piers makes his anxieties bleed away. 

grand plans | 260w | “Are you seriously going to wear that?”

new puppy | 430w | “Hey there little guy.” Leon bent down to pick up the little puppy, straightening again to hold it against his chest. His hands looked almost comically large as the dog was so tiny, and carefully he cradled it close.

a little bit funny | 850w | So maybe Piers hadn’t slept properly in days, and the sleep deprivation was making him a little hysterical, but he didn’t even remember when a stupid comedy would’ve made him laugh so much.

for now our time is here | 4,4k | When Chris had told them to wait up and left them alone for a while, this probably wasn’t what he’d been expecting, but the second he’d closed the door behind himself the tension that had been brewing between Leon and Piers had snapped like a cord.

wanting too much | 1,1k | “Fucking hell, never do that to me again,“ Leon huffed out, clearly relieved beyond anything.

the prettiest agent with the prettiest hair | 1,2k | Piers stress-braids. Leon doesn't mind. And besides, Piers always undoes the braids whenever he's done with them. Until one night he forgets.

you can be the air that i breathe | 1,0k |  It wasn’t the first time Piers got punched in the face by a gigantic BOW so hard that the hit sent him flying. It was, however, the first time he was sent careening off a bridge and into the river below. And it was, definitely, the first time Leon saved his life.  

before I found you | 890w | The second Piers realized that the spikes covering the monster actually came off, and it was able to shoot them towards its attackers, it was already too late for him to react.

you don’t need to stay | 950w | Piers did his best to take care of Leon.  And as much as Leon appreciated it, he didn’t want to be a goddamn nuisance.

need me, baby, just a little stronger tonight | 2,1k | Leon really has to practice perfecting his poker face. At least he gets what he wants in the end.

be my valentine | 920w | “Are you sure?“ Piers asked for the tenth time, frowning down at the bar of Fazer blue chocolate. “I still think it’s… not a lot?”

you're the world that I wanna discover | 7,5k | The one wherein they buy a house, fall even more in love, and Leon reaches a breaking point.

call me (tell me what you feel) | 1,7k | Leon is stuck at the airport. At least he gets a nice phone call with Piers.

incentive to stay alive | 1,0k |  "Hey, Nivans, wake up,” he tried, but there was no answer, and he couldn’t help but let the worry in his voice. “Piers. Don’t you dare die on me. Chris would kill me if I let anything happen to his best sniper.”

blanket hog Leon | 880w | Grumbling, Piers turned around, and as he’d expected Leon was cozily wrapped in at least four blankets, leaving nothing for Piers, who was currently freezing his ass off.

I give you all I am | 2,0k | “Leon?” Piers approached in quick steps, watching recognition flicker in Leon’s eyes as he lowered his own weapon too. Leon was slumped against the wall, hunched over and holding his side, and there was something feverish about his eyes. Yet as soon as he realized it was Piers he gave a shaky grin, even if that was all he managed.

why are the gorgeous ones always taken | 810w | Piers blinked his eyes open slowly, expression scrunched up, and it took a long moment before he managed to actually focus his gaze on Leon’s face. When he did, a smile immediately bloomed on his face, and he even tilted his head a little. “Have I died and gone to heaven?” he croaked out, his voice rough from lack of use.

still intact | 1,1k | It took a week before the level of painkillers was correct and Piers woke up with a gasp instead of a scream. And the first thing he asked was for someone to kill him.

of guns and ...guns | 270w | Leon likes the way Piers handles his rifle. There’s drool involved.

always fashionable | 540w | Apparently having a crush on the well-dressed, professional Leon translated into being absolutely fucking in love with the sleep-mussed and squinty Leon.

misplaced phones and revelations | 660w | Chris finds Piers’ phone. Which turns out to be Leon’s phone. The two turn out to be dating. Chris feels kind of blind.

yee-haw! | 1,0k | Leon rides Piers. Wearing a cowboy hat.

you’re cute when you’re angry | 620w | When he’s stressed, Piers washes the dishes. Angrily.  

want to drink (with) you | 1,1k | Piers is an embarrassing drunk. Leon loves him anyway. 

and each one of us is a path somewhere | 22,2k | Piers gets thrown twenty years back in time. Into Raccoon City, 1998. He’d heard about what Leon went through that night, but he never thought he’d have to actually experience it himself. Together with bright eyed rookie Leon.

hold me close | 560w | Leon falls asleep against Piers’ shoulder. 

goatee man | 890w | Piers thinks growing a beard might make him look more manly. 

promises kept | 2,9k | Leon finds out Piers isn't dead after all. He's just locked up in a BSAA research facility with no one allowed in to visit.

stay with me tonight (stay until the end of life) | 2,2k | Leon doesn’t know I’m contacting you, but a fair warning, because I’m worried. He was found unconscious on the bathroom floor at 10AM. They took him to the hospital, but he checked himself out. Look after him, okay?  

4am | 760w | “What can I say,” Piers grinned against Leon’s neck, “I was dreaming of you.” He had no reservations about moving his hips, letting Leon feel just how nice the dream had been.

caffeinated | 550w | Someone gives Piers coffee. Leon knows what to do with that excess energy.

and i'm you and you're me | 7,0k | The one wherein Leon and Piers accidentally swap bodies.

girls’ day in bed | 780w | Piers and Leon wake up one morning with boobs and other assorted lady parts. It’s a fun day. (Spoiler alert: they have a lot of sex.)

worlds apart | 3,2k | Krauser kidnaps Piers to lure Leon to him. (feat. past Krauser/Leon)

not again | 530w | Watching Piers’ mutation brings Leon some very unfortunate flashbacks. (feat. past Krauser/Leon)

gorgeous | 300w | Piers calls Leon gorgeous.

the most comfortable pillow | 350w | Leon falls asleep with his head on Piers’ lap.

beautiful | 840w | Even after losing an arm and ruining half of his face, Piers is the most beautiful thing to Leon.

as seen in adult films | 580w | Piers doesn’t know one damn thing about dishwashers. He volunteers to fix one anyway.

never letting go | 260w | Leon is goddamn comfortable right here. He isn’t going to move a single inch.

nose kisses | 390w | Piers is cute when he’s cranky. Just ask Leon.

no other half could ever make me whole | 6,3k | The one wherein they get a scare and there's a proposal.

the luxury of being held | 690w | The fabric of Piers’ hoodie is the perfect place to hide. (feat. Theo’s amazing art)

just one step from heaven, one step from paradise | 2,7k | The one wherein Piers makes sure Leon doesn’t freeze, and they enjoy their vacation.

all is fair in war, love and Mario Kart | 600w | Piers sucks at Mario Kart.

Chris/Leon

if i never see all my dreams come true, the one that mattered the most was you | 5,9k |  Chris enlists Leon’s help on a mission as a clever ruse to make the man take a break he so obviously needs. 

and I don't want to know how slow the time must flow | 11,1k | Chris and Leon try to fight their way out of a castle and feelings take over.

you are my heart, you are my home | 3,2k | Chris is sick, and he’s being extra dramatic about it.

from the gates of longing | 5,5k | Chris volunteers to take Leon home, but ends up getting a lot more than he bargained for.

how to accidentally get adopted - a guide by Piers Nivans | 2,3k | Piers accidentally keeps calling Chris dad, and Chris and Leon sort of unofficially adopt him.

right here by your side | 1,9k | When Chris shows up to check up on Leon, four days into his self-imposed flu-exile, at first Leon wants to just throw him out. But then it turns into a relationship-building moment and suddenly he can’t mind all that much.

about time | 1,8k | Leon is freezing. Chris warms him up.

yet you'll lose yourself in me | 3,3k | The one wherein Chris is generously proportioned and Leon kind of loves it. (whispers: size kink)

beyond tomorrow | 1,7k | Leon ends up in the hospital after a mission, Chris hurries to see if he’s okay. Claire is already there.

look at those heart-eyes | 180w | Quickly Chris shook his head, reluctantly pulling his attention away from Leon.

there’s a cat in the sink | 220w | “There’s a cat in the sink, and we don’t own a cat.”

from the future | 300w | It’s 1998 and Leon comes face to face with himself, from 2017.

surprise redfield | 250w | “Don’t worry,“ Chris says, nonchalantly as if it’s an everyday occurrence that he’s standing in Leon’s kitchen.

need this feeling to last (there's no denying) | 2,4k | “Why don’t you fuck me yourself, you coward!“

something solid, something good | 520w | Chris was so warm, and that together with all the glorious skin-on-skin contact made Leon happily sink back into the embrace.

come closer | 520w | Leon is done with Chris being so careful around him.  

your arms around me | 690w | Chris woke up cold and alone.  

a needed break | 440w | Sometimes Chris got so single-mindedly stuck on a task that he forgot everything around himself.

the iron maiden | 820w | Suddenly it was hard to breathe, like he couldn’t fill his lungs with oxygen no matter how much he tried, to the point that his vision started to get blurry. 

robin hood: chris in tights | 480w | Chris’ face was twisted into a theatrical grimace as he tugged a little on the green tights we was wearing. They were like painted on and although he didn’t really have body issues in general, he couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about it.

luckless romance | 4,0k | Leon and Chris turn a drunken argument into something better. (Please note: The link takes you to the last part of six.) 

take my hand | 920w | The worst part, by far, is not seeing anything. There are sounds, people talking like he isn’t even in the room, machines beeping and doors opening, quick busy steps against the floor.

let me take you to the edge of the stars and back again | 3,0k | Chris takes his sweet, sweet time before he gives Leon what he wants.

I’m going to seduce you | 1,1k | Jesus Christ, they’d had sex. Leon groaned again, this time less because of the headache and more because he felt so unbearably dumb. He’d probably had the best sex of his life, and he couldn’t remember it.

a little help | 430w | Those fucking idiots, Claire thought for the millionth time, as she watched her brother give the biggest dumbest heart eyes at Leon, who was blissfully oblivious about everything going on around him.

the way to anyone’s heart (the answer is food, good food)  | 2,4k | Chris asks Leon to teach him how to cook. (Spoiler: Leon doesn't know how.)

oh the horror | 270w | “I seriously don’t understand why you want to watch this shit,” Leon groaned, pressing his face into Chris’ chest.

jealousy | 670w | Chris swallowed hard, downed the last of his beer, and took the leap. “I’m jealous okay.”

twist me up | 510w | Sure Chris had always known that Leon was flexible. Sure he had seen him even do these weird-ass yoga poses more than once. There was nothing new to it.

meet the parents | 600w | Leon brings Chris home for Christmas.

precious cargo | 930w | Chris lugs Leon around like luggage.

it's always been you | 870w  | The hardest thing for Leon was when someone he cared about was in danger but there was nothing he could do about it. And then Chris fell into a ravine.

come away with me (to another world) | 2,0k | Leon finally gets a vacation.

first time sucker | 930w | “I don’t know, because it’s fun?” Leon said. “I promise you, you’re missing out.”

read my scars | 1,9k | Chris learns about Leon's scars.

battered and bruised | 650w | Ignoring the bruises and scrapes he had, Chris turned around and sprinted towards Leon, gritting his teeth against the strain moving put on his side.

a different kind of proposal | 500w | “If you keep fucking me this good,“ he breathed out, unsure if Chris even heard the words, “I’ll have to marry you.“

welcome home | 370w | The door had barely fallen shut behind Chris when Leon was in his personal space, grabbing him by the lapels of the trench coat he was wearing so he could pull him in close for a kiss.

I’d always choose you | 280w | Ada was something they didn’t talk about. When someone, anyone, brought her up Leon clammed up and changed the subject. And Chris had tried to be understanding, had tried to be patient, had tried his very best to respect Leon’s boundaries with this. But Chris was only human.

fuck or die | 1,7k | Chris gets hit by a weird plant, and his hard-on just will not go down. Until Leon takes matters into his hands.

i need a hug | 470w | “I think,“ Leon sighed, but then it was like all fight bled from him and he slumped a little forward. “I need a hug.“

oh no there’s only one bed | 990w | “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just one night. I’m sure you’ve slept with worse persons than me.”

the butt that became a pillow | 420w | Chris falls asleep on Leon.

like father like son | 2,8k | Leon finds out he has a son.

monster magnet | 1,1k | Leon didn’t know when it had become something he recognized so easily. When had it become so normal for mutated creatures to look at him with such unadulterated lust.

please be okay | 620w | Leon faints from sheer exhaustion. 

like father like... grandson? | 4,1k | Liam proposes to a girl but ends up with Piers anyway. Chris and Leon are the friendly neighborhood grandpas. Their grandson is adorable, and Leon thinks he takes after him. Obviously. (feat. Piers/OMC)

black lace | 790w | Chris gets to come home to Leon in thigh high black lacy stockings and matching lingerie, instantly sending Chris’ brains into an overdrive.

at least let me help | 790w | Leon opens the door an inch, Chris uses the given opportunity to slam it wide open. Metaphorically speaking.

bridal style | 200w | Leon refuses the medical check up. So Chris carries him.

dance with me | 1,0k | Wedding planning with two schmoopy idiots in love.

drunken cravings | 480w | Chris and Leon are drunk, hungry, and incapable of cooking.

blow me | 650w | Chris gets his brains sucked out through his dick.

Claire knows best | 610w | Chris tries to set Leon up with Claire. Then Claire does set Leon up with Chris.

chase the demons away | 940w | Chris struggles with nightmares, Leon is there to hold him through them.

dance me to the end of love | 550w | Leon struggles to learn to dance.

Piers/Leon, Chris/Leon

fate changed (we keep loving as if the story isn't over yet) | 34,3k | In hindsight, Leon knew the second he opened the door and saw Chris standing there, dressed in his service uniform, mouth pinched to a grim line and unable to meet Leon’s gaze straight. There was only one logical reason for it, only one way to explain why he was standing there like he would rather be anywhere else, and Leon almost slammed the door right in his face. --  Or the one wherein no one really knows how to handle their grief, but somehow life goes on anyway. (I’m still so proud of this one negl)

Chris/Leon/Krauser

hearts beating fast (let's make this moment last) | 5,7k | Chris gets invited in for a threesome. The clever thing would’ve been to refuse, knowing his unrequited, helpless feelings. But then again, he’s just a man.

OT3

double the fun | 3,1k | Truthfully, Leon hadn’t thought his day could get this much better. Everything had gone wrong from the second he’d woken up and he’d already written the day off entirely, until the moment Chris had looked him dead in the eye and asked “How do you feel about two at once?”

of cuddles and blanket forts | 620w | Piers and Leon build a blanket fort. Chris would think they’re idiots, but they might actually be kind of brilliant.

hair straightener or waffle iron? | 310w | Chris and Piers break Leon’s hair straightener.

the last piece of the puzzle | 2,7k | The one wherein two becomes three.

not alone | 2,3k | Completely on accident, Piers and Chris happen to be there to save Leon from a tight spot. Cuddles ensue.

Krauser/Leon

drive me crazy (your eyes made me crave for this) | 2,3k | It was the best sex Krauser had ever had in his life. That’s why he kept coming back to Leon, kept saying ‘yes’ every single time the man as much as hinted that he might be up for meeting. He was getting off, and he was enjoying every second of it, and that was the extent of it. There certainly weren’t any feelings involved. None. None at all. 

enjoying the view | 200w | Krauser likes ass-watching.

carry me to bed | 440w | Slowly Leon was coming back to his senses. Sweat was cooling on his skin, the hard surface of the table underneath him starting to feel uncomfortable.  

and I lied that we would be fine | 1,1k | Leon knows he isn’t supposed to be doing this. There’s a vague recollection of something more important, something he should be focusing on, but the vast majority of his world has narrowed down onto the slick slide of their bodies, on the cheap scratchy sheets on his skin, on the sound of Krauser’s voice in his ear, and he can’t bring himself to care.

yet never enough | 1,9k | Krauser likes mirrors.

of wanting | 400w | Leon’s laughter echoed in the room as Krauser pinned him against the wall, before shutting him up with a ravenous kiss.

better with you | 590w | Despite knowing Krauser had his back, Leon was genuinely surprised when the man sat down right next to him instead of telling him to suck it up and get moving.

breakfast | 530w | Lately things had slowly begun to shift. And Leon wasn’t sure yet what was going on. Or how he felt about it.

kill me now | 900w | It was more than clear how much Krauser enjoyed their frantic attempts to kill one another, and Leon’s traitorous body shivered in response, the memory of times long gone returning like no time had passed at all.

lust that I've already spilled | 1,4k | “C’mon, Leon,” Krauser taunted, grinning as widened his stance. “This cock isn’t gonna suck itself.”

will you just look at me | 650w | Krauser refuses to do feelings.

Wesker/Chris

I am the light that shall lead you to darkness | 1,8k | In all honesty, Chris wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up here: a panting mess, bent over a massive wooden table with Wesker holding him down laughably easily. 

the light to drown in darkness | 2,0k | Wesker craves Chris. So Wesker takes Chris.

love-hate-(obsession?) | 470w | Wesker is a lovesick fool. If he wasn’t also a homicidal maniac, Jill would almost feel sorry for him.

[clumsyclifford]

hello bella’s ask box it’s been a min damn.

so the vibes are fucking everywhere w the music in the lab today so i’ve mostly been ignoring it but then unforgettable by thomas rhett started playing and my brain was immediately like This Is a Fic Song

more importantly it is a Bella Fic Song

last time you not so subtly wanted me to prompt u w w thomas rhett song you told me to do that here so i am back again w another song from ur boy

okay i def snuck out just to send this so i gotta go now but this felt important laksdjdld

ok ily bye 💛

hi sam :)

so.................... i was stuck on what to write you for your birthday fic. you sent me this ask prompting me with a thomas rhett song that i had literally been meaning to write a fic based on for almost a full year. the puzzle pieces just aligned REALLY nicely on this one.

happy birthday, my love. there's gonna be a LOT more sappy shit in the ao3 notes, but please know that my life is irreversibly changed for the better because i met you. i am dangerous close to sounding like glinda from wicked and i really want you to get to READ this fic so please see ao3 for more schmaltz. i love you so much.

tw for alcohol

read here on ao3

-

Every life has a moment that imprints on memory like ink on a fresh page. The kind of moment that permanently alters the trajectory of that life, that marks the ending of one chapter and the beginning of another. Some people are lucky enough to have more than one. Some people’s minds are laden with crystallized memories. But there’s always at least one. One completely unforgettable moment.

For Jack, this moment happens twenty-four minutes after he enters the club.

Twenty-three minutes after he enters the club, Zack returns with his and Jack's second beers and says, "There's some guy at the bar who's totally your type."

"Yeah?" Jack cranes his neck, but he can't quite see the bar from where he is. "My type how? Not just 'lonely and drunk,' right? My standards have gotten higher, you know."

Zack hands Jack his beer. "He's cute and he's wearing a One Direction shirt, and I'm pretty sure he's drinking a margarita.”

"Oh shit," Jack says. "That checks all my boxes."

"I know it does," says Zack, winner of the Wingman Of The Decade award. He claps Jack on the shoulder. Jack sidesteps people until he gets eyes on the bar and scans for a cute guy in a One Direction shirt drinking a margarita.

Twenty-four minutes after Jack enters the bar, he sees Alex.

And everything changes forever.

*

"Woah," Jack says. His gut is feeling weird and it’s probably unrelated to the beer and a half under his belt.

"What?"

"The guy at the bar," Jack says, grabbing Zack's arm. "Zack. You grossly undersold my future husband to me."

"Your future husband?" Zack sounds amused, but Jack isn't kidding.

"Remember this moment," he says seriously, giving Zack a sloppy pat on the bicep before moving away from him, towards the bar, towards the cute guy with the One Direction shirt who's making Jack understand clairvoyance. "Remember this so you can tell the story at our wedding!"

"Your wedding," Zack repeats.

"Our fucking wedding!" Jack insists, more loudly as space and drunk people fill the growing gap between him and Zack. Zack just gives him a good-luck-and-godspeed wave.

Seconds later, Jack is at the bar.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

The cute guy in question looks up, surprised. Jack practically reels. It's a miracle people aren't flocking to this guy; he's not just cute, he's gorgeous. Bleach-blond hair — clearly from a bottle, which somehow Jack finds more attractive — flops over his forehead in a stubborn commitment to the emo fringe that died out a decade ago, and long lashes frame brown eyes that rival the glossy chestnut color of the bar. Add the five o'clock shadow and the sharply angled jaw and Jack's speechless.

Fortunately it's not his turn to speak. "I have a drink," says the guy, who is rapidly progressing from Cute Guy At Bar to Possible Soulmate At Bar. He quirks a smile. Jack's done for. "I'll buy you a drink, though."

Jack sets his partially-drunk beer on the bar top and slides it as far as he can reach. "Okay," he says.

Possible Soulmate laughs. He slides his margarita away from him, too, pushing it into the space of another person sitting down the bar. "Touché. Okay, you can buy me a drink."

"Well, hey, I don't want you to waste yours," Jack says reasonably. He retrieves his beer and then Possible Soulmate's drink. "I'll get the next one."

Possible Soulmate smiles. Jack is going to need his name eventually. "I appreciate your commitment to environmentally-friendly consumption of alcohol."

Jack blinks. "Yeah," he says. "That was a lot of big words, but sure. No problem. I'm Jack, by the way."

"Alex." Alex. Jack can see the wedding invites now.

"Nice to meet you," Jack says. "I like your shirt."

Alex glances down out of instinct as the wide collar of the shirt slips over his shoulder. "Thanks," he says with a chuckle, and looks up at Jack. "I like yours."

With great effort, Jack tears his gaze from Alex's shoulder and the hint of collarbone peeking out, but he would like it on the record that it is tremendously difficult. Fortunately he already knows what shirt he's wearing because he'd agonized over it for several minutes longer than Zack's patience ran, shortly before going out.

"Yeah, Kurt Cobain," he says, nodding with probably too much enthusiasm. "I'm a lead singer guy."

"Really?" Alex tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. "Meaning what?"

"I go for the lead singer types," Jack explains. "Kurt Cobain, Billie Joe Armstrong, you know." He nods at Alex's shirt. "Harry Styles."

"Harry Styles wasn't—" Alex breaks off and snorts. "Eh, whatever. Who cares."

"Wait," Jack says. "Hold the phone. Did you fucking cross out Zayn's face?"

Alex looks down at his shirt again like maybe he'll have forgotten what it looks like. "Oh, my friend did that. But now the shirt is factually accurate."

"If you wanted an accurate shirt you'd have to cross them all out since none of them are in the band anymore," Jack observes.

Alex slowly smiles. "I guess."

"I always liked Zayn," Jack says wistfully. "His solo shit is so good, though."

"It's good," Alex says, kind of in the tone of voice of someone who doesn't really agree but doesn't want to get into it, so Jack leaves it be. They can poll their wedding guests. "I'm really digging Niall's solo shit."

"That's an extremely acceptable answer," Jack says, nodding vigorously. In the moment it slips his mind that he's holding a beer and the liquid begins to slosh out of its container. "Oh shit, fuck, sorry."

"Didn't get me," Alex says, passing Jack a napkin. "Couple too many, I get it."

"What?" Jack is very focused on drying his hands so they don't get sticky and gross. "I'm not drunk."

Alex laughs. "Yeah, right."

"I'm not!"

"Okay," Alex says lightly, but it's clear he doesn't believe Jack. On the bright side, he doesn't seem bothered by it.

"I am acceptably drunk for a guy in his mid-twenties at a club,” Jack amends. "And you owe me a drink anyway."

"Hey, I intend to buy you that drink," Alex says earnestly. "Another beer?"

Jack shakes his head. "Vodka soda," he says. "It's a special occasion."

"Really! You celebrating something?"

"I am now," Jack says. "Celebrating meeting my future husband."

"Your future husband?"

"You," Jack says, in case it wasn't clear. "It's not every day you meet the man you're gonna marry. I think it calls for a celebratory vodka soda."

Alex stares, obviously expecting Jack to say sike! When Jack does no such thing, he gives a small, incredulous laugh.

"Fair enough," he says. He sounds like he's humoring Jack. That's okay. Jack is serious, but Alex will figure that out on his own time. "I guess you're not wrong. That doesn't happen every day."

A large shadow materializes on Alex's other side, blocking light like some very cliché movie villain. It's not Doc Ock, but it is some tall, burly guy, a leer affixed to his face that's probably been there since Alex's haircut went out of style.

"Hey, baby," he says in an unnervingly deep voice. The part of Jack that isn't super skeezed out is a little jealous. But Burly Guy isn't talking to Jack; Jack may as well be invisible. To Alex, Burly Guy says, "Saw you across the bar and I just had to come over."

Didn't have to, Jack thinks grumpily to himself. You could have stayed across the bar. If you walk away now we’ll pretend we never saw you.

"Can I get you a drink?" Burly Guy asks, and honestly, Jack has no idea what Alex is going to say.

Big Burly Guy with a deep voice a la Morgan Freeman vs. resident beanstalk Jack whose voice sounds like a rejected cartoon character design. What a tough choice.

Jack is just preparing to cut his losses when Alex grabs Jack's wrist, turns to him, and says, "Honey? What do you think?"

Jack's tipsy, but Alex is definitely communicating something with his eyes, and between that and the pet name Jack is pretty sure he's on the same page.

"You want to buy my boyfriend a drink?" Jack asks Big Burly Guy, cranking up the Bitchy energy because he doesn't get to do it a lot and it's kinda fun. His voice has definitely gone vaguely southern-auntie, but he's rolling with it. "Sorry, sugar, this seat's taken. Must be this guy" — he points at himself — "to ride."

"This guy?" Burly Guy echoes, furrowing his eyebrows at Jack and then looking at Alex with profound confusion, like he just doesn't get it. "You're with this guy?"

"Happily," Alex says, glancing back at Jack, who offers him what is definitely a convincingly enamored smile because Jack is legitimately enamored. Alex laces their fingers together and Jack's not delusional, can't be, not when they fit this well together. No way. "So I'm gonna pass on that drink. Sorry, man. No hard feelings."

Burly Guy seems to have some hard feelings. Maybe he didn't get the memo. "Whatever," he says gruffly. "Your loss."

Jack can't resist countering, "Actually it's your loss, sweetums," as Burly Guy retreats. If he dies tonight, he knows who’s responsible.

As soon as he's gone, Alex breaks down laughing, and Jack quickly follows suit. Alex's hand slips from Jack's and begins to tug at the ends of his own hair instead.

"Sugar?"

"I don't know what happened," Jack says/wheezes. "I became possessed by Blanche from Golden Girls.”

"You have to be" — Alex prods Jack's chest — "this guy to ride." He dissolves into giggles and Jack is laughing too but mostly because Alex's laugh is incredibly contagious.

"Look, I don't blame him," Jack says, feeling exhilarated. "You are the best-looking guy in this establishment. He just happened to have creepo vibes."

"I am not the best-looking guy in this establishment," Alex says, grinning at Jack. "Nice of you to say, though."

"Hey, I'm serious!"

"I thought you were Jack."

Jack stares at Alex and Alex doesn't even last a second before he's breaking down laughing yet again.

I'm going to marry you, Jack thinks, and it almost scares him how serious he is about that. He opens his mouth and says, "That wasn't even— that's not even one of the good dad jokes! That's the most boring one!"

"There is no such thing as a boring dad joke."

"You should go into stand-up," Jack says dryly. "You'd tear down the house with this set. I can see it now." He waves a grandiose hand in the air as if painting the marquee into existence, but when he goes to introduce the act he realizes he's missing most of the crucial information. "Alex…something…something. Austin, Texas, one night only."

"Gaskarth," Alex says. "That's my last name."

"Alex Something Gaskarth," Jack loyally amends, and gives Alex a look like, well?

Except Alex is giving Jack that same look. "I only know your first name and you expect me to tell you my full one?"

"Jack Bassam Barakat," Jack says, gesturing impatiently. "Come on, I'm trying to introduce your act here."

"Guess," Alex says.

"Guess?"

"It's a pretty basic middle name," Alex says. "I'll buy you your vodka soda when you guess it."

"Alex," Jack says. "I am not going to guess your middle name. I am so bad at these games and I'm fucking drunk."

"Quitter," Alex says. "Do you want your drink?"

Jack scowls, trying to channel Blanche again, but Alex is apparently immune.

"Give me a hint," he finally concedes.

"It's a British name," Alex says. “Pretty standard British.”

"Are you British?”

Alex nods. "Born and raised. Moved here when I was about…eight? But I'm not an American citizen. I have a green card."

Yet another reason they should be married. Jack could extend his citizenship to Alex. Plus he'd gain British citizenship, which would probably be useful for, like, travel or One Direction stalking or whatever.

"That's sick," Jack says. "I was born in Lebanon. We moved when I was a baby."

"That's so cool," Alex says, sounding genuinely interested. He props his chin on his hand and gives Jack a cheeky smile. "Now guess."

Jack sighs. "Uh, Charles."

"No."

"Darcy."

"Darcy?"

"Margaret."

"Jack."

"You said it's a British name!"

"A British man's name," Alex says, rolling his eyes in fond exasperation.

Jack takes a long pull from his beer, swallows, and says, "Harry."

"No."

They're going to be here awhile. Jack pulls out the seat next to Alex and settles in while he racks his brain for British names.

*

“Alfred.”

“Nope.”

“John.”

“No.”

“Paul.”

“No.”

“George.” Alex shakes his head. “Ringo.”

“Yup, you finally got it,” Alex says. Jack is over the moon for a split second before it sinks in that Alex is fucking with him. “Alex Ringo Gaskarth. Well done.”

“Fuck off, I’m doing my best here,” Jack says.

“You’re missing one incredibly obvious name,” Alex says. “It’s not that hard.”

“For you,” Jack says. “Because you already know it.” Alex is grinning. Jack likes that he’s enjoying himself. It makes this guessing game fun. Under any other circumstances, this guessing game would not be fun, but Alex makes it fun.

Alex has also finished his mango margarita by now, and Jack’s beer is long since empty. He’s itching for another drink, mainly for something to do with his hands.

As if reading his mind, Alex flags down the bartender, who sidles up with a small smile and says, “What can I get you boys?”

Jack blinks at her. Mostly at her accent, which is not American.

“Vodka soda,” Alex says. To Jack, “I think you’ve earned it.” Jack smiles.

“And a mango margarita,” he puts in to the bartender, “and are you British?”

The bartender looks amused. “I am British,” she says.

“Please help me,” Jack says. “Alex says his middle name is a British name and I cannot for the life of me figure out what it fucking is.”

“Jack, the nice bartender lady has other things to do,” Alex says with a laugh. The nice bartender lady probably does have other things to do, but she shifts her weight and gives Alex an appraising look instead.

“Harry?”

“Tried that,” Jack says, realizing at once that this is a pointless endeavor. The nice bartender lady is going to guess everything Jack’s already guessed and he’ll just have wasted her time. “I’ve tried every member of One Direction, every member of the Beatles, every member of Oasis, every Harry Potter character, every member of the Royal Family—”

At this, Alex coughs conspicuously.

Jack rounds on him. “I have.”

“Edward,” the bartender offers. Alex’s lips are pressed together in a smile and he shakes his head. “Meghan. Kate. Richard. Dick. Philip.”

A lightbulb goes off as the bartender is listing Royal Family names. Jack wants to kick himself. “Oh my— William?”

“Yeahhhh, there you go! See, it was easy,” Alex says, grinning widely.

“William,” the bartender repeats with a charming little laugh. Her lipstick is bright with clean lines, an impressive feat considering Jack has seen her bustling around this bar for almost an hour now. “I had an ex called William.”

“Oh no,” Alex says. “I hope he didn’t ruin the name for you.”

“Please,” the bartender says, waving him off. “The only thing he ruined for me was a few meters of drywall.” Jack and Alex must have twin looks of concern, because she explains, “Anger issues. No worries, boys, I sent him packing, and a vodka soda for you, and a mango marg for you.”

She slides their drinks into waiting hands and starts to turn away. “Wait a sec,” Jack says.

The bartender turns back to him with wide Bambi eyes. “Did I fuck up the drink? I’ve made it a million—”

“No no no,” Jack assures her. “I just wanted to know your name. You rescued me from an eternal guessing game, you’re my hero.”

The bartender smiles and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Maisie,” she says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, Maisie,” Alex says. “Thank you for the alcohol.”

Maisie laughs again as she moves to the other side of the bar.

“William,” Jack says, swirling his drink with the miniature straw. “God damn. I can’t believe I missed William.”

“You got close,” Alex says. “You guessed Liam twice. And thanks for the drink.”

“Same to you,” Jack says. “It’s a good drink. Yours, I mean. You know what offends me, though? Why aren’t mango margaritas orange?”

Alex furrows his brow. “Why the fuck would they be orange?”

“Mangos are orange! Fruity drinks should be the same color as their fruit.”

“Mangos are not fucking orange,” Alex says with an incredulous laugh. “They’re straight-up yellow.”

“They’re orange with yellow tendencies,” Jack says, “but mostly orange.”

“They are entirely yellow,” Alex says. “Coldplay even wrote a song about them. They were all yellow.”

“They’re orange,” Jack insists, but now Alex has moved on completely and is loudly singing Coldplay.

“I came along! I wrote a song foooor youuuuu! And all the things you do!”

“You’re ignoring the truth!”

“And it was called ‘Yellow’!” Alex shouts.

“Okay, I surrender! Sheesh. You win.”

“Thank you,” Alex says placidly, like he hasn’t just been yelling obnoxiously over the (worse, but much louder) club music. “I’m going to enjoy my yellow mango marg very much.”

“And I will enjoy my victory drink,” Jack says, lifting his glass. Alex lifts his. It smells like mango and tequila. They clink the rims together. “To William.”

“To William,” Alex agrees, laughing.

*

The DJ plays a song Jack loves to hate from hearing it on the radio so many times and Alex is out of his seat before Jack’s managed to put down his drink.

“What are—”

“I love this song, I want to dance,” Alex insists. The implication is clearly that he wants Jack to dance with him, which is like. What is Jack gonna do, say no?

Alex must anticipate some kind of argument, though, because with a glint in his eye he adds lightly, “These are the kinds of things you’ll have to do if we’re married.”

On the one hand, he’s clearly making fun. But on the other hand, the fact that Alex was a stranger an hour ago and is still comfortable teasing Jack about suggesting they’re going to get married speaks volumes. Alex is smiling. They’ve known each other for less than an hour — a drink and a half each — and Alex is smiling at his own joke about marrying Jack. Like he likes that Jack said it first. Like he likes Jack.

“Just wait ‘til you learn all the weird shit you’ll have to do when we’re married,” Jack says, sliding out of his stool.

Any sane person would have run away by now. Even Jack knows when he’s coming on too strong.

But Alex does the opposite; Alex grabs his wrist and pulls him towards the dance floor.

“Fair warning,” Alex says. “I don’t actually know how to dance.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Jack says, and then eats his words not two seconds later when Alex demonstrates how very much he doesn’t know how to dance. All of his limbs seem to move as their own entities, zero synchronization. A couple surrounding people take various minor assaults before taking the hint and giving Alex some space, but this does not stop him. “Okay,” Jack says loudly over the music. “You were right. But luckily neither do I.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Alex says.

Jack does the sprinkler. Alex snorts. He does the wave, very poorly, and Alex continues it, also very poorly.

“Mr. Moves,” Alex says. “I’m impressed.”

“Yeah? Check this one out.” Jack does the running man with extreme focus. Alex laughs, leaning towards Jack as he does. Jack stops dancing so he doesn’t accidentally hit Alex, who is suddenly much closer and who somehow smells like pine and flannel and fall and winter in one and is the best-looking person in blue jeans and checkered Vans on this dance floor. Far from the only person, but without question the prettiest.

Fuck.

“I don’t think I can do that one,” says Alex, grinning. Jack nods at him like, try it, so Alex does, proving himself right. He almost takes Jack’s eye out.

“Yeesh, okay, you’re— alright, take it easy,” Jack says, swatting Alex’s wayward hand away and laughing. “Well, we all have our strengths.”

Surrendering the running man, Alex starts up with some bizarre hand-wavey foot-kicky thing, singing along to the music.

“Do you seriously like this song?” Jack asks, attempting to imitate Alex’s dance. “Dance,” heavy quote marks implied.

Alex shoots Jack a look. “Hell yeah. What, you don’t?”

“It’s just…always on,” Jack says. “Everywhere. How are you not sick of it?”

“Because it fuckin’ slaps!” Alex looks incensed.

“I don’t know why I’m surprised you’re a pop music person when you’re literally in a One Direction shirt.”

“I’m a lots of music person,” Alex counters. “Including pop music, yeah. You don’t like pop music?”

“I sometimes do,” Jack says. “I like Taylor Swift. Britney Spears.”

“Okay, well, you’d have to be insane not to like them.”

“Yeah, and I’m obviously sane.”

Alex barks a laugh. “Drunk but sane.”

“I am not drunk!” That’s probably a lie by now.

“You’re not convincing me otherwise,” Alex says. “I’m confident you’ve been drunk this whole time.”

“You haven’t exactly been an innocent bystander,” Jack says. “You bought me a drink, and you’re gonna buy us shots in a minute.”

“I did— I what?”

“Yeah,” Jack says, and this time he drags Alex off the dance floor, back to the bar. “I can see the future, I forgot to tell you.”

“You—” Alex laughs again and leans on the bar, trapping both his elbows between his stomach and the bartop. “You’re buying the next round.”

“Oh, happily,” Jack says. “I’m actively trying to get you drunk.”

“Why’s that?”

“Studies show I am 75% more attractive to people when they’re drunk,” says Jack.

Alex turns to him. Without missing a beat, he says smoothly, “I don’t think it’s possible for you to get any more attractive.”

Fuck. Actually, fuck. Seriously. Fuck.

“You must be drunk already, then,” Jack says.

Alex smiles serenely. “I feel pretty sober.”

“Exactly what a drunk person would say,” Jack says. “J’accuse, William.”

Alex laughs. “In that case, your studies are right.”

Jack’s probably blushing. He does that in extreme cases only, but this is nothing if not an extreme case. Alex is fucking relentless.

Maisie the bartender is back, and Alex orders them shots of tequila. Somewhere in the recesses of Jack’s mind, this unlocks a memory, and he snaps his fingers. “I should hunt down my friend, he loves tequila.”

“Friend?” Alex looks around while Maisie pours their shots. “You ditched your friend?”

“He told me to,” Jack says. “He’s probably gonna pick up some girl. Actually, he probably already has.”

“Really,” Alex says, sounding amused.

“Zack’s a strong silent type,” Jack explains. “Emphasis on strong. We’re single guys in our mid-twenties, Alex. We’re not going to clubs for the atmosphere.”

“Admit it,” Alex says. “You a little bit are.”

Jack bites his lip. “Fine, I like the atmosphere,” he admits, more affected than he should be that Alex seems to have picked up on this about him. “And the alcohol. And the chances I’ll meet my future husband, which clearly paid off. Zack will never admit it, but I’m pretty sure he likes trying to set me up with random people in clubs.”

Alex laughs. “He set you up with me?”

“Oh yeah,” Jack says. “He wingmanned me hard. You can thank him in your vows.”

This only serves to make Alex laugh harder. “I’ll thank him now,” he says with a grin. Taking his cue, Jack grabs his shot glass. Alex does the same. “To Zack.”

“To Zack!” Jack cheers, and they both down their shots.

“Me?”

Jack whirls around and trips straight into Zack. “Zack!” he says brightly. “We toasted you.”

“I heard,” Zack says. “Why, exactly?”

“I’m Alex,” says Alex, holding out a hand. Zack shakes it. “Apparently you set us up?”

“Oh,” Zack says. “I wouldn’t really say that. I just kind of pointed Jack in this direction. If you can put up with him, that’s all you.”

“I was gonna come find you anyway,” Jack says. “We’re doing tequila shots. Next round on me.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Zack says. “Count me in.”

They can’t come up with a toast for their second round so they just knock it back with an ambiguous cheer; then Zack offers to buy another, and Jack’s not about to refuse. It’s starting to hit just right, so he’s buzzed but not incoherent. All his most brilliant ideas come in this state.

Case in point: as Maisie is pouring them their third round, Jack suddenly says, “Maisie! Do a shot with us!”

Maisie looks up and laughs. “I’m not supposed to drink on the job,” she says.

“It’s not drinking, it’s bonding,” Jack insists.

“Yeah, we’re forming lasting friendships,” Alex jumps in.

Zack looks entertained. “You guys know each other?”

“As of half an hour ago, yes,” Maisie says.

“Maisie here helped me guess Alex’s middle name,” Jack explains. “Which is William. Like the prince.”

“I feel like I missed so much,” Zack says, half to himself. He shrugs and nods at Maisie. “One shot. On me. For Jack. We won’t tell.”

Maybe it’s because Zack is buff and has cool tattoos or just has good vibes or whatever, but Maisie hesitates only a second before inclining her head. “Just one, and no blabbing,” she says, meeting all of their eyes in turn. Everyone nods solemnly, and Maisie discreetly pours herself a fourth shot.

“Hell yes!” Jack whoops as they all take a shot glass. “To Maisie!”

“To Maisie!” Everyone echoes, including Maisie with a wry grin.

The third shot goes down smoother than the first two. Jack swallows his easily, as does Alex. Maisie puckers her face a bit. Zack has zero reaction, because Zack’s just kinda like that.

“While I’m here, I was hoping to get another beer,” Zack says.

“On it,” Maisie says immediately, giggling. “Thanks for the shot, boys. You’ve kept me far more entertained tonight than my usual shift provides.”

“You can give a toast at our wedding,” Jack says to her. Zack’s eyes widen a little, Alex snorts, and Maisie laughs.

“I’d be honored,” she says. “Back to work now. You need anything, let me know.”

“Seriously, Jack?”

“What?” Jack gives Zack an innocent smile. He pats Zack on the cheek. “Don’t worry, sugar, you can give a toast too.”

Alex laughs. Zack stares at him and shakes his head. “You’re insane,” he says, but he says that roughly twice a day so he’s still below his quota. “I’ll leave you two alone. Come find me when you wanna go. If…” He eyes Alex. “...Just…yeah.”

And with these eloquent words, he disappears with his beer into the crowd.

“I like him,” Alex announces.

“Me too,” Jack says. He turns back to Alex. “Back to the dance floor?”

“Get out of my brain,” Alex says. “I’d like to see your drunken running man.”

“It is gonna blow your fucking mind,” Jack promises, and Alex laughs again.

*

They’re not even being gross like everyone else. Alex has pulled Jack into an exaggerated tango performed mostly with missteps when it happens: someone shoves them aside as they walk past, and Alex loses his balance and falls into Jack, who just barely manages to catch them both. He doesn’t manage to stop his arm from winding around Alex’s waist. To be fair, he doesn’t try very hard.

Jack’s first thought is homophobe, but then he spots the offender, lumbering off with heavy footfalls, and it’s Burly Guy from earlier. The guy who tried and failed to pick Alex up.

All of this registers as Alex slowly regains his footing. “Damn, who pissed in that dude’s Cheerios?”

“It’s the guy from before who tried to buy you a drink,” Jack says, pointing at his back.

Alex whips his head around. “Seriously? Asshole.”

Jack chooses not to observe that from his vantage point, being shoved close together is hardly a dick move. In intent, sure, but not in actuality; Jack’s enjoying the proximity a great deal. Like, a lot.

Like, his hand is still on Alex’s hip, subtly keeping Alex close, and Alex has his arm around Jack’s shoulders from their dance and he’s not moving, either.

“Yeah,” Jack says. They’d already been on the outskirts and now they’re off to the side of everyone, wallflowers.

Alex breathes a laugh and looks back at Jack. He doesn’t step back or even lean away, even though their faces are too close to be friendly now. Jack hadn’t really been expecting friendly, but they’ve been tightrope-walking between sides, and if neither of them breaks this up then they’ll be irreversibly left on one end.

Jack has no intention of moving away. He likes this end of the tightrope. For all he cares, they could cut the tightrope and free-fall together.

“You’re pretty good at bad tango-ing,” Alex says, reaching up to brush away the sweaty fringe that’s clinging to his forehead.

Jack grins. “Well, you know what they say. It takes two.”

Alex kisses him so suddenly that Jack almost loses his balance.

*

He tastes like tequila. That’s all Jack gets before they’re not kissing anymore. The room feels quiet and then unforgivably loud the next second, and Alex is flushed and smiling nervously, and Jack is smiling too, not nervous at all.

“Did I tell you I’m in a band?” Alex asks in a rush.

Jack’s brain struggles to keep up. He can’t remember Alex mentioning a band, but he’s also distracted by wanting to kiss Alex again. There’s no understating the power of wanting to kiss someone over failing to clock anything they say. “What?”

“I’m in a band,” Alex says. “Not as a job, just like, for fun.”

“Oh,” says Jack.

“I’m the lead singer,” Alex says, with a flickering look down at Jack’s shirt.

“Oh,” says Jack, because, like, oh. “Can I kiss you again?”

“What, here?” Alex meets his eyes. “With all these people around?”

“You kissed me first,” Jack says. “Let me kiss you and then we can call it even.”

“Okay,” Alex says, and Jack’s kissing him before the word’s really out of his mouth.

And he tastes like tequila and mango and sugar and the color yellow and the sweat of the dance floor and God, it’s good. It’s like kissing a memory, except this memory is still here, not frozen in time, not trapped in an ornate frame. He’s creating a memory that he knows he’ll relive for the rest of his life.

Somehow, though he doesn’t know the end of this chapter, he knows the end of the book.

Alex’s warm palm cradling Jack’s cheek to hold him steady, fingers splayed out like a star; Alex’s other hand grazing skin over the collar of Jack’s shirt. Alex singing Coldplay in Jack’s ear. Alex’s blue jeans and his checkered Vans and his ridiculous One Direction tank top. Alex holding Jack’s hand and calling him honey to get Burly Guy to leave him alone. Grinning as he shoots down guess after guess for the elusive middle name. Laughing at Jack’s stupid dance moves. Knocking back a shot like it’s nothing. Smiling when Jack says they’re going to get married, never moving away, only ever closer.

Alex sitting undisturbed at the bar, ankles crossed, and Jack seeing him from across the room like something out of a goddamn Hallmark movie and just knowing.

He tugs Alex closer but Alex is already pulling away with a smile. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Yeah,” Jack says. He smoothes a hand over a crease in Alex’s shirt and nods. “Taxi’s on me if we go back to your place.”

“Sucker, I was gonna suggest that anyway,” Alex says with a quiet laugh. “You should tell Zack. Don’t wanna just leave him.”

“Don’t worry,” Jack says. “He knows.”

“He knows?”

“Zack and I are brothers in clairvoyance,” Jack says. “How many times do I have to tell you this?”

“I knew you could see the future,” Alex says. “You never told me Zack could, too.”

“Zack can see everyone’s future,” says Jack. “I can only see mine.”

“Yeah? What’s your future look like now?”

Jack filters out several inappropriate comments. It’s hard when Alex is smirking, clearly baiting him. “I told you,” he says. “You, me, vows, rings, the works.”

“Not that future,” Alex says. “I’m talking about the immediate one.”

It takes everything in Jack not to get down on one knee and say so was I. There’s a tilt in Alex’s head, like a dog listening carefully for a familiar sound.

“Honestly?” Jack says, and Alex nods. “I think it’s more fun if we find out together.”

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Eighty Six

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

March 4th, 2003

Emile looked at the ring the jeweller had brought out for him to inspect. It was a little understated, just a silver band, no diamonds or other gems or even a stone put in. “Are you sure this is the one you want?” the jeweller asked. “I know you have the money, Mister Thomas, and most girls, even if they don’t say anything, prefer something they can show off to their friends...”

“It’s perfect,” Emile said, nodding at the jeweller. “Don’t worry. I know my future fiancé, he’ll love it.”

“Of course, I didn’t mean to imply...”

“Don’t worry about it,” Emile said with a kind smile. “My guy’s just that sort of special. Ring this up and we’ll be good to go.”

  May 5th, 2003

Emile was absolutely certain that if Remy weren’t so stressed, he would propose right here and now, just to try and capture the perfect smile on Remy’s face for the entire rest of the day. Remy had opened the doors of Sleep Easy that morning to find a line that was wrapping around the block and the relieved grin he had on his face as he told everyone working there to get ready was something Emile would never forget.

Toby had taken a couple pictures before Remy went back behind the counter to help out, and Emile felt at the ring box in his pocket. He wanted to ask regardless of stress, but he needed to find a quiet moment.

Emile and Toby were currently sitting in the back of the shop, at one of the tables. Emile was fiddling with his hands and glancing at Remy periodically. Toby sighed and propped his head up on one of his hands. “Okay, Emile, spill the beans. What’s got you so worked up?”

Glancing at Toby before going back to look at Remy, Emile shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he said absentmindedly.

“Either you tell me what’s up or I call Remy over here,” Toby threatened. “Because you’re looking at him like he has a bomb strapped to his chest.”

Emile tore his eyes away from Remy long enough to check if Toby was serious. And he was. “You have to promise not to tell Remy,” Emile said.

Toby gave him a look. “You don’t have a ring box, do you?” he joked.

Emile sighed and pulled out the small box from his pocket, placing it on the table. “Wait, no, I was joking!” Toby exclaimed in a hushed whisper. “Oh my god, you seriously have a ring?! Are you planning on asking him today?”

“Potentially, if there’s a quiet moment,” Emile said. “But I’m starting to suspect there won’t be.”

“Yeah, no, people just keep coming,” Toby said, eyeing the front door. “If I were you, I’d wait for a moment where Remy isn’t serving customers,” he said. “Maybe propose tonight, after the shop closes, if you do it today.”

Emile glanced over at Remy, who was talking to a woman intently over a display of cookies. “Seriously?!” Remy exclaimed, loud enough to capture both Emile’s and Toby’s attention.

The woman laughed and nodded. She passed him a card which Remy eagerly pocketed and shook the woman’s hand. Emile and Toby glanced at each other. “What was that about?” Toby asked.

“I have absolutely no idea,” Emile said.

Remy came over to the two of them, and Emile quickly hid the ring box back in his pocket. Remy, with a massive grin, slammed his hands on the table. “Do you guys know who that was?!” he exclaimed.

“No?” Toby said. “Enlighten us?”

“She’s a reporter for the local paper,” Remy said in an almost-conspiratorial whisper. “And all the commotion from today caught her eye. She said that if I can keep interest for the rest of the month, she’ll do an exposé on the shop!”

Emile blinked, before breaking into a grin. “That’s amazing, Rem! I’m so proud of you!”

Remy beamed.

“Emile took the words right out of my mouth,” Toby said. “I have no doubt that article will happen. Who knows, maybe it’ll lead to more business and happier roads ahead!”

Toby glanced at Emile and Emile instantly got the meaning: save the proposal for the interview. And Emile couldn’t agree more with that sentiment. That would be the perfect timing, if there was one.

“Oh my god, if they ask me anything about my personal life, what do I say?” Remy asked, laughing. “I mean, I don’t think I should hide that I’m gay, but like...I pay a mortgage with Emile. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that we’re together.”

“I think you should be honest, Rem,” Emile said. “I mean, anyone who’d boycott the shop because of you being gay isn’t someone I’d want in my corner anyway.”

“True,” Remy hummed. “Okay. I’ll be honest. The shop shouldn’t go under because of it, most of the people here are open-minded. It’s a college town, after all.”

“It’s a college town, you’re an amazing person, and you make a mean cuppa joe,” Toby said, sipping at his coffee with a grin. “There’s no way you could scare off all the homophobes into ruining business for you.”

Remy nodded, smiling. “Thanks for being here, both of you,” he said. “It means the world to me.”

“Nowhere we’d rather be, Rem,” Toby said, and Emile agreed.

“Remy! We need you back here!” August called.

“That’s my cue,” Remy laughed, hugging Toby and kissing Emile’s cheek. “Talk to the two of you later.”

“Later,” Emile parrotted as Remy went back to the counter. “I’m definitely proposing during the interview,” he told Toby.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Remy tried the same thing. He’s that extra,” Toby laughed.

“You know, you’re right, and I hate that you’re right,” Emile laughed. “We’ll wind up proposing at the same time, most likely.”

“He’s planning his own proposal?” Toby asked. “You guys didn’t agree that one of you would do it and leave it at that?”

“We made it a competition,” Emile laughed. “Loser has to kiss the winner.”

“How do you know who loses and who wins?” Toby asked.

Emile paused. “You know, I’m not sure we ever clarified how one of us would win when both of us are very clearly biased,” he admitted.

Toby laughed. “Oh, god. You two are both disasters. Like, I love you, of course, but you’re both disasters.”’

“Of course we are. To quote Remy, ‘If we weren’t such disasters we would have overthrown God long ago.’”

Toby cracked up. “Man, as a guy who’s still religious I’m inclined to agree with you. The two of you are unstoppable.”

“Throw in all the other gay disasters we know and it would be no contest,” Emile snickered. “God, Theo would love to overthrow a major religion like that. I’m pretty sure Clara would fret over us and make sure to bring victory snacks, Xavier would welcome our new gay overlords...it would be quite the sight.”

“Let me know when it happens, because I very much want in on the being a priest to you guys,” Toby laughed.

Emile snickered. “Oh, we’re both going to Hell.”

“No doubt,” Toby agreed.

They looked over to where Remy was working, and Emile sighed. “I do worry about him, though. He works hard, but there are days where I know he’d rather relax but can’t.”

“A tip that helped me in the old days with that: warm chocolate milk,” Toby said. “Don’t know how well it’ll work for you, but it always conked him out as a child. Now, it might not make him sleep, but it would at least be a bit of nostalgia.”

“That’s adorable,” Emile said, grinning.

“There were times where he wouldn’t even accept it from Mom or Dad because ‘Toby makes it the bestest,’” Toby said with a grin. “I love my little brother to the ends of the earth, but I suspect he loves me more.”

“He finds people who love him and he never lets them go,” Emile said with a sad smile. “I wish the reason he did that wasn’t there, but then again, without everything he went through, he wouldn’t be the man he is today.”

Toby furrowed his brows and Emile winced. “Uh, he doesn’t let go of people who love him because he’s worried that if he does they’ll just leave him when they get bored. So he works to make sure they’re never bored of him.”

“Oh,” Toby said. It was strangled, and there was so much shock and anger in that one syllable. “I would strangle our parents if I could get away with it.”

“Make sure they don’t have any more kids and we’ll call it a day,” Emile laughed awkwardly.

“God, I hope they don’t screw up as grandparents,” Toby breathed. “Like. I don’t intend on being a dad. But Vanessa...wants kids. She’s wanted kids since she was a kid. And if they ever have to stay at their grandparents’...well, I’d rather take them for a night than leave them there.”

“Frankly? I don’t blame you,” Emile said.

“You’ve met them, haven’t you?” Toby asked.

“I’ve met your mother, and frankly, I don’t even need to meet your father to understand the bulk of Remy’s trauma, and yours,” Emile said simply.

“M... my trauma?” Toby asked.

“They hurt you too, Toby,” Emile said. “That qualifies as trauma.”

“Oh,” Toby said, leaning back in his seat. “It’s different when it’s someone else. Like, yeah, Remy got really hurt by them, so I don’t blame him for using the term. But knowing that the term applies to me is...different.”

“It’s more personal,” Emile filled in. “And it’s scary. But it’s something that can definitely be worked on.”

“At least there’s hope,” Toby said with a weak smile.

“Exactly,” Emile said, pointing at Toby with a grin. “And if you ever need any recommendations for looking for a therapist, hit me up. I’ll see what I can do.”

“I might have to take you up on that,” Toby said with a shaky breath. “The holidays are a massive...what did you call it? A massive stressor. But I could probably find a use for one outside the holidays, too.”

Emile nodded. “At least you recognize it. Remy’s been really stressed lately but seems determined to stick it out on his own. I worry about him more because of that.”

Toby shrugged. “Sometimes he needs time to come around to a concept. Give him that time, and if you ever need help, drop me a line. I know how to talk to him too.”

“Do you ever use rationality on him, and does he get that grumpy almost-pout when you do it?” Emile asked with a knowing grin.

“Oh my god, yes!” Toby laughed. “And then he comes up with worst-case scenarios that both of you know wouldn’t happen, just out of stubborn spite at the fact you’re using logic?”

“And forces you to come up with a plan for what happens if you fall into a pit of invisible snakes!” Emile continued. “Oh yeah, we’ve had those talks.”

“God, I love him,” Toby said, shaking his head fondly. “Of course, to you, that scenario probably just indicates how much of an anxiety disorder he has.”

“I try not to diagnose people I know,” Emile said. “Not only because I don’t have my degree yet, but because my emotions can get in the way of a diagnosis if I get too close.”

“That’s smart,” Toby said.

“That’s therapists’ standards,” Emile said simply.

The two of them sat in companionable silence for a minute, before Toby spoke again. “I really worry about him, all jokes aside. Like, we can go for months without talking and pick up where we left off, but...those months in between when he doesn’t talk to me...they can get scary.”

“I know what you mean,” Emile sighed. “There are nights where I wake up with cold sweats from nightmares that Remy never dropped out of college and I went to his room one day to see that he’d hung himself. Fortunately, I wake up next to him to know he’s alive. I know you don’t have that luxury.”

Toby shook his head. “That’s when I usually call first thing the next morning...on the bad days. I can never get back to sleep but I wait until it’s seven before I call because I know you guys have sleep to catch up on. You don’t need to listen to my crazed, nightmare-induced ramblings.”

“I’d listen,” Emile said.

“Really?” Toby asked skeptically.

“Of course,” Emile said, turning to look at Remy, serving coffee with the biggest grin on his face as the customer complimented the store. “That’s what family does for each other.”

[sheerbeautyreigns]

DESIRE

Part 9

“Right man, I’m gonna shoot.” Colby pulled Joe into a hug in the hotel lobby. “Call me if you need anything and I’ll see you this weekend.”

“Thanks man, I appreciate it,” Joe said sincerely watching as his friend exited the building.

“That who you stayed with last night?” came a familiar voice from behind him. Joe jumped and turned around. It was Paul. He was dressed for business, as always, this time wearing a navy suit and white dress shirt. “Y-you scared me-”

“Glad you’re alive. Was worried you had done something stupid after last night.” He taunted, now closer to him.

“Look, I don’t want to talk about this here, now.” Joe spat. “Feisty.” Paul was surprised. He knew what Joe meant though. They couldn’t be seen having an argument like this in public. “I don”t check out until 11. Let’s go to my suite.” Barely a word was spoken until they got to the room. Joe set his bags by the door. He wasn’t planning on staying long. They both took a seat on the sofa.

“So, why didn’t you answer my messages, my calls?” Paul asked clasping his hands together between his spread legs. “My battery had died, I only charged my phone up this morning.” Joe explained, looking at him. “You had me really worried you know. I thought you had done something stupid considering the state you were in-”

“Look, don’t remind me about that. Please.” Joe said seriously, looking into his hazel eyes, fed up. He didn’t like when Paul talked down to him. Sure, he was 16 years his senior, but still. He was a grown man. “I want to apologise for hurting you last night. It was not my intention, believe me.” He started. “I have my needs but you also have yours and I respect that.” Paul apologising? Joe couldn’t quite believe it. He was never one to apologise.

“OK. Apology accepted.” Joe licked his lips, not really sure what to say. Paul edged a little closer. The young man didn’t move. “I don”t want to stop seeing you baby.” Paul settled his hand on Joe’s knee.

“I don’t want you to have to compromise what you want because of me.” Joe started. “You’re right, there are ways we can work around it. It’s not as bad as you think.”

“H-how do you mean?” Joe asked, narrowing his eyes. “Have you ever gotten your mind into a place where you just had to see something through? No matter what obstacles, whatever pain you deal with, you would put yourself in that mindset and just let yourself go?”

“What, like in a match where I take a few bigger bumps than normal?” Joe asked. “Yeah like that. Everyone does it, think of it like that. You just need to let go, give yourself up. Let me take control and I’ll take care of you in the best possible way. I’ll make you come harder than you ever have before baby. If it gets too much, you can use a couple of safe words.” Paul suggested. “Like what?” Joe asked shifting in his seat a little.

“I normally go by Amber if you want to slow things down a little and Red to completely stop.” Paul waited for Joe to respond. “So you would be in control?”

“I would.” He nodded “I’ve noticed that you are naturally submissive when you’re with me.” Paul offered a smile. “It’s a real turn on, you have no idea. There are ways to hurt you, but pleasurable ways.” He could sense a feeling of uneasiness in Joe’s demeanor. “I’ve had a couple of partners like you in the past, who weren’t too sure when I brought this exact scenario up to them but they grew to like it in no time. I didn’t want them like I want you though baby,” Paul said cupping Joe’s face in his hands, looking into his brown eyes. “Will you at least try for me? For us?” Joe pursed his lips. He wasn’t quite sure what he was getting himself into but he was willing to try. He did agree that he had submissive tenancies when it came to Paul. He could never say no to him. “OK, “ he nodded. Paul’s eyes lit up “OK?”

“Yes, I’ll try,” before he could say anything else, Paul pulled him into a passionate kiss, lowering him to the sofa.

[argumentl]

The Freedom of Expression Ep 3 - Michelin Star related suicide.

K: Hi, this is Dir en grey's Kaoru, getting started with the third episode of The Freedom of Expression.

J, T: Yep.

K: Joe Yokomizu san and Tasai san are here again. So, how are we doing, after the second time?

Kami:*interrupts*

J: Ah, He's cutting in early today.

Kami: Yes, yes, yes. Im thinking a lot about my timing.

J: You're entering from every possible angle?

Kami: Yes, thats it.

K: What do you think after the first two episodes? We are on our third today, but does it seem interesting?

K: As a god, im kinda out of things to say.

J: Really?

Kami: Yep

J: You would think a god would know about all sorts of things.

Kami: I don't know all that much. *K laughs* Im studying, Im working on it.

T: Last time, the suspicion arose that he was poverty stricken, didnt it?

J: Yes, he pointed out he was a poverty stricken god.

Kami: I told you not to say that! *K laughs*

T: Sorry..

Kami: Its a problem.

K: After we finished last time, we ended up talking a lot about money, didn't we?

J: Yes, we did. *everyone laughing*

Kami: Yep, yep.

J: After the recording, Kami spoke non stop about money, didn't he? He is really attached to it..for a god. You'd think he'd be the one least interested in that, but he turns out to be the one most interested.

Kami: It wasn't that bad until then. It wasn't like that back on the radio show. It really has become a problem recently.

J: Oh now?

T: I see.

Kami: Yes, now.

K: Right, well, our third episode...

J: Yes, the title is 'Suicide resulting from Michelin stars - In the lawsuit of a former 3 star Michelin star chef, the court rules that....'

This is concerning the Michelin guide which was even popularised in a TV drama last year. In its country of origin, France, there is so much pressure, the fear of losing a star can even lead to suicide. A Chef who lost his third star even filed a lawsuit against Michelin. As for the specific story, Marc Veyrat, who runs the famous restaurant 'La Maison des Bois' in the Alps, recieved the long awaited 3 star rating in 2018. Just one year later, this dropped to a 2 star rating. Veyrat responded angrily, 'The quality of my food hasn't changed at all. Its a mistake in the inspection', and brought the case against Michelin. As well as demading the inspector's qualifications and the report to be made public, as his demotion has led to him to  falling into a state of depression, he is suing Michelin for the sum of just 1 Euro, or in yen, 120 yen. He has been telling the media of his discontent that the inspectors could not recognize the cheese Reblochon, from the Savoy region, and probably mistook it for the widely produced cheddar cheese. Nanterre courthouse in the suburbs of Paris responded, that as well as the evaluation of the inspector coming down to freedom of expression, the plaintiff did not show good enough reason that  his reputation had been marred. The famous chef was defeated, but the agony of chefs over the star rating is becoming a problem in society. By the way, simply put, the standard for the inspection, or the standard for the stars, is the food only. Not the restaurant interior, or the service. The food is assessed on the following five criteria. 1) The quality of the ingrediants. 2) The level of skill and amount of seasoning. 3) Originality. 4) Cost performance. 5) The consistency of the presented dishes on the whole. This is the same all over the world. As for the meaning of the stars, this is as follows. One star = Food that is particularly delicious within its category. Two stars = Spectacular food that is worth making a detour to have it. Three stars = Excellent food that is worth specifically traveling just to have it. The report is produced by a group consisting of the inspectors, the chief editor and all other responsible parties for the Michelin guide book. Every year they recieved around 45,000 emails and letters from thier readers, which they look through, and sometimes even do re-evaluations. ....Food!

K: Food...

J: Yep...I mean, reputation really controls which restaurants we go to.  Kaoru, what do you think?

K: Hmm, well, its an inspection isnt it?

J: Yes, its an inspection.

K: I was in Paris last year. There are loads of these aren't there? * the others laugh*

J: Well, yes. So, he didn't change anything about his food, but his rating still dropped, whats that all about?

K: Isn't it precisely because he didn't do anything new?

J: Oh, could it be that? If others are upping thier game, you will naturally drop.

K: There couldn't really be someone who mistook it for mass produced cheddar cheese.

J: You'd think, wouldn't you?

K: And then, maybe people are just different, no matter what it is. Even if its the same person..

J: Maybe they were feeling bad or something..

K: Hmm, an inspection is...Well, if it was sports or combat sport or something..the observers can easily judge the game, like..oh this one definitely won...But with music, or movies....appraisals of 'things', its different depending on the person isnt it.

J: Yes, you're right.

K: This type of guide is for people who want to expand thier knowledge, the Michelin guide ...For movies it would be the Academy Awards, and there are tv shows doing the same thing.  Its just to make things easier for people...so, in the end, it seems like it can't be helped really.

J: Well, thats it, yes. I dont know about Michelin, but Im in the position to do album reviews, so im in the place to award stars...and, its true, if its a genre you like, you just naturally like it, and are prone to jacking up the stars, but if its a genre you don't listen to, you feel unfamiliar and it takes a while to figure out whether its good or bad. So certainly, as for awarding stars.. asking people, well, im just repeating what you said Kaoru, its not objective information. You have to try and think about the aim. If the orgainisation drops a star from you it doesn't necessarily mean you are bad..

K: Its like a contest or that type of thing, you can still see who's winning the game..

J: Like 1-1, you can see whos winning in front of you, the circumstances are a little different from this though.

K: Eventually, won't it affect thier sales though?

J: I think so.

T: Don't you think diners also rely too much on this kind of guide?

K: You can check anything on your smartphone, you don't really know whats true.

J: You don't, there are these restaurant review sites where some people are paid to write good reviews, and some people are paid to write bad reviews, you know, to destroy thier rivals they will write bad stuff...So its difficult to know how far to trust that type of thing. By the way, Kaoru, do you refer to reviews in relation to food, or new music or anything like that?

K: Well, I do, yes. Guides and such...Usually, I  get information I want to know from all over the place. I ask people, like..'I want to eat this', or 'I wonder if that place is good' or something,  I ask people what they think.

T: But when you want to go to see a movie, do you ask someone who likes movies?

K: I'll read what someone has written about it, or I'll read what they've posted on social media.

J: The main thing is listening to people you can trust.

K: Yes, thats it.

J: Someone you are familiar with, or some well-informed person. Also someone you see eye to eye with.

T: Thats right.

J: If you go out for food with someone, and they say 'this is delicious', if you ask them what else they like, it will be the same kind of things that you like.

K: Really, I've never been to a two star or three star Michelin restaurant * the others laugh*.

J: Well, this internet age isn't going to end...

T: Right

J: Just how far will people trust this kind of assesment, or star rating?

T: Joe, have you ever been hassled by anyone because of this? By artists or such?

J: I havn't actually...I write what I didn't personally like, and sign my name with a star rating, then, 'this is what I think, but what do YOU think', to continue the conversation.

K: Our boss in our office, he was in a band a long time ago, and he got angry about something that was written in a magazine, so he stormed over to the magazine headquarters * the others laugh*  He might ????*1

J,T: Your boss, wow!

J: What was the magazine?

K: Oh, I don't remember..*laughing*

J: Which of them has the freedon of expression? *laughing*

K: They are both clashing with each other.

J: The moment their freedom clashed *laughs*

T: But, Ive heard that kind of story before...A hip hop artist or something, went to a magazine and tried to restrain or kidnap the editor. He took it that seriously.

J: Well, in a music magazine, if you write an article, its the same with interviews, you dont know whether the other party will see or hear it. For me, after editing, I think its good to show it to the artist once. Im only writing my ideas, and there are times where thats not the reality.

For interviews, you dont necessarily hand over the questions in advance, and if im just asking at random, the artist may feel on the spot and not be able to say what they really feel, so i think its good to show them once, to get the facts right.  With reviews too, i think showing them what i intend to write is important. But there are magazines where the boss doesnt get the content checked, 'you said it, so take responsibility', kind of thing. Thats a bit harsh, i think.

T: Well, yes. With interviews, I think its good to show the person. Protecting freedom should be kept independent.

J: Yes, yes, you are free to write what you think, but this is also keeping it real by checking if artists are holding responsibility for what they say. They decide whether they can really say that after checking it first.

K: There are times when you wish you'd used more words..

J: There are! Of course, its limited to the time and place of the interview, for example 1 hour, the time is squeezed. You have to get on with it, with little explanation..sometimes you need to supplement that.

T: Yes, you're right.

K: What do you think, Kami?

J: Kamiii?

Kami: *stifled laugh* Yes, what?

J: I don't know how to address him.

Kami: No no, don't worry about that, we are short on time.

K: Yes, our third installment is ending.

J: It felt quick today..somehow.

K: Originally, one episode was supposed to have two news items.

J: Yeah, i thought that.

K: But it didn't work that way, did it?

J: No, it didnt. What do the viewers think? Is one item enough? Or do they want two items at a faster pace?

K: If its too long, they won't be able to watch it.

J,T: Right.

T: A shorter video is better.

J: As for raising the number of views, right?

K: We talk about quite difficult stuff too, we should try to break into it as much as we can, make it interesting. Oh, and Kami, even his voice is interesting.

J: Its enough.

K: Well, that was the third installment, please tune in next time.

K, J, T: Thank you very much.

*1 I couldn't catch this. 

[btsslowburnfic]

BTBY Chapter 6

Series Summary: For Namjoon, the moment he set his sights on being the #1 rapper, he pushed the symbol to the side and hated it. Love should be chosen, not forced on you. He didn’t believe in fate and this mark on his wrist was a big “fuck you” to all that.

Chapter Summary: Award Show Day!

Previous chapter here

The rest of rehearsal was blissfully boring, as well as dinner. The BTS production unit was filming their behind-the-scenes content so the guys were occupied the rest of the evening, sparing you from anymore awkward conversation.

The next morning you throw on leggings and a t-shirt and go get your hair and make up done for the award show. It’s not like anyone was going to take your picture or anything, but with everyone else looking so nice you would feel out of place if you didn’t also look fancy. You sucked at hair and make-up so you happily paid the salon pricing. You double checked your garment bag and work bag before heading to the venue.

Security is tight as usual and you happily flash your ID and credentials to the staff. You are the first one to arrive from your team. You find the green rooms for BTS and a shared space for several bands' back up dancers. You sit your belongings in a corner out of the way and begin to review the catering order and ensure the requested food and beverages are present. You are super nervous about today. This is your fifth year doing this award show but your first year mostly solo, and the first year your group hasn’t practiced at the actual venue the day before. You sigh, sitting down the request sheet and counting the hair dryers and flat-irons.

Gina, Xavier, and Joe arrive fifteen minutes later. "Hey there good looking," You walk over and hug Joe, careful to keep your face off his suit. Gina is already in her gown and Xavier is like you, dressed in sweatpants and a shirt, ready to practice. “Ok Gina, what would you like me to do today?” you ask your boss even though you can already guess based on the fact one of you is dressed fancy and one of you is dressed for the gym.

“I’m going to stay here and get the stylists and back up dancers checked in. I want you and Xavier to go wait by the back door for BTS and immediately take them to the stage for rehearsal. As soon as the back-ups get checked in I’m sending them your way. When you’re done, bring them here for hair and make-up and then they’ll walk the carpet.”

“Okie dokie.” you say, “See you later Joe!” you smile and pat his arm as you exit the room. Xavier stops and gives him a kiss before he follows you. The hallway is a clusterfuck of PD teams and garment racks, back-up dancers, and caterers, but you love it. So much chaos but also organization. You love awards show days. You were just so nervous you had forgotten how invigorating it was.

“I’m so excited to watch the performances later!” Xavier squeals as the two of you line up alongside other teams by the back door. You hold up your little “BTS” sign so the group can find you easier. The signs were dumb but necessary. The guys had actually hung out with you way more than your previous artists since you were all working together in a small studio space. And, other than the whole soulmate thing, they were the nicest group you had worked with so far. They were patient with your team and their production unit and chose to stay and eat with everyone at the studio, when they could have had catering delivered to the hotel. Yes, at this moment you were feeling very excited and proud.

A few minutes passed where you made small talk with some other producers who were waiting. You saw several other singers and bands arrive. Finally a large group came in and you knew it had to be yours. You immediately found RM.

"Good morning! Are you guys all ready to go straight to the stage?" you ask as you walk alongside him now that all of the guys and the production team were in the building.

"Yeah we gave our stuff to our manager to take to the green room so let's get there as soon as possible." he responds.

"Alright," follow me.” You lead the group through the winding hallways to the stage, trying to keep them focused even though they and other celebrities keep stopping to wave and say "hi" to each other.

"Sorry, they don't get out often," RM jokes as he apologizes to you. "it's fine. We're good on time.” you assure him while checking your watch” The backup dancers are still going through security clearance.” You had sent Xavier ahead to the stage to meet any who arrived early.

“Hey! Is that [Y/N]?” you hear a voice call out in the narrow hallway.

You recognize the well-dressed man as Mr. Salontes, the manager of Imagine Dragons.

“Mr. Salontes!” you lean in for a polite hug, “It’s great to see you again! How are you? You guys are up for best alternative album right?”

“You have such a great memory [y/n], yes we are, and we’re getting ready to promote it on tour this summer. Speaking of which, we’re looking for a Director. I’ve heard great things about you. Are you looking for a tour this summer?” he looks at you hopefully.

Your eyes widen as you stand there shocked for a second, you were not expecting a group this popular to make you offer and you certainly weren’t expecting it in a busy hallway while you were leading your group to rehearsal. “Oh wow, that sounds amazing. Thank you. I am looking to tour this summer. Ummm… Do you also have a position for a choreographer?"

“No, sorry, just a Directing position. We’ve already hired our choreographer.” You think for a few seconds and take a deep breath, “Oh, that’s too bad. I already promised my choreographer Xavier that I would tour with him this summer.”

Mr. Salontes gives you a kind but incredulous look. “Are you sure? This is a really big opportunity you’re turning down. I’m sure your friend would understand.”

He was so nice about it, you felt even worse. But, a promise is a promise. Xavier and Joe had been there for you through some really shitty times, you were’t going to go back on your word.

“I know, and I really appreciate it I just can’t go back on my word. I do really appreciate the opportunity though. Good luck tonight,” you say with a tone of finality as you begin moving again to get your group to the stage.

“You are crazy,” you hear RM comment behind you.

You roll your eyes, “Oh yeah? Why is that?”

“You just turned down working with one of the biggest groups in your country right now. You don’t think that Manager is going to run off and tell a bunch of other people that you’re difficult to work with. I thought you took your job seriously.”

You sigh as you continue to meander through the hallways. Yeah you felt bad about declining the offer, but what were you supposed to do? “I love my job but it’s just a job. If he wants to go and tell people that I won’t leave my friend behind then let him. Other opportunities will come along, My friendship with Xavier is more important. Alright, here we are,” you stop and wait in the wings, scanning the backstage for Xavier and your dancers.

“[Y/N] over here!” Xavier waves at you. You walk over. “Ok all of the dancers are here so we are good to go.”

“Perfect let me go check with AV and I will be right back.” you run down to the sound booth to make sure they knew which group was getting ready to go. “Ok, back up dancers you will be over here stage Left.” You look at your sheet. “V, Jhope, and Jungkook you are also stage left. RM and Jin head to Stage left and Jimin, go to the center of the stage.”

They run the songs with choreography and lights only two times. You and another assistant begin to apply lav mics to them for the full rehearsal. “Ok so no throwing mic pacs today ok? These ones are expensive,” you tease RM as you apply the mic around his torso, feeling the electricity buzzing again. “Dammit,” you accidentally say out loud.

“What? Is the mic shorting out?” he asks, looking alarmed. He does have a tendency to break things.

“No the mic is fine,” you mutter.

“Then what’s causing the electricity,” he asks perplexed.

You smirk and feel your cheeks flush, “It’s a soulmate thing,” you say under your breath. You feel him tense up.

“Oh...sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, I’m almost finished.” you respond as you hand him the in-ears. “Ok, looks good.” you assess him for a minute and then move on to Jin. His placement is much faster even though he is blushing like a schoolgirl. Cute. All of these guys were adorable. And hot. How was this possible?

You signal to the sound booth that you are ready and they run the full practice through twice. Ahh it looks so good. You have water available for them once they finish. “That looked so good!” you say to Xavier.

“I know I know! Let’s get them to hair and make-up.” you say as you gather the men and lead them to their green room. The walk back to the room is much faster fortunately. The stylists are all waiting at different chairs and their outfits have been hung up for them. “Alright, we’ll see you guys in about 2 hours. You have hair and make-up and then you’ll walk the carpet. After that come back here and we’ll wait to be seated,” you tell the group, allowing RM to translate. You and Xavier grab your garment bags and head over to the dancer’s green room to change and kill time.

“You look amazing!” Xavier compliments you as you exit the changing room in your dress. It’s a long sleeve number with a straight neckline, scoop back, and is mid-thigh length.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you say as you walk over and straighten up his pocket square and tie.

“Soooo anything new? You knowwwwwwww???” he asks.

“Yeah, we had sex in the green room just now. It took 30 seconds while everyone else wasn’t looking. It was great,” you say dryly.

Xavier rolls his eyes at you. “You’re no fun. So he’ s leaving tomorrow and then that’s it?”

“Yep. Just like that. The way things were before.”

“And you’re fine with that?”

You sit down on a bench and cross your legs. Xavier joins you. “Yeah. I mean he’s super cool and all, it’s just not what either of us want.”

“Well we’ve come a long way from yesterday at least.”

You sulk on the bench for a second and then pull up your phone to watch the Red Carpet interviews. It was always so cool to think that you had a small part in making this award show come together. You guys watch the network interview several bands and your back up dancers come over when it’s BTS’s turn. You hear exclamations of “so cool” “Hotness” “I bet they win” and you smile as you hold your phone.

You look at your watch. “Ok, I’m going to head to the green room. Ill see you at our seats?” you ask Xavier.

“You got it doll,” he plants a small kiss on your cheek. “Good luck. I’m sure tonight will go great.”

You smile and head over to their green room. A few stylists are still around to do touch up work and some caterers are refilling waters and snacks. Everything is going according to plan. You sit down for a minute and enjoy the quiet before the storm. A few minutes later, the band and their filming crew arrive. You stand up automatically but you are finishing up reading an article on your phone so you don’t immediately look up.

When you do you see that RM is staring at you with his mouth slightly open. You look at him questioningly. “What’s wrong?”

“Uh,” sorry. He puts his hands in his suit pockets. “You just uh look really pretty.”

You stand there in shock for a second. “Oh. Thanks. I guess I forgot that I changed clothes,” you laugh while gesturing at your dress.

“Oooo lovely sexy lady,” Jimin says to you as he walks over to his seat.

Namjoon barks out in Korean, “Be professional, she’s our director.”

“I’m just saying the truth,” Jim responds in turn. He winks as he walks past you.

“Thank you,’ you blush and say to Jimin. “You guys look great as well.”

RM rolls his eyes and storms over to his chair, taking out his phone and doesn’t say another word to you. You feel your body slowly get hot with Anger. His Anger. Wtf dude? NEXT CHAPTER

[holyangemon]

Episode 22 - The Saddest Episode of Adventure? (Not Clickbait)

Oh boy is there so much to unpack in episode 22. This episode is a lot. If you’d like to witness someone scream about just how much of a lot episode 22 is, then welcome. I have some screaming to do. 

(this is literally just a recap of the entire episode and I’m pretty terrible at analysis so this probably makes no sense but hey, I have spirit)

I don’t even know where to start there’s just so much going on here. Okay, from the beginning. Taichi gets back to the digital world and finds Tokomon passed out from hunger with Takeru’s discarded digivice and crest. Obviously some shit went down, and Tokomon is nice enough to explain.

Through this, we find out that Taichi and Agumon have been missing for at least a month and a half, which is where Tokomon’s flash back explanation starts, and that the kids stayed in the desert looking for Taichi for this month and a half. We see the group arguing over what they should do next. Sora wants to keep looking, Yamato thinks it’s hopeless, Koushiro wants to find Gennai, Mimi wants to go home, and Joe doesn’t actually say what he wants. (In the next episode it’s revealed he went to look for food before being led astray by PicoDevimon, but in the context of this episode he just kind of goes). But anyway, important thing to point out here is:

the saddest images I’ve ever seen in my life. Takeru is sitting off by himself, which may make sense while they’re having big kid talk and he stays warm next to the fire, but he also sleeps by himself while the rest of them are all huddled together. Also to note is that Takeru and Yamato are on the complete opposite ends. Here we can see how disconnected Takeru is from the rest of the kids, including his brother. This’ll be important later, but let’s put a pin in it for now.

Here is where the group falls apart, with Sora heading off on her own first. She lets Tokomon know that her and Piyomon are off to look for Taichi, to try to keep Takeru from crying if she doesn’t tell him.

(A month and a half in this desert, by the way). Koushiro heads off first, followed by Joe, and finally Mimi, leaving the brothers and their Digimon as the only ones left together. Once it’s just them, they finally leave the desert. We also learn that during this time they haven’t encountered any new enemies. Takeru wants to go back into the desert and look for Taichi.

But as we already know, Yamato has given up. You can’t blame him either, how long are they expected to just wait in a desert? Of course, Takeru cries, and Yamato instantly apologizes, and says that Taichi and Agumon are probably doing fine somewhere.

I’m telling you, this is some heavy shit. Yamato agrees, and says they’ll see them again someday. If he really means that, or is just saying that to keep Takeru happy is another matter, and probably something Yamato is conflicted on himself. Regardless, they continue on, and come across an amusement park. Yamato thinks to himself that it looks safe, and they explore the deserted park. And here is where things take a turn.

We see Takeru holding back tears before saying that he’ll be okay, and will wait.

He asks Yamato to come back quickly, as Yamato has decided to go check things out in the infamous swan boat, planning to only be gone for two to three hours. Now, it’s easy to judge Yamato a bit for leaving Takeru alone in the first place, he could have taken Takeru with him, but Yamato needing some time alone to think things over without upsetting Takeru would make sense. I wouldn’t  judge him for that, can relate, but it’s unfortunate how it ultimately turns out. In any case, Takeru insists that Yamato come back quickly, and waves him off with a smile. Once Yamato is out of sight though . . . 

And my heart breaks again. This boy is too good at hiding his feelings when it’s something that deeply hurts him. But that’s a long rant for another day. For now, unfortunately, Yamato does not end up coming back. Takeru waits until nightfall, and refuses to eat, before eventually falling asleep on a bench next to the wharf Yamato set off from.

Please my heart can only shatter so many times. Takeru continues to wait on the wharf, wondering why his brother won’t come back. He said he was just going to take a look around. He said he’d be back soon! 

Takeru reaches his limit and breaks down. But unfortunately, it’s not over yet. A certain bat shaped Digimon decides that this small sweet boy isn’t broken enough yet. He approaches them, pretends to have good intentions, thanks them for being involved in defeating Etemon, and offers to go look for Yamato. No good intentions can be found in PicoDevimon, and he comes back to spout some dirty dirty lies.

“Yamato said that he doesn’t want to see your face anymore. He said that he really, really, really hates you. He doesn’t want to be your brother anymore.”

“Oh, Yamato also said this. He really hates you for being a crybaby.”

This is too much for Takeru, and he runs off in tears.

Tokomon of course tries to tell Takeru that Yamato would never say anything like that. But Takeru is in no state to listen right now.

I’m not even halfway through the episode oh god. Tokomon runs off to confront PicoDevimon about being a lying little bitch, but he of course denies it, since Tokomon has no proof. Tokomon is pissed, and hits PicoDevimon with his baby bubbles. Unfortunately, Takeru chooses this moment to arrive on the scene, and he’s an anti-fight boy.

PicoDevimon sees his chance to cause a rift between the two, and says not to blame Tokomon, he was jealous that him and Takeru had been getting along. Tokomon scoffs at this, causing Takeru to get mad at Tokomon’s attitude, and tells him to apologize to PicoDevimon. Tokomon refuses, they argue, and Tokomon claims that he’ll leave if Takeru keeps trying to force him to apologize. So, Takeru tells him to go ahead and leave.

Tokomon gives Takeru the chance to change his mind, but Takeru is hurt, extremely hurt, and is taking it out on Tokomon.

And this is where the flashback ends, and we’re back to Taichi. Taichi is worried about Yamato, he knows that Yamato would never willingly abandon his little brother, but finding Takeru comes first. Meanwhile, Takeru is spending a very depressing time in the amusement park with PicoDevimon. PicoDevimon is trying to get Takeru to forget about Tokomon using the rides, but it’s not working out for him.

Yeah, Takeru’s not in the mood for fun. PicoDevimon asks if Takeru is worried about Tokomon. At first, Takeru says who cares, but follows it up with wondering if Tokomon is okay by himself . . . . but he really doesn’t care about him at all. PicoDevimon sees through the tsundere act, knows he needs a new plan, and heads off to regroup, leaving Takeru alone.

He deals with this by sleeping (relatable), and this is where Taichi finds him. The first thing Takeru says to Taichi is “Taichi! You’re alive!” and it’s just really heartbreaking that these kids had to seriously consider the fact that Taichi could be dead. They don’t dwell on it much in the show, but it’s pretty dang dark.

A rare non-Yamato related hug from Takeru. Taichi apologizes for making Takeru worried. Takeru notices that Tokomon is back, and ruins the happy mood by asking Tokomon if he realizes he was wrong now. Tokomon angrily replies that he did nothing wrong, which is true. And the arguing starts again. 

They really are kids. Imagine Angemon having this argument. This time, Taichi is here to break it up and tells them this isn’t the time to fight since they should go look for Yamato and other others. But Takeru doesn’t want to. Everyone left him. First Sora.

Can you here those screams in the distance? That’s me. Takeru has taken PicoDevimon’s words about how Yamato, and has applied them to everyone else too. Why?

Because he had already had those types of thoughts himself. PicoDevimon was voicing his worst suspicions. Whether they did it intentionally or not, we can clearly see that there was some excluding of Takeru going on. We don’t get to see what happens during this month and a half, so unfortunately the why is unknown. Maybe because their conversations are more serious in general and they don’t want to deal with Takeru crying. If he was crying often, maybe some resentment/annoyance was growing. Or maybe Takeru himself was distancing himself. However it happened, negative feelings were brewing, and being a kid sensitive to separation, everyone leaving would enhance those negative thoughts. PicoDevimon’s lie has grown from Yamato hates me, to everyone hates me. And that makes my heart hurt.

Taichi tries to counter this by saying that there was no way Yamato could ever hate him (which is true, but mention the others too Taichi!). And here’s where Takeru says something veeery interesting.

(episode 3, directed at Taichi)

It’s like they say, kids are more perceptive that they’re given credit for. Takeru isn’t exactly wrong about this, but he goes a bit overboard, and connects it with Yamato being against searching for Taichi when Takeru wanted to, and then adds an extra reason for why Yamato hates him.

Taichi is not equipped to deal with this. Takeru’s thoughts are really spiraling at this point, all centered around how everyone hates him and why. Let’s not consider him potentially thinking that his dad and brother left because they hate him. It’s a good thing Yamato isn’t here to see this, because Takeru claims he wants to be Taichi’s little brother instead.

That’s an understatement, Taichi. Taichi is currently the only person Takeru has who he doesn’t think hates him, so of course he’s going to latch onto him. Taichi is essentially the fun friend and Yamato is the strict brother. It doesn’t help that since the brothers don’t get to spend a lot of time together, there’s some awkwardness in their relationship, mostly from Yamato. There’s some awkwardness from Yamato just in general. He completely adores Takeru, but isn’t always great at showing that in ways Takeru can understand.

We don’t get to see the in-between of this conversation, but Taichi is able to calm Takeru down and coax him into agreeing to at least hearing what Yamato has to say in person. Things are going well, but of course liar mc-lying bat shows back up with a bunch of memory erasing mushrooms. Like he hasn’t caused enough damage. PicoDevimon tries to start an argument with Tokomon, but Agumon interrupts to ask about Yamato. PicoDevimon doubles down on his claims, because he sucks, and Taichi asks to be taken to where Yamato is.

PicoDevimon agrees, but offers them some of his sketchy mushrooms to eat before they head off. He’s just the worst. Everyone is hungry, apparently hungry enough for some sketch mushrooms, but Agumon needs a convenient bathroom break where a mysterious voice that sounds a lot like Sora warns him that the mushrooms erase memories. So convenient!

Thank god Takeru tried to eat the mushroom whole without biting into it. Phew. When Agumon reveals with the mushrooms do, Takeru finally gets suspicious. (Why no one is suspicious about PicoDevimon from his name alone I’ll never know. Shouldn’t the whole Devimon part set off some alarm bells?)

Panicked and with his cover blown, PicoDevimon admits to everything being a lie.

It sure is buddy. Takeru apologizes to Tokomon right away for treating him so horribly, but of course Tokomon tells him not to worry about it and isn’t angry at all. It’s like Takeru said in episode 12, fighting between friends is okay, because you’ll make up soon. But fighting between adults . . . 

With the partners friends again, Taichi gives Takeru his digivice and crest back. Thanks to the reveal with PicoDevimon was lying, Takeru has restored some hope that maybe everyone doesn’t hate him after all.

This is enough for the Crest of Hope to regain its light (what a tease considering it won’t be properly activated for 30 more episodes). And here we see a first for Takeru. He actually wants to fight.

This is the same boy who initially wanted to try to talk it out with Devimon first, so this is a big shift for him. PicoDevimon 100% deserves it, but it’s sad to see how he’s losing his innocence. But it means the return of Patamon! Hurray! Making his battle debut, since this marks the first time Patamon is in a proper battle on his own (the Elecmon battle was half a fight that turned into tug of war).

. . . it could be better. Patamon really gets slammed all over the place. It’s surprisingly violent. But with Takeru cheering him on, Patamon is able to ultimately win (unfortunately PicoDevimon doesn’t die, we’re stuck with this asshole for awhile). 

Takeru once again apologizes for what’s happened, but Patamon is a pure precious bean so everything’s okay.

Takeru also says he needs to apologize to Yamato later too, though if Yamato knew the full details of what happened here he’d freak as much as I have. The episode ends with Taichi explaining that the distortions in the Digital World are affecting the real world, and that they’ll need everyone’s strengths to fix it before they can go home.

And with that weight on Takeru’s shoulders, the episode finally ends.

Phew, that’s a rough one. There are so many insights into Takeru’s character here, but I don’t want to get too much into all that until the rewatch is finished and I can look at the whole package. 

Does anyone else internally scream when they think about this episode? Or am I just losing my mind? Let me know.

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

A visit to Coral Beach

What a fun time at the beach! Coral Beach is such a lovely place - from the clear blue waters and colorful mosaics scattered throughout the boardwalk, it's one of those places ideal for vacationing based on appearance alone. No photoshopping necessary when it comes to taking pictures here!

I'm surprised that I haven't visited the beach sooner since it's about an hour away from the camp. In fact, there's still so many places nearby that I haven't been to yet. The trip was kinda a spur of the moment kind of thing Pancetti, Audie, Snooty, Lyman, and I planned at the last minute. By chance I ran into an old friend who's vacationing there too and now she's coming back with us.

So we spent a couple days at Coral Beach exploring the sights and enjoying the resort and then tomorrow we're heading back to the camp. Of course, I also spent the time catching up with Desi, who's been enjoying the seaside scenery.

Desi Rivera's an aspiring singer-songwriter who hopes to make it big one day. Right now though, she's jumping off the ladder and starting from scratch. It's a risky move, but I think it's a necessary one. Given her talent and ambition, I know that Desi will come out stronger than ever.

I met Desi at summer camp years ago. Even though we only spent one summer together, we kept in touch for a while after that. The summer camp thing was something our parents made us do and to be honest it wasn't really our thing so they didn't push us when we told them that there wasn't going to be a next summer. The experience wasn't terrible - I did make a friend after all - but summer camp and I just didn't click at all. Now that I think about it, it's kinda interesting that as an adult I'm running a camp right now - though this and summer camp are totally different.

Since Desi lived in the town nearby we often ran into each other. As we got older contact became sporadic but we occasionally said hi to each other when our paths crossed. Then as adults we regained contact on social media and have been keeping up with each other since then. Desi often posts covers and original songs, which is how she got her online following. She could've easily made it big if it weren't for certain people.

Desi's journey as a singer-songwriter is sure to become an interesting one. Ever since she could talk, Desi knew she wanted to be a singer. She always had a nice voice, one that became more refined as she got older. Talented songwriter too, with an honest and poetic way with words. And it's a damn shame that her talent has been consistently overshadowed and sidelined for white mediocrity.

Yup, I said it - mediocrity. No disrespect to Meghan Tyler and Too Cool - I mean I can see their commercial appeal, but for the most part, their music is bland and forgettable. Music tastes aside, it is pretty impressive that Desi was in the same circles as people like Meghan and Joe of the Shayne Brothers.

Desi first met the two at a camp for aspiring musicians, the well known Camp Music. She was one of many talented nobodies who wanted a glimpse at stardom. Meghan Tyler is the daughter of pop star Ann Tyler, and it was her who ran the camp, the typical queen bee. I happened to cross paths with Meghan and her friends online (unrelated reasons) and they always gave me a vibe of a high school clique. I interacted with her indirectly a couple times but then actively avoided her when her friends stirred up drama. It's one thing to vagueblog about an ex-friend who screwed you over, it's another to ruin someone's reputation by claiming that they faked their trauma just because you had a petty falling out with them.

Then there's Joe Shayne, best known as the lead singer for the Shayne Brothers. He was amazed by Desi's voice and took an interest in her. The two started off kinda rough with Joe pushing his boundaries and Desi rightfully calling him out on his entitled behavior. The whole thing was kinda like a Cinderella story with Joe trying to figure out who was the singer he overheard while passing by while Desi tried too hard to impress him after realizing who he was. By the end of the summer, they began dating, becoming regulars at Camp Music for the next several years.

Despite what the others were saying, Desi and Joe were going strong for eight years. Desi was associated with the Shayne Brothers, which was a blessing and a curse. As much as she liked Joe and his brothers, she didn't want to be known solely because of her connection to them. They were going to get engaged until last year when Desi broke things off. According to her, things had been kinda rough for a while but they tried - probably a bit too hard, in her words - to stay together. They're still friends but Desi thinks in a year or two they'll drift away, which I think is what she wants.

On one hand it's kinda sad since they've been together for so long. And from what I've heard about Joe, being with Desi helped him a lot as before he met her he was on his way to becoming a short tempered almost has-been. Basically, she made him shape up and consider his future seriously. But aside from their love of music, Desi and Joe were from completely different worlds. In the years since they got together, they've grown into two different people. The two have spoken openly about their breakup and it seems like it's for the best. Sometimes things just don't work out in the end and that's okay.

As for Meghan, Desi always had a complicated relationship with her. Being the fish out of water, Desi tried to impress Meghan, even if it meant dumbing down herself to please Meghan's ego. There was always some sort of competition between them with Desi constantly feeling like she has to prove herself. While Meghan did help Desi out with her connections and fame, Desi never felt she earned her recognition, another reason why she wanted to start from the ground up.

For years Desi was part of Meghan's band, Too Cool. While Desi occasionally had some solos that charted, she and the other members were always overshadowed by Meghan. She considers the whole experience a mixed bag, one that started out exciting but in the end the bad outweighed the good.

A few months ago, not too long after leaving Too Cool, Desi did an insightful interview for a magazine where she spoke honestly about her ups and downs with the band as well as her breakup with Joe. I always felt that she deserved better than Too Cool, especially after reading the interview. From being constantly referred to as "the Mexican one" even though she stated multiple times she's Cuban, to being told to sing slightly off key in order to make Meghan sound better - no wonder she wanted out. It's an eye opening read on the ugly side of the music industry, particularly on how WOC artists are treated.

Following her departure, another member and longtime friend of Meghan, Maria Silva, also left the band for similar reasons. She too had also spoken out about the racism she experienced, having been constantly referred to as "the Chinese one" despite being Filipino. I don't know Maria too well but she comes across as genuine and I wish her well on her solo endeavors.

Right now Desi's taking a break on music, though not entirely. She's been writing songs and making demos but it'll be a while before she releases something. For now Desi wants to celebrate her freedom, starting with a long, well deserved vacation. Then once she's had enough rest and relaxation, she plans to jump back into the music scene with a bang, this time on her own terms with her calling all the shots.

Desi's been teasing me and the campers with what she has in store. In light of the racism she experienced with Too Cool, Desi wants to embrace her Cuban culture more than ever, starting with the music. Mainstream pop radio hits aren't her thing anymore, so she's going for a new sound inspired by her Cuban roots along with her usual pop rock style she's got going on since she began writing songs. She's also considering the idea of doing an album in Spanish, though that'll depend on a lot of factors.

It's nice to see her so excited and passionate about her music - that's one of the things I love about her! Like I said, Desi's got talent and ambition, and I know that she'll successfully make a name for herself without Meghan or Joe's shadows. I mean, the demos I've heard already sound a million times better than pretty much everything Too Cool has done - imagine how the final product will be! Once the album comes out, I'll be one of the first in line to buy and download a copy.

We met up with Desi by chance at the hotel, her room being upstairs. She's been traveling around, crossing off places where she always wanted to visit. So far she's crossed off four places from her list. After Coral Beach she was debating on Hero's Tunnel and Swan Park since they're right next to each other. Since the camp's along the way, I invited her over and hopefully during her time there, she can make up her mind on where to visit first. I know she'll enjoy the camp, especially Saltwater Shores since she's a beach gal.

Coral Beach is such a beautiful place. One of the first things we did when we got there was to pose in front of the fountain and toss a bell in for a wish. Then we checked into the Coral Beach Hotel, where we got a lovely view of the ocean and fountain.

The architecture of the hotel is so pretty, it reminds me of an old village on a tropical island. Along the boardwalk are charming little shops and cafes where we got to enjoy shaved ice and fine handmade souvenirs. I got a set of cute floral teacups, a dot grid notebook with a pretty mosaic cover, a gorgeous seashell necklace, and a painted ukulele.

We went swimming and snorkeling in the ocean, where we got to see the pretty coral the place is known for. Nature can be so fascinating sometimes - the coral really does look like fancy lace! I also collected a bunch of pretty seashells like pearl oysters, which are pretty rare, as well as pink oyster shells and obsidian shells, something I've never seen before. Desi suggested that we go parasailing - her new favorite activity as of recently - so that's what we did and it was a lot of fun! We also went surfing, watched a performance at the theater, shared cocktails during happy hour, and explored the gardens.

Today we went to a mosaic workshop and made some cool decor. Then we went to a ceramics shop where we watched how bowls were made, which was pretty cool. After that we had a late lunch at Sash, where we had poke and butter mochi. Next door was a bookstore where we browsed for a while and then we spent a couple hours at the beach before heading to the hotel for dinner.

Since we aren't leaving until tomorrow afternoon, we had some time to kill so we spent it at the pool, lounging around. Desi says she's looking forward to seeing the camp and meeting up with Daisy Jane. It's so good seeing Desi relaxed and having a great time, especially after what she had to put up with during her time with Too Cool.

It's getting late now and I still have a little bit of packing left to do. The ocean's so pretty at this time of night, the way the light of the stars reflect on the water like sparkles. I can't wait to come back in the near future.

[three-drink-amy]

All the Shine of a Thousand Spotlights

This chapter was inspired by an interview I saw with Lin Manuel-Miranda about Hamilton and Beyonce. I thought it would translate well to this story! Hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading! 

masterlist - AO3

Chapter Fourteen - When You’re Worn Out and Tired

It started as a gentle sniffle. I’d handed him a kleenex without much thought. Jamie was never sick. Never even allergies. The sniffle alone should have alerted me. But it didn’t. The sniffle grew stronger and lasted a few days. I figured everyone gets sniffles and it didn’t really matter. 

But then the sniffle became a cough. 

And the cough was obnoxious. It was loud. It sounded painful. It made him double over sometimes as he barked it out. 

He was getting worse. 

I wasn’t much of a caretaker. Never really getting sick all that often, I didn’t really even know what I liked when I was sick. We were two healthy people, but Jamie was starting to fall into another category. 

He wouldn’t admit that he was sick though. The first day of the cough, he chugged a bunch of cough syrup right before leaving for the theater. He came home that night looking exhausted out of his mind. Stumbling in, he barely made it to the couch before he collapsed in exhaustion. I covered him with a blanket and let him come to bed whenever he woke up in the middle of the night. It wouldn’t do to try and get him back to consciousness. 

The second day of the cough, it took on a different quality. It was deeper, and objectively, grosser. He hacked away like his life depended on it. That day, he took the bottle of cough syrup with him. Coming home, he was in a similar state to the night before. He plopped down on the couch, but before he could close his eyes, I had him back up and walking toward the bedroom. Jamie was out before I was even into my pajamas. 

The third day of the cough, it was getting even worse. I was reminded of those cough suppressant commercials where the mucus mocks the sick people. I pictured a mucus party in his lungs. No matter what he took, it didn’t seem to make a difference. Granted, he wasn’t getting the rest he needed. Day three was when I floated the idea of his understudy. Jamie scoffed heavily, ignoring the idea completely. He sounded awful though. I suggested a doctor visit and he claimed he didn’t have the time. I knew he was stubborn, but I hadn’t seen this level of stubbornness from him yet. 

Day four was the breaking point. His cough was still getting worse. I told him in no uncertain terms could he go do the show that night. He’d surely cough through the whole thing and give people an awful experience. He insisted that with enough medicine, he could get through it the same as the last three nights. I stood my ground though. If he could be stubborn, so could I. Standing next to him while he still sat in bed, I watched as he called and requested his understudy. It was clear that it killed him to do so, but he took me seriously at least. He sounded like death and more than preserving the show, I wanted him to rest and heal. 

“I just feel bad,” he whined as I walked in with a cup of tea. I’d called Ellen and asked her what he’d liked when he was sick as a child. She’d sent me a long text of all the remedies she would try. I appreciated the help. 

“You shouldn’t feel bad. This is literally why we cast understudies, Jamie,” I reminded him.

“Aye, I ken that. But do ye know how many times ye’ve told me I was perfect for the part?” Rolling my eyes, I nodded. Of course he was going to use my words against me. “I suppose that’s gone to my head a bit because I’m no’ sure I trust Mark wi’ the role.” 

I shook my head and shoved the mug of tea in his hands. “Mark will be fine. He’s trained for this and watched you perform plenty of times. He’s got it.” 

“But his Scottish accent is shite,” Jamie argued, hacking out a cough. 

“Yes, but I’m sure Mark can get through a line without getting mucus on the first row.” 

Jamie glared at me as he blew on his tea. “That’s cold.” 

“I see steam coming from it,” I replied, looking at his mug. 

He shook his head at me. “I meant yer comment.” I sat down on the bed next to him while I felt more whining coming. “I just feel like I’m abandoning the cast. I’m letting them down.”

“Didn’t you say Louise was sick in, like, the first two months?” 

Jamie nodded with an annoyed look.

“And Joe missed a week of shows right? When Gail had the baby?” 

With a sigh, Jamie agreed with me. 

“Tell me, did the show fall apart without them?” 

“No,” he said in a small voice. 

“Then it’s not going to fall apart with you either. And if you don’t take at least one damned day to take care of yourself, you’re going to miss several shows because this will have turned into pneumonia and you’ll be in the hospital. Is that what you want?” 

“Obviously not,” Jamie answered, taking a long sip of his tea. “I just...this is my first show. I dinna want to be the weak link. I’m no’ saying I think the show hinges on me, I just dinna want to leave them hanging or let them down.” 

“Do you want me to go?” I asked. His head whipped over to look at me. “Not in your place, obviously, but it’s been a while since I’ve done a check up. I could go and make sure everything runs smoothly for you. Then I can tell you tomorrow how it all went.” 

“Why no’ tonight?” 

“Because I have a feeling you’ll be fast asleep.” 

He rolled his eyes but I saw the start of a smile at the corner of his mouth. His eyes lingered on me as he sipped more tea. “Do ye want to do that?” 

“Like I said, it’s been a while since I’ve checked in to see how things are running. I’m sure someone will freak that I’m choosing to do so the day that you’re gone, but they don’t know that I’ll already be expecting it.” 

Jamie was silent for a long moment. I could tell that he was thinking over my offer. “Ye ken, I’d probably get more sleep if ye werena here to distract me.” 

I snorted out a laugh. “I don’t think much is going to stop you from sleeping. Except maybe that damn cough.” 

He let out a long deep cough as evidence. 

“I’ll go,” I decided for him. “It’ll be nice to see everyone at a time when I don’t have to act weirdly toward you.” 

Jamie laughed, but it only made him cough again. He nodded at my decision. “Alright, then. I’ll finish this and go to sleep.” 

I leaned over and pressed a kiss to his slightly sweaty temple. “I think that’s a good call.” I jumped off the bed, walking toward the bathroom. 

“Claire?” I turned back to look at him. “Thank ye.” 

My face softened as I walked closer to him, a hand resting at his cheek. “It’s not a problem, my love. I just want you to feel better.” Leaning down, I kissed his forehead. I pulled the blankets up further around him before I headed back to the bathroom. 

I left later in the day while Jamie was passed out from his cold medicine. A note was next to the bed telling him to let me know if he needed anything. I figured he’d surely still be asleep when I got home. 

As I got to the theater, a wave of feelings crashed over me. I was thrown back into the way I’d felt all through production. It was strange. Walking back in gave me such visceral memories that almost made me wish I’d chosen a check in time that Jamie would be there for. But the whole point of coming was to ease Jamie’s mind. 

Joe, thankfully, was the first one to see me. “Beauchamp!” he called, his arms outstretched. 

“Joe!” I walked over and he wrapped me in a hug. 

“What brings you by?” 

I shrugged. “Just checking in. Been a while since I’ve done so.” 

He hissed in a breath through his teeth. “You picked one hell of a show to check in on. Fraser’s out today.” 

I hoped my face didn’t betray me as I pretended to act surprised. “Oh, he is?” 

Joe nodded. “Yeah. Can’t say it surprised me all that much to hear it. He’s been fighting off something nasty for most of a week now. Boy needed a break for sure.” 

Part of me wanted to ask Joe to say that all again so that I could record it and send it to Jamie. It wasn’t just me that decided Jamie needed to rest. 

“Well then I’ll be curious to see how Mark does as understudy,” I replied. 

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Joe assured. 

“Me too.” I looked over at him and realized I hadn’t really talked to Joe in a while. We’d been friends before the show, after all. “So, how are things? How’s the baby?” 

A bright smile crossed his face. “She’s wonderful!” He immediately pulled out his phone and started showing me picture after picture of the baby. We passed the time talking about his family. I was relieved that by the time he asked me about my life, he was pulled away to get his costume on. 

I walked further backstage and was talking to one of the crew members when another familiar face pulled me aside. “What are you doing here?” John asked. 

I stared at him in surprise. “What are you doing here?” 

“I heard Fraser was going to be out so I decided to come see how things would run without him,” John told me. His eyes narrowed in my direction. “What about you?” 

Shrugging slightly, I replied. “Well, it had been a while since I had done a check in. Between taking some time off and working the other days of the week, it’s just been a while. Decided to come today. I didn’t realize Jamie wouldn’t be here.” A well executed lie. I hoped. 

“Why, because you would have picked a different night?” he teased. 

I glared at him. He held his hands up in surrender. 

“Sorry.” 

“Yeah, well you should be,” I retorted before walking away from him. 

I walked over toward the stage manager and stood toward the back wall. It wasn’t my show; I was just observing. The woman had an excited look on her face as she was whispering loudly to one of the other crew members. Each person who heard it became significantly more jittery and excited. 

“What’s going on?” I asked, stepping toward them. 

The stage manager turned toward me, her face lit up. “We heard from one of the attendants that there’s someone famous in the audience.” 

I raised one eyebrow. “Who?” 

* * *

I crept back into the apartment, feeling like quite the traitor. Slipping my shoes off, I tried to be as quiet as possible so I wouldn’t wake up Jamie. All the lights were off which meant he surely was still in bed. I’d gotten completely through my nighttime routine and pulled back the blankets before he roused at all. His head turned toward me before his eyes even opened. As I settled in bed, his hand reached out for mine. 

“Sassenach?” he whispered. 

I scooted closer, rubbing a hand along his forehead, pushing his hair back. “I’m here. How are you feeling?” 

“Tired.” 

“Mmm. I bet so. Just go back to sleep.” 

“How was the show?” he asked, ignoring my suggestion and opening his eyes. 

I chuckled to myself. “This is quite the role reversal.” A small smile tugged at his mouth. “The show went well. You’ll be happy to know that Mark didn’t ruin it.” 

“Good. Anything notable happen? Did Laoghaire ask anyone else out in my absence,” he asked around a light laugh. 

“Nope. Apparently you’re just the lucky one.” 

He rolled his eyes, fighting to keep them open at all. “You didn’t answer my other question. Anything notable?” 

My silence made him open his eyes wider to look at me. Apparently my answer was written on my glass face. 

“What happened?” 

I sucked in a breath. “There was a celebrity in the audience. Everyone got excited by that.” 

Jamie, somehow even when sick, masked his face. “Oh? Who was it?” 

“I don’t want to tell you.” 

His face betrayed him a bit this time. “Claire, who was it?” 

I bit my lip, knowing he was going to be mad at me. “It was Lin.” 

“Manuel-Miranda?” he asked, a slight gasp to his question. I nodded, my face contorted. “Are ye bloody serious?” I nodded again. “Did he come back and meet the cast?” 

“Jamie, don’t ask me that.” 

“Claire.” 

“Fine, yes, he did. He came back and talked with all of us. Apparently his dad saw the show and loved it and recommended it,” I told him. Jamie looked utterly betrayed. “I’m sorry.” 

“The one bloody day ye made me stay home and one of my idols is there?” 

“You know I never could have predicted this!” 

He shook his head at me, a disapproving look on his face. “I canna believe ye.” He pulled out his phone, opening twitter. “Would it be bad if I tweeted him and told him he should come another time so he can have a better show? You know, with the actual lead.” 

I grabbed his phone out of his hand and sat on it. “Yes, Jamie, that would be bad. I’m not letting you do that. Look, when it’s meant to be, you’ll meet your idol.” I leaned closer to him. “Maybe at the Tony Awards.” 

His eyes narrowed as he glared back at me. “Dinna invoke the Tonys to try and distract me. Ye ken I’ll start thinking on how people are predicting that we’ll get nominated. But just know, Claire Beauchamp, that I’m no’ likely to forget this any time soon.” He told me, pointing at me ominously. 

I rolled my eyes at him, tucking his blanket in tighter around him. “Okay, dear. But you know what? You sound a lot better.” He gave a half cough in reply. “Still sound better than you did earlier. Sleeping most of the day must be helping. Go back to sleep, okay.” 

He huffed in reply, but scooted to lay back down. Even if he blamed me for making him miss meeting his idol, he still clutched my arms as I became the big spoon and curled around him. My ear pressed to his shoulder blade, listening to the comforting sound of his breathing til I followed him into sleep.

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