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veronicaphoenix · 1 year

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“They look at each other like they were almost lovers, like they should have kissed, and made love and laughed in bed together, but they chose to stay friends instead. They look at each other with what ifs and could haves and hearts full of regrets.” —Nikita Gill.

Chapter tags & trigger warnings: best friends to lovers, alcohol intake, sexual content, p in v (protected). | Word count: 5k | Cross posted on AO3. | Series masterpost. ✧.*

General trigger warnings: This work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction and violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

I don't know how we ended up like that.

One moment we were fine, and the next we were drunk.

At some point, our brain cells had ceded control to the alcohol. We had lost all inhibition to the extent of finding ourselves in a situation from which, in other circumstances, we would have recoiled without giving it any second thought.

But this time, it was different, and I couldn't take my eyes off Lia, nor my body from hers.

We had started the night with a horror movie. We'd had dinner half an hour before and then settled into the studio with a bowl of popcorn and a couple of beers. For weeks now, I hadn't been in favor of Lia drinking, given her situation and her condition with alcohol, but it was Saturday night, we were alone, and we'd had a good day, especially Lia, who after weeks of not showing any sign of joy, had managed to smile and I'd even heard her laugh.

I had missed that sound, and every day that had gone by without it and that I'd had to endure seeing the reddened areas on Lia's skin had been days spent in a kind of banal Hell, only soothed by the knowledge that under our roof she was safe.

So we'd taken two beers back to the studio and had settled in on the pullout-sofa, which had remained open since I'd given Lia my room weeks before and I had moved into the studio. We had brought a few cushions from the living room and a couple of pillows from my bedroom.

Outside, a strong wind was blowing, but we didn't mind. However, the storm outside matched the mood that Lia and I had set up inside the room, where we lay sheltered under the LED lights and the scent of an incense stick that I had lit a while ago.

Halfway through the movie, Lia got up and stepped over my legs and hopped down to the floor. She told me she was going to get a bottle of water. She was only wearing the T-shirt I had lent her a few days before and it was huge on her. It was practically hers at this point. When she returned, she had a bottle of water clutched to her chest with one arm and two more bottles of beer in her hands. I looked at her disapprovingly, but I couldn't say no when she gave me that look with puppy dog eyes.

The second beer became a third, and the third, somehow I can't remember, became a fourth. And by then Lia was already under the influence of alcohol, and I was starting to feel sleepy and a little dizzy.

At some point, amidst the laughter that was overtaking us as we watched the movie that should have made us jump out of our seats and stop our hearts every random second, I noticed two glasses with half a finger of whiskey and an ice cube about to melt on the small table next to the couch. When had they gotten there?

When I asked Lia, she leaned forward to see what I meant. She shrugged, but her breath exuded the unmistakable smell of the same drink. She suggested, between funny gestures, that she would take them to the kitchen, as if that would get the drink out of our system, but as soon as she stood up on the mattress, she wobbled. I grabbed her calf, pressing my fingers into her skin. Lia, by inertia, grabbed onto my shoulders to stabilize herself, unsuccessfully. Her hair fell over my face. And finally, she fell on her ass in the same place where she had been sitting.

Two seconds later, her laughter flooded the studio. It took me a while to react. The part of me that still had my feet on the ground was telling me that I should be concerned and do something before Lia got worse. Since I had brought her home weeks before, she had been medicating herself practically every day to calm her restlessness and keep her nights from breaking down with nightmares of her being back at Mitch's house and her mother, a figure in the distance, reminding her that this was what she deserved, just as it had been with the women in her family before her. I hadn't behaved myself when it came to my drinking either. I feared that if I didn't do something, if I didn't stop her, Lia would continue down a path that rarely ended well. However, there was another voice in my head, the one that belonged to the part of me that had already succumbed to the alcohol that night, and I ended up bursting out laughing as well.

I let go of her leg. Lia said something about how hard I had grabbed her, and looked down at her calf, where there were now red marks where my fingers had been. Her hair was loose and tousled, but even through her locks you could see her smile fall, and for a moment I thought Lia would look at me with terror in her eyes and run away.

While the bruises on her arms and face had faded days ago, the scars were elsewhere on her body.

"What are you made of?" She asked then, taking me slightly by surprise.

I frowned and then raised my hands.

"I just wanted to keep you from falling flat on your face," I replied.

"That wasn't going to happen," she replied, a half-smile reappearing on her face.

"Of course it was."

Offended, she picked up the nearest cushion and threw it at me somewhat clumsily. It didn't hurt me, but I threw her an amused warning anyway.

"Hey!"

"I wouldn't have fallen face-first! I'm...!" She paused for a second, her eyes on mine, as if she had suddenly forgotten what she wanted to say. On the TV, where the movie was still playing, someone had just died, although the truth was that neither Lia nor I had been paying attention to the story for a while, and the sound was just background music. "I'm fine!"

"Oh, yeah? Prove it to me," I challenged her. I leaned back against the cushions on the headboard of the couch, and was tempted to cross one ankle over the other, but I didn't because I knew Lia was going to fall.

Grumbling, she braced herself with her hands on the mattress and made an effort to stand up. When I raised a hand to ready myself in case I had to catch her again, Lia pointed at me and told me not to even think about it.

Stubborn girl.

She struggled, and wobbled a few times, but managed to get to her feet and as she stood up there, she looked down at me with her chin raised and brought her hands to her hips, wrinkling the fabric of the t-shirt and making it ride up a tad, revealing more skin from her thighs. My eyes wandered there for less than a second. I couldn't stop smiling.

"See?" She muttered proudly.

"Very good," I replied, pouting my lips in acceptance. "Now get down from there and take those glasses to the kitchen."

See if you can do it.

I saw in her eyes that she was momentarily lost. She was blinking repeatedly.

"You underestimate me, pretty boy," she said haughtily, then. "I can do that and much more," she continued, raising a hand and pointing a finger to the sky.

I would have been lost in the thought of her looking adorable if it weren't for the fact that she was drunk, and that Lia was not the healthy, happy Lia I wanted to see.

"Which philosopher said that phrase about balance...? "

She was beginning to ramble. She scratched her chin.

I squinted at her from my position. Lia was looking around, as if the sentence she was trying to find in her brain was etched in some corner on the walls around us, in the room where the guys and I had so much stuff piled up, from various computer screens to guitars to countless wires and plastic vines that crossed from one end of a wall to another.

"The balance..." she said in a whisper. "The balance is perfect, I think. Or maybe... Wait."

"Lia..."

"No!" she exclaimed, raising a finger again, this time to stop me. She was off balance again, as the softness of the mattress and her inebriated state didn't match, and she made a couple of clumsy, automatic jumps to the end of the pullout-bed, inadvertently stomping on the TV remote and causing the TV to turn off.

My body immediately rose up. I grabbed her arm and pulled her up to keep her from finally going face-first onto the floor, and in doing so, I was the one who fell backwards. I took Lia with me, who let out a squeal as her body met mine. She lay on top of me, her chest against mine, and her legs over mine. She shifted until she was prostrate with her forearms resting on my chest. My hands found hold on her hips.

"I remember!" She exclaimed. Her eyes were wide open.

I couldn't remember what the hell we were doing, or what the plan had been that night. I felt dizzy and out of place. Lia's alcohol breath whipped over me, and it mingled with the vanilla scent of the shampoo she was using and that had found a place in my bathroom since she was living with us.

"'Perfectly baaaaaalanced, as all things should be.' It was Thanos who said it. We went to see the movie together at the cinema, remember?"

She smiled. She looked very comfortable on top of me.

I don't know how she was able to remember those things given her state.

I didn't give a damn who said what. I had long since stopped watching Marvel movies. The only thing I could focus on now was the light brown color of Lia's eyes, a lighter brown than mine and sometimes, depending on the angle of the light, turning the shade of sand at sunset on the beach. It was not only that that enchanted me. The closeness made me lose myself in the universe that was in her orbs, in the grandeur of them, the long, thick lashes that framed them and the flicker of them like the wings of a butterfly, the little wrinkle at the side corner that was pronounced every time she laughed, and the way Lia's gaze itself was softening.

Until I realized that she was looking at me as if she was feeling the same thing I was feeling.

A minute before, we had been looking at each other with the confidence we had always looked at each other with. Two friends enjoying an evening together. A good movie and a bowl of popcorn. Nothing more.

Now, there was something else that hadn't been there before, (or maybe it had been... but I had tried to keep hidden for both our sakes).

Whatever we had been discussing had been forgotten. It had been lost in some corner of the room until it had managed to escape through some slot leading to the outside and had mingled with the wind increasing in the streets.

That amusement and yet confusion that had been present in Lia's eyes had dissipated. What was in them was now unfamiliar to me, but at the same time almost well-known.

Her gaze had always been my shelter, although this time, what seemed different was that Lia looked at me as if....

She looked at me as if she had had me in front of her all her life but hadn't noticed; as if she had just found something she had been looking for for years; as if she had been given her breath back even though for a few moments we both held our breath when our faces met mere centimeters from each other.

As the maddening beat of her heart softened, her light breathing intertwined with mine. I could feel against my chest the rise and fall of her own; how it slowed as our smiles fell and our gazes met in an instant that hung in time.

Lia's eyes dropped for an imperceptible second.

They looked at my lips.

Hers parted.

It didn't go unnoticed to my gaze because my eyes also went to her mouth.

My hands were resting on her hips, her hair falling on the sides of my face, and the thought that crossed my mind at that instant was that I wanted to have her lying under me, her hair spread out on the sheets like a pile of silk, and my fingers itched as I wanted to reach out and touch her face, her cheeks that were burning from the alcohol and the commotion we had formed in the room minutes prior.

I sensed her hands seeking support on my chest, her fingers wanting to cling to the fabric of my black t-shirt, which clung to my skin as her fingers began to press gently. It was as if she wanted to pull me closer to her without giving it all away, as if she wanted to make me believe that maybe it was just my imagination.

The more daring part of me was the part that made me roll on top of her to have her where and how I wanted her. Lia held her breath. It was only two seconds.

One of my legs was between hers, and my knee was very close to her groin. Lia was only wearing my T-shirt, which was huge on her, but in that position, and having fallen on the couch and now having me on top of her, the fabric had slipped up her stomach and the only thing separating the wettest part of her body from my knee was the fabric of her panties and the fabric of my sweatpants.

The thought nearly made me lose my temper. I felt dazed and weak-willed, (at least in regards to the kind of will that made me make sound decisions), and I cursed myself for allowing myself to drink so much; for allowing her to drink so many beers that night and not even have the memory of watching her pour us two glasses of whiskey on the rocks up to the top.

My vision blurred for a few seconds. As it cleared again, I saw a gleam in Lia's eyes that hadn't been there before. Outside, the wind was rushing, swaying tree branches and blowing objects around the yard and down the street. It was as if the chaos we had created between the two of us inside the house had been replicated outside, and the exhilaration I felt inside me was also a reflection of what was happening outside. The sky had been cloudy for hours, and soon it would start to rain.

I didn't care, because at that moment, all I wanted was to be petrified, with Lia under my body, her huge eyes locked on me, her breath attuned to mine, her vanilla scent flooding every one of my senses, enveloping me, and the slight flicker of her eyelashes making me lose the last ounce of sanity I had left.

Lia slightly flexed one of her legs. Her whole body reacted. I don't know if it was on purpose or if it was unconscious. My knee brushed against her crotch. The next thing I saw was her tongue moistening her lower lip. I felt her hands press hard against my back, press me to her, and then she raised her head a little and her mouth caught mine.

The flare of fire she ignited shot through me from head to toe, and before I could reconcile how dangerous that was, what we were doing and under what conditions, my hands were already on her face, on her cheeks, in her hair, and my mouth devouring hers as if outside there was a hurricane and we didn't know if we would ever see the sun again.

At least I was aware that without Lia there was no sun, and after that night, I was sure there wouldn't be either if I didn't have her like that, trapped under my body, at my mercy, surrendering herself. Her kisses were desperate, as if she had just reached the surface of a sea in which she had been drowning. I kissed her hard, returning the same passion that seemed to run through her veins. I was aware that it was probably the alcohol, but she couldn't talk sense into me. I preferred to believe that Lia was the one in control, that she was the one who wanted me there, my body pressed to hers as the wind became increasingly aggressive outside, my mouth on hers.

I slid one hand up to the back of her head, to the nape of her neck, and raised it a little so I could make the kiss deeper, cocking my head to the side at the same time. My tongue brushed against hers, and once they touched, there was no turning back, and our breathing became ragged and labored. Little exhales began to escape from her mouth, tiny noises in which her body begged for air but to which she refused to pay attention, and as the seconds, or minutes, passed, the exhales turned to moans, and the choked sound of them almost made me lose my mind.

Despite the alcohol, Lia had to be aware of what she was doing. She had to be aware of how much she was turning me on, of the hardness that was crescendoing in my pants and would soon press hard between her legs.

Fuck.

Her hands moved desperately up and down my body. They went from my back to my neck, to my face, to my hair. Then they sought the warmth under my shirt, and an electric current coursed through me as her fingers stroked the skin of my back and rib area. I shivered, and almost jerked as her body pressed tighter against mine. This time I was sure it had been on purpose. My erection slapped the spot between her legs and Lia gasped over my mouth, eyes closed. I grunted as I saw her expression. A surge of pleasure had just swept across her face, and I could hardly believe it.

If it continued like this, it would make me lose consciousness, and I didn't want, being with her, to unleash that primal version of me that sometimes emerged when I was on stage and that people loved in my voice and in the movements of my body. I didn't want to be that person with Lia despite the number of images that began to fill my head.

She started pulling my shirt up, and I let her take it off me, shaking it off to get rid of it as it went over my head and down my arms. The two seconds our mouths spent apart felt like forever, and when I was naked from the waist up, I descended on Lia again vehemently, holding her face, my fingers tangling in her hair. I moved my body so that I was completely over hers. My erection throbbed in my pants, and it was beginning to ache from being held under the fabric of my underwear and sweatpants.

Unable to restrain myself despite the voice telling me to stop and get away from Lia, I slipped a hand under Lia's shirt, my own t-shirt, the one she had appropriated days before and had been torturing me with day and night, every time she walked around the house showing off her legs and revealing the curve of her ass every time she stood on her tiptoes to reach the cups and the tea boxes in the kitchen cabinets.

Damn you, Lia.

Her skin was soft, and I sensed it bristle under the touch of my fingers. When I reached for her bra, I slipped my fingers under the seam until I reached her breast and felt under my fingertips the feel of her nipple, which became hard as a pebble. Lia let out a moan into my mouth, and when I pinched her, her nails dug into the skin of my lower back, making me feel a pain that pleased me.

Lia's body was tiny under mine, and I didn't want it any other way. I could lie to myself all I wanted in the daylight and tell myself the opposite over and over again, but Lia was made for me.

And I was made for her.

The next morning her lips would be dry and sore, but I had no intention of stopping kissing her as long as her lips sought me out.

I played with her nipple between my fingers, enraptured by the little noises coming from her mouth. When she pulled her head back and rubbed against my erection, I attacked her neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin there. There were so many things I wanted to say to her... The voice in my head wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her, tell her that I was going crazy and that we shouldn't be doing that, that we were each other's best friend, that we had promised....

As I kissed her on the neck and branded her, I considered the semantics of our promise. We had promised we wouldn't fall in love with each other, but we had never talked about sex, and people had sex all the time without being in love.

Keep hiding it as much as you want, Noah....

I shifted my hips toward Lia to quiet the voice drilling me, and let myself go.

I thought I heard my name on her lips. A whisper. A moan. Her hands dug into the band of my sweatpants, and pressed the skin of my ass, drawing me to her.

We would only stop under one circumstance, and that was if Lia decided she didn't want to go forward.

Because I definitely did.

One of Lia's hands slid down the side of my hip and groped the front of my waist. She hastily unbuttoned the knot of my sweats, and probably would have slipped her hand inside without preamble had I not neglected her nipple and grabbed instead her wrist, stopping her.

I lifted my head. Lia opened her eyes, and what I saw in them did not please me.

I was afraid that wasn't my Lia there.

"Lia," my voice escaped hoarse and raspy from my throat. I was trying to catch my breath, my sanity and my willpower. It was too much, and Lia's body was still under mine, clinging to mine, soft and warm. Lia's eyes darkened, her lips moist, and her cheeks flushed.

I could have told her anything, reminded her that we were two friends about to cross a line from which there was no return, that she was drunk, that I was a little way too tipsy, and that my head was spinning and I was scared.

Instead, I asked her if she was sure, and her answer was my undoing.

"I've been waiting for this my whole life."

I kissed her fiercely, as if I couldn't breathe without her. I told her to give me a minute. I stood up and walked out of the studio, stumbling over my own feet and bumping into the wall on the way to the bedroom. Everything seemed different around me, and as soon as I entered my room I had to stop for a few seconds and lean against a piece of furniture to remember what I was doing there. I walked over to the nightstand on my side of the bed. The fact that I already saw my bed as a shared place with Lia should have set off alarm bells days ago, but I hadn't wanted to assume that, because I liked that one side was hers, that her things were on the other nightstand, her smell on the pillow.

The boys were right. How long it would take for me to acknowledge it in front of them, I didn't know.

I opened the bottom drawer and rummaged through the shit I had stored there until I found what I was looking for. Just before I left the room, I heard Lia grow impatient. Her voice carried down the hallway and reaching my ears, almost making me laugh despite my state.

"Noowaaah!"

There it was, that stupid and adorable way of calling me since she was six years old.

"I'm here," I replied as I returned to the studio, trying to keep my balance. I had to put on a fucking condom and I had to do it right. At least that had to be done right.

Lia was propped up on her elbows, and looked at me with eyes full of impatience and lust. There was, at the same time, something childish in them, as if by leaving for those thirty seconds I had taken a toy away from her.

I glanced at her from under my eyelashes. Seeing her there, waiting for me, rubbing her thighs because there was no other way to satiate the heat she felt between them, had me on the verge of bursting.

I got rid of my sweats and boxers, and when my cock jumped into Lia's view I saw her eyes widen even more if possible, darken, and her lips part. She was killing me. I opened the condom wrapper and put the rubber on, and it didn't take two seconds before I was back on the mattress. Lia dropped down, submitting, her hair creating a halo around her. She let out a little cry of surprise when I grabbed her below the knees.

"Come here," I said.

I pulled her a little towards me, and hooked my fingers into the sides of her panties to pull them off.

Lia was fucking gorgeous, and I don't know what I'd expected, or what I'd imagined, but she was a gift I'd held in my hands forever and hadn't dared to unwrap.

I lay on top of her. Her hands went to my shoulders, to my hair, and she pushed me by the nape of my neck so that I would kiss her again.

My cock brushed against her entrance. She was wet. Soaking wet. I rubbed against her repeatedly, slowly, feeling her, reveling in the heat emanating from her and how slippery she was. If only the latex barrier hadn't been there... I needed to find out if her insides were just as slippery in the next sixty seconds or I would die right there.

She spread her legs further apart, giving me access, and I moved my hips slightly away to position myself at her entrance. I held my cock with one hand and stopped kissing her to direct my gaze to the point where our bodies were about to merge. Lia clung to one of my shoulders. I pushed. She held her breath, her chest swelling against mine. I looked at her again, and as I sank into her, I wordlessly begged her not to look away from me. I wanted to be a bystander in how her pupils dilated, how her lips parted, how she held back the first moan of our union and then let it escape as she relaxed and settled into my length, into the sensation of having me inside her. Her muscles molded to mine so quickly that I considered whether everything we had been through boiled down to the fact that we were meant for each other.

From the time I had found her that spring morning sitting on the sidewalk in front of her ramshackle house to the time I had saved her from that bastard Mitch while I was battling an unknown disease, and every single thing that had happened in between, had led to that moment, to Lia and I lying on the sofa bed in the house I shared with Jolly and Jessie, naked, drunk, and lost in our own and each other's pleasure.

I was delusional, but at that moment I didn't want to think about any other possibility. I didn't want to think about tomorrow, about the time when Lia would wake up and the alcohol would have dissipated in her veins, when she would realize that she had allowed me to sink into her and that we had both touched heaven when we cum. First her, and then me, following her to a peak from which I never wanted to descend.

When I started to move, I wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the pleasure that made me almost lose consciousness. I remember Lia's body under mine, trying to move in sync with mine, the moans escaping her mouth and sneaking into my ears as her hands caressed my arms and back. I remember my name on her lips, and how that was a drug I knew I couldn't live with if I didn't take it again soon.

Although a part of Lia was far from there, Lia was everything I had dreamed of. Those dreams where I had crossed the line and imagined what it would be like to feel Lia naked under my hands, trembling with my fingers inside her, with my tongue caressing her most erogenous parts, had been close to reality, but this was so much better. When she asked me to go faster, I replied with a "shh" in her ear. I pulled her hand away from my back and moved her arm until I held it above her head. I intertwined the fingers of our hands and continued to torture her in a leisurely, delicious rhythm, my face sinking into her neck, feeling the caress of her hair on the side of my face.

We didn't last long, and the last thing I remember was lying on top of Lia, in her arms, both of us trying to catch our breath, and hearing her little laugh sneaking under my skin. Her fingers touched my hair, and I think I fell asleep to her caresses.

#noah sebastian #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian x ofc #bad omens fic #noah sebastian fanfiction

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weirdwriter69 · 1 year

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Kiss Me Goodnight

Will comforts the reader after they wake up from a bad nightmare. Fandom: Ikemen Vampire Rating: G Tags: Fluff, Nightmares, Comfort, First Person Word Count: 1,433

Tossing and turning in my sleep, I snap awake from my nightmares. I find myself in a familiar place. Will’s favorite soft silk sheets are beneath me, and I carefully turn over to see him sleeping next to me. I sit up in the bed, trying to clear my head. I can’t recall what exactly happened in my nightmare, but it made me feel absolutely terrified like I had been swallowed by a black abyss, never to escape. I take a deep breath and try to lay back down.

A few moments later, my body viciously shakes me awake. I am forced to lay awake once again, but this time, Will stirs awake. A soft sigh escapes from his lips before he stretches and grunts. He isn’t sure what awoke him. Regardless, he puts his arm back around me, signaling me to lay back down and curl up next to him. I easily do as I am told. Pressing my ear against his chest, I love hearing the rhythmic thumping of his heart. He mumbles in his sleeping voice, “What happened, my precious one?”

I quickly whisper, “Nothing, just nightmares again.”

His discolored eyes flick open as he becomes fully alert. His glaze focuses on me. “What haunts thou at such a late hour? The only thought that should stuff our small heads is the blessed silence of sleep or if we are lucky, the holy land of dreams, but never shall thou be cursed with nightmares, not under my roof nor under my arm.”

His sweet poetic words carry the truth, yet they are far from it. I find myself haunted by my past. I left my time period so long ago; however, my past or the upcoming future taints my every waking moment.

I have spent the last three years with Will after moving out of Comte’s mansion. I decided on a whim to give up on my dream of getting my Ph.D. in America. Well, it was never my dream. It was some idea passed down onto by my parents. I was halfway through my bachelor’s when I went to study aboard one summer in Paris, and I followed a strange man through a time traveling door. The rest is history.

I do not regret my choice. I am much better off here than I was there. My passion has always been in the arts, and Will recognized that. He saw my love for creative writing and acting. Under his wing, I became a successful actor in his troupe, and I have even begun writing manuscripts for stories of my own.

Right now, it does not make sense why the past haunts me so. I should be happy and carefree with everything that has happened to me. I am with the man of my dreams for Christ’s sake, yet some part of me feels as if I am burden in this time period. Will often joking teases me that I am not fit for this time. Even after three consecutive years in the nineth century, I still stick out like a sore thumb.

I look up to Will. “It’s nothing now. I can’t recall what even happened.”

He stares at me for a moment longer to look at the truth within my eyes. His expression relaxes while he gently strokes my cheek. “There is a cloud behind thine irises. A rainy day, no matter how small, can still ruin a party, and the last thing I wish is for thee to be tortured by the pains and chills of harsh rain. I want thee to suffer no storm alone,” Will whispers to me.

His ostentatious words convey his care. Before I can form a reply, he sighs and hugs me, “If words cannot depict the horrors within your fragile mind, relax into me, my darling.”

“I think… it was a nightmare about my past. People were upset and angry with me that I left everything on the flip of a dime. They demanded that I return all the happiness I somehow stole from them. There was a points system and everything. It didn’t make much sense. Heh, my university was after me as well because of my unpaid tuition I still owe them,” I carefully pieced together what was bothering me, “Look, I don’t regret staying at all, but sometimes, I can’t help but wonder what is happening back in the future. Other times, I worry about what would have happened to me if I choose to go home or if I didn’t have the wonderful opportunity to meet you and all the other residents at the mansion.”

Will sympathetically nods, “Please do not fear what is no longer reality. I know it is one thing to say and another thing to do. I am glad that thou stayed in a realm different from thine own; however, I understand that it seems like a sacrifice on nights like this. Thou owe no one any emotion nor are thou required to pay debts with points and trials.”

I stare at the blank ceiling as the room is swallowed into a shallow silence broken by soft breathing. The words fall to come to my lips, but I let out a small chuckle, “yeah, I just worry. I worry a lot over the small reasons regardless of if they are real or not, ya know that. Heh, this reminds me of the first nightmare I had coming here about a vampire who bite me, and Sebastian warned me not to give anyone my heart or my destiny.”

Will follows along with the story. “I do recall someone running off in fear, and that is how I found the beauty in front of me. Time is a collection of random tragedies and comedies, my dear. Nothing ends how we want it to, but all’s well that ends well. As thou hast seen, time travelers are not free from the hands of chance and fate. Thou did not give up thine heart nor destiny; instead, thou followed thine heart and destiny.”

A smile slips across my face. “Thank you, Will, for being here and being there for me. I know it’s hard for you to grasp the reality we live in as well. You woke up from the 1600’s and got thrown two hundred years into the future while for me, it was getting tossed two hundred years in the past. Two sides of the same coin of troubles you might say. Forgive my ramblings, but I deeply appreciate you, Will.”

I lightly tap his nose. “In fact, I love you,” I tease him as I echo the same words he has heard over and over again, but I still mean it just as strongly as when I said it to him the first time. He pinches my nose in return. “I love you too, Juliet”

“You prick!” I jokingly yelp at him while softly smacking him with my pillow, “If we are but a fleeting, teenage romance to you… well, I- I… I don’t have a comeback for the Bard of Avon.”

He sticks out his tongue while laughing. “Like Romeo, I was at death’s door for my love, but unlike the fool who plays with the strings of love, I came to you because I heard the music. My words utter no false ills. Our romance was not the end of us. It was a new beginning in a new era.”

I can never match his mythical language, but I could quote his works back at him. “If music be the food of love, play on.”

Will puts on a fox’s smile, “a writer should know better than to quote another author so blandly. Thou did not do the line the justice it so rightfully deserves, but alas the adorable look you wear makes it worth it.”

I completely forgot that I woke up because of a nightmare. Will had his magical way of distracting me. Exhaustion sank into my bones as the moonlight came through the window. I settled down, pulling the covers back up.

Will pouts, “I may be a tease, but I wish thou would kiss me goodnight.”

I hold his warm cheek in my hand, and I press my lips gently on his forearm. “Goodnight, William. May the land of sleep bring thou dreams instead of nightmares plagued by false lies and promises. Tomorrow, we will wake up to a new day, but for now, we must rest.”

He steals a kiss from my lips. “Now, this bard can sleep happily with his love in his arms forever more.”

#cybird ikemen #ikemen vampire #ikemenvamp #ikevamp will #ikevamp #ikemenvampire will #ikemenvamp william #first pov #fanfiction #ikemen vampire fanfiction #ikemenvamp fanfic #comfort fic #fluff

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actuallylorelaigilmore · 1 year

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Tagged by: Fave of faves @bethanyactually--and usually I save every post I'm tagged in to (at least theoretically) do later, but since I actually have returned to watching and listening to things lately, I'm gonna do this one right now.

Last song: Like You Do by Josh Ramsay. And Christian Kane's cover of Fast Car, both of which were recced to me by Leander, who knew I should hear them. But also, while I haven't listened to any of it since Tuesday, I woke up with the Daisy Jones and The Six soundtrack playing in my head...just like it has been ever since I originally started watching the series. Today it's mostly been The River featuring Simone, Regret Me, and More Fun To Miss. I know enough of the lyrics now for the soundtrack to be my constant mental radio as I go about my day.

Currently watching: Nancy Drew S2 (I'm 4 episodes in and enjoying it a lot), Schmigadoon S2 (I've seen half of it and it's still fantastic and I'm bummed I only have 3 episodes to go) and today I'm about to start my Good Omens rewatch so I can head into the new season full of S1 feels. Because my best friend is literally the best, I'm also partly through a DJATS rewatch with Leander seeing it for the first time--making that my favorite thing I am watching right now.

Currently reading: Nightwork by Nora Roberts (I'm about halfway through it and have been borrowing it from @actuallylukedanes forever and I feel very bad about that! I will finish it! I'm also partly through How to Raise an Antiracist by Ibram X. Kendi, also on loan from Leander. And before that, I was (and remain) partway through literally 20 other ebooks of all kinds--most recently Zero Fail: The Rise and Fall of the Secret Service by Carol Leonnig. There's a ton of great nonfiction that I already have on my tablet and know I'll enjoy cuz I'm that kind of geek...I just rarely read anymore because reading time is time I'm not spending with my millions of other hobbies.

Current obsession: As referenced above, Daisy Jones and The Six, which I am so so happy Leander is watching with me--both helping me get it out of my system a little and letting me indulge even more in my love of it. After we watched it on Wednesday, I was able to listen to something that wasn't the soundtrack for the first time, so I just may be able to dial this obsession down to manageable levels at some point. But GUYS IT'S SO GOOD. I want to gif it as soon as I get back to Photoshop and I kind of want to read the book, when I didn't before. I just want to burrow into the world and live there, and I haven't felt that way in quite a while, about anything. (It's made it harder to engage with other things, which is why I originally was going to add Ted Lasso's completed final season to my week along with Nancy Drew and Schmigadoon, but ended up not doing so because my head and heart are full of DJATS right now. But I missed this feeling, too, so I'm happy to be in love again.)

No-pressure tagging: @actuallylukedanes, @jicklet, @jakeperalta, @beturass, @hondagirll, @mythologicalmango, @dollsome-does-tumblr, @anextrapart, @sentichefuoripiove, @robbiedaymonds and anybody else who wants to do this.

#actuallylukedanes #i have the best best friend #daisy jones and the six #christian kane #bethanyactually #josh ramsay #the river #regret me #more fun to miss #nancy drew #schmigadoon #good omens #nightwork #nora roberts #ibram x. kendi #how to raise an antiracist #zero fail: the rise and fall of the secret service #carol leonnig #tag games

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vampirecatsw · 2 years

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Intro and My Links

(for mobile + other users)

Hi, My name is Cyn, it's nice to meet you! Call me Cyn or Sol. My pronouns are he/him ^-^

THIS BLOG IS NOT SPOILER FREE

I'm a blatant kaishin shipper and proshipper, so scram if you're offended. Block me and go back to your lives. You don't even need to see my face, and I don't want to see you.

You might have seen me around Ao3 as secret_werewolves, leaving little comments on everyone's works~

I live in Australia and my birthday is the 18th of April. Don't worry, you don't need to send anything for it!

I like to lurk around discord servers, fandoms, devour fanfictions, and reblog things. My main fandom is Detective Conan / Magic Kaito, although I do explore some other ones.

I sometimes draw too, but since life has gotten very hectic recently, I'm taking things slower

FEEL FREE TO SEND ME ASKS ABOUT AUS, OCS OR ANYTHING. I'D BE GLAD TO ANSWER THEM!!!

My Art (Tumblr tag): https://vampirecatsw.tumblr.com/tagged/cyn%20draws

New!!: My new art blog yay! https://cyndraws.tumblr.com

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secret_werewolves Fanfiction.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/10181337/ Deviantart: https://www.deviantart.com/secret-werewolves

My tags:

#cyn draws -> my art. I might also use #my art

#cyn talks / cyn speaks -> not much of a distinction since I often tag both. But cyn talks is for chatting, and cyn speaks is for original posts.

#cyn answers -> answering asks

Usually first name, last name for characters

#fic recs -> fic recs! Feel free to also browse my ao3 bookmarks or links on my fanfiction.net profile

#transmigrator kaito au -> my own au! I post under this tag (on both accounts, so click 'see all of tumblr'). Feel free to check out the link below and to follow the tag <3

This seems pretty popular so I'll put this here too. If I find another fic, I'll update it in this post. Happy reading~

Kaito pov/Kaito centric fanfic recommendations list:

Planned future projects:

Start writing fanfics hahaha. First I gotta get over my self esteem and start writing planssss. I do admire everyone who writes, but I really don't want to run out of steam halfway through projects. And if I'm gonna write, I wanna get into the habit of planning! It also allows for tiny details to be hinted in later, super satisfying >v<

Rn I'm super busy with uni so aaaa they might take a while

WIP Ideas in my brain, may or may not be actually posted. But definitely feel free to ask me questions about them!

Please send asks, I'm actually begging like please

- Kirby oc + anime au! (i have a series of monstrous documents with meticulous detail, it's getting ridiculous at this point adfghj. But I do need to watch the anime first). I have somehow ended up making an entire au around an oc haha. I'm taking some inspiration from other fandoms and fanworks.

- Dcmk oc/self inserts/transmigration aus (Shinichi/Conan, Kaito, detective boys, maybe some others. We need more of these in this fandom)

- Kaito transmigration au (Kaishin, platonic or romantic not decided yet)

https://vampirecatsw.tumblr.com/tagged/transmigrator%20kaito%20au

Inspired by 'Entirely Out of Spite' by Bgtea, a Genshin fanfic. Would highly recommend! https://archiveofourown.org/works/30349320/chapters/74816049 And also "Scum Villain Self-Saving System" too, since EOoS is inspired by it in turn. I'm crying since writing is just Not Happening XDDD The funniest thing about this au is Kaito being extra giddy to meet Shin/Cone and being a fanboy in general

Kaitou / phantom thief oc Look he just slaps, idk how to explain XD

Ok, bye! Hope everyone is doing well! I'm going back to work now because uni is using me like its ragdoll in those flash games lol

#links #cyn talks

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dontcallpanic · 2 months

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I was tagged by the lovely, beautiful souls @oldefashioned and @gege-wondering-around to share the receiptify for the past month and, fair warning, this is more unhinged than usual.

Wait, let me explain:

I read Heart as black as night (which was amazing) https://archiveofourown.org/works/939054/chapters/1829660 and then I read We gotta hide what we're doin' https://archiveofourown.org/works/15961844 Which was equally amazing and this combined reignited my love of 1920's mafia fics/ mafia fics in general. For this song, I already loved the original (which I think was the theme for the Sopranos) and this remix just grabbed me, I like the added gospel chior elements!

I had a roadtrip with my best friend/co-pilot and fellow Sterek shipper. This song was on repeat while driving through torrential rain to find a cabin halfway up a hill. We were trying to see how many sterek fics we could create from this one song. I think we got up to 15.

This one is just good to listen to, especially while packing. I love the attitude.

My kiddo LOVES cars (rally cars in particular) and has recently discovered Cars the films and therefore Nascar. Through both Cars and Nascar he has discovered country music. Once he finds a song he likes, it gets played on repeat.

See above.

This is two Scottish Gaelic folk songs together - It's quite different from Welsh so I've no idea what the lyrics are but I'm pretty sure one of the songs is about porridge. Either way, the second song is my favourite and I LOVE Julie Fowlis.

Okay so... I have been distracting myself while packing by thinking up Sterek AU's. This song sparked one of them. I mean I do love this song (I think the music arrangement is fantastic and totaly cinematic) but... Okay so my AU is a Fallout esq setting, lots of sand, americana etc and Derek drives an old pickup truck. For this song he's travelling around, trying to set up communication networks, fighting monsters etc (while being a monster himself) and while he's on the road he finds himself falling in love with the mysterious DJ, Stiles, who he hears on his radio as he travels place to place, setting up the communication systems for him.

This one was stolen from @oldefashioned writing playlist and I genuinely have played this on repeat SO much. I love how haunting (and haunted) it is! Thanks for sharing your playlist all those months ago!

This song follows me! I didn't even think I'd played it that much but hey! It's a classic. My gramps used to play this style of music on his guitar when I was little and when I learned to play the violin I was desperate to play like him, but I wasn't allowed. Later one of my frends, who taught dance, convinced me to do belly dancing with her and this was one of the songs! Either way, it always makes me smile when it comes on!

Not listened to this one since I was a teen! It's SO dramatic but I still love it (the guitar solo!). It's tied to the violin playing because I couldn't play gypsy jazz or folk or anything I wanted to play. I had to play classical so this was my small rebellion at the time. I used to practice trying to play this instead of whatever I'd been asked to play (could never get the ending right!) and I got kicked out of a string quartet because of it. No regrets! - and obviously I am still trying to figure out the Sterek Au to go with it. Something to do with haunted woods, the hunt, lots of snow and blood.

#unhinged music recs #shameless explanations #Listen at your own risk #have fun!#Thanks so much for the tags!#I hope you have fun with this one #sending you both so much love!#nice things for nice people #nice tags #tag games #music #a little bit of all sorts #personal

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tabsterfm · 2 years

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Ventured into the Now Known: Settling Down in Blogtopia

So, I've been on Tumblr for about three or so days now, and honestly, it fucking rocks. I'm sorry if this sounds offensive to anybody who hates when people compare the two platforms, but Twitter and Tumblr are more alike than I ever thought. Like, I've always known Tumblr as "the blogging one" or "the alternative art-sharing site to DA" when it came to generalizing the "main" social medias out there, but it's more like "Twitter but it's unleashed it's full potential". No word limit or media limit (that I know of), a good tagging system, customizable pages, better "follow this account" recommendations and "for you" page, and probably more pros that are escaping me at the moment.

Honestly, thinking about it, I really regret wasting all my time on Twitter as my main social media for years and years and years- I just felt like I coulda done more here. Like, I've always loved to write, yet I kept myself stuck in one of the worst platforms for that kind of thing. I mean, I like making shitposty and short-form commentary on specific, niche things, but on here I could have done that AND the more longer "blog-like" things I'd like to do. I feel like Tumblr is also just the more friendly social media of the two (duh). Like, in ALL of my years on Twitter, I don't think I've made a single friend on through it. Granted, I stopped replying to other people's posts halfway through my time on Twitter for whatever reason I did that, but I feel like if I started on here, I woulda tried to, and maybe become, more sociable- maybe make a friend or two based on my hobbies or things I like, something like that. Hell, the literal reason I was drawn away from this site when I was much younger was because I didn't know how to view comments on a post or how to even make them. If only I stuck around just a little bit longer, I probably woulda figured it out and would be a Tumblr vet instead of a Twitter one, but I guess everyone has to make shitty decisions in their lives eventually.

So, moving forward, I want to prioritize more of my time on here- not just because Twitter is going down the shitter, but I just like it here more. I'm still in that adjusting period where I'm still trying to see if I can find some of the main-stays of my Twitter timeline on here/having a more active timeline in general and customizing everything to my liking, but once I'm done unpacking, I'm gonna have a banger time here, I just know it. I'll also try and see if I can be a little more sociable when it's applicable, so we'll see how that turns out.

P.S. Is it polite to make a comment on (more specifically art/original content) Reblogs? I know that on Twitter, Quote Retweets are treated as their own "original" posts that can siphon attention from the actual original post, and I'm not sure if Reblogs work the same way or not.

#Tabster Says #twitter migration #thoughts

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luvjjongtae · 2 years

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By the Time We're Thirty - Ch. 1

Pairing: Kim Jonghyun x Kim Kibum.

AU info: After college/university AU. Non-idols AU.

Genre: Fluff, Pining

Other tags and warnings: Drinking, College roommates, Reconnecting, Deal to get married

Summary:

“If we don’t have anyone by the time we’re thirty, why don’t we marry each other?”

Jonghyun smiled warmly and said carefully, “Kibum you’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.” He reached over to gently pull Kibum’s hands away from his hair.

“Jjong, please. It’s a good idea, you know it! Swear on it,” Kibum whined.

Jonghyun was silent for a moment. Then he sighed and responded, “Sure, if it ever gets to that.” Another pause. “But why me?”

“I don’t know,” Kibum said, finally reaching forward to sip his beer. Jonghyun quickly snatched it away. So instead, Kibum leaned his head on Jonghyun’s shoulder and continued. “I just kind of feel like we’re soulmates in a sense. Not that I like you that way. But, you’re my best friend. It’d be easy. Soulmates that way, you know?” Kibum didn’t even know what he was saying at this point, just that Jonghyun’s shoulder was warm and comfy and his eyes were drooping.

“…Yeah. I do know.”

Total Word Count: 20k (divided into 3 chapters)

Note: Quick note that all the members are the same age here.

“That asshole made a mistake dumping me. I’m going to get so fucking hot, he’ll regret it so bad,” Taemin slurred as Kibum dragged him through their apartment front door.

“Taemin, you need to sleep before you can ‘get hot,’” Kibum said as gently as he could at 3 AM with alcohol churning in his own system.

“He dumped me,” Taemin repeated, ignoring Kibum who was struggling to carry Taemin’s weight into his room. “He fucking dumped me after two years.” His voice cracked and Kibum panicked that he would start crying again. He didn’t know how to handle it the first time either.

“Uh, let’s just get you all nice and snug in bed and you can forget about him tonight. How does that sound?” Kibum tried.

“But– but what if I dream of him?” Taemin drunkenly wailed. Kibum slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle it and frantically looked around the dark apartment to see if any of their roommates had woken up. After a beat of silence, Kibum released a breath and continued dragging Taemin to his room.

“Look how cozy your bed looks!” Kibum shoved Taemin face-first onto his mattress and helped him take off his shoes. “Now remember to sleep on your side, okay?” Kibum said as he tucked him in as neatly as he could in his own drunken state.

“Thanks, Kibum,” Taemin mumbled under his comforter pathetically. “Sorry for all the trouble.”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Just get some sleep,” Kibum said comfortingly, ruffling up Taemin’s hair. He left Taemin’s room with a deep sigh but startled suddenly when he bumped into a shadow in the living room. Squinting in the darkness, he made out the shape of Jonghyun. “Oh, Jjong. It’s just you.”

“I heard Taeminnie. Is he okay?” Jonghyun asked sleepily, looking behind Kibum towards Taemin’s bedroom door.

“Yeah, he’ll be fine. I should’ve kept a better eye on him at the bar but he kind of disappeared on me,” Kibum said with an eye roll.

“What about you?”

“I’m just a bit buzzed. Nothing I can’t handle,” Kibum smirked.

Jonghyun narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You have a beer bottle in your hand,” he pointed out.

“Huh,” Kibum blinked. He didn’t remember taking this all the way back from the bar. Lifting it up and inspecting it in the dark, he figured it was about halfway through. “Well, want to finish it together?”

“Kibum, it’s 3 AM. We both have 10 AM classes tomorrow,” Jonghyun said with a laugh, turning back towards his room. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“C’mon,” Kibum whined, reaching forward to grab Jonghyun's wrist. But he must’ve miscalculated the distance to reach Jonghyun because instead he just crashed into his back. “Ow,” he said, wobbling as he backed away.

Jonghyun spun around and steadied Kibum by holding both his shoulders. “See? And you’re already pretty drunk.”

“No, no, I promise I’m okay!” Kibum said, blinking away the dizziness. “Please, just stay with me a bit longer?”

Jonghyun’s eyes softened and he gave Kibum a small nod. He led them to the couch and they sat next to each other as Kibum eyed the beer bottle Jonghyun took from him and carefully placed it on the coffee table in front of them. He wanted another sip but knew that Jonghyun wouldn’t let him right away.

“So Taeminnie got dumped, huh?” Jonghyun said suddenly, cutting through the silence of the night.

“Mhm,” Kibum said with a nod. “After two years and everything.”

“Damn,” Jonghyun whispered out.

Kibum sighed deeply. And loudly. “Just–” he started. Even in the darkness, Kibum knew that Jonghyun was looking at him, listening to him intently, like he always did. “Dating is so fucking hard.”

“Because of what happened to Taeminnie?”

“No, in general,” Kibum said with another frustrated sigh. “Taemin got dumped over text after two years. Jinki is forever single. And I haven’t even gone on a date this entire year. We always end up in the same place. Just drunk in the middle of the night.”

“That’s not true. Dating can be nice,” Jonghyun said softly. “Especially in the beginning.”

“I just think people suck.” Kibum ran a hand through his messy hair, tugging on it as he pouted. But then an idea occurred to him. A genius, brilliant idea. He lit up immediately and turned excitedly to look back at Jonghyun. “I know! If we don’t have anyone by the time we’re thirty, why don’t we marry each other? That way, we avoid all the hard dating stuff.”

Jonghyun smiled warmly and said carefully, “Kibum you’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.” He reached over to gently pull Kibum’s hands away from his hair.

“Jjong, please. It’s a good idea, you know it! Swear on it,” Kibum whined as he squeezed Jonghyun’s hands.

Jonghyun was silent for a moment. Then he sighed and responded, “Sure, if it ever gets to that.” Another pause. “But why me?”

“I don’t know,” Kibum said, finally reaching forward to sip his beer. Jonghyun quickly snatched it away. So instead, Kibum leaned his head on Jonghyun’s shoulder and continued. “I just kind of feel like we’re soulmates in a sense. Not that I like you that way. But…you’re my best friend. It’d be easy. Soulmates that way, you know?” Kibum didn’t even know what he was saying at this point, just that Jonghyun’s shoulder was warm and comfy and his eyes were drooping.

“…Yeah. I do know.”

. . .

Kim Kibum always woke up early.

It was his routine. Wake up at 6 AM, snooze perhaps once, stretch, wash his face, feed Commes Des and Garcons, make breakfast, pick a suitable outfit, all in time for him to leave his apartment complex promptly at 8 AM to arrive at work.

Waking up early gave him enough time to do all he needed to do with no stress or rushing around. It was important to keep his skin clear, he had learned after the consequences of some stressful weeks with his four roommates in his senior year of college.

But that was in the past. Today, Kibum waved a friendly hello to his assistant who handed him his morning coffee and let him know of a meeting he had with the chief editor in about one hour. He sighed into his desk chair and let it spin around lazily, taking in his office. It was just as neat and minimalist as his home, something he took pride in. Everything on his desk had an explicit purpose for that day, and the walls were lined with his framed degrees in journalism and fashion, alongside one modern painting on the far end near the large window showcasing the city skyline.

He snapped out of his thoughts when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. But he rolled his eyes when he realized it was just the news, something about a large awards ceremony happening later that week. Now that he had been promoted, his work was more editorial, which is what he ultimately wanted. No more obnoxious interview subjects. No more trying to make up words to reach a word count describing the same outfit ten different ways. Plus, a larger salary.

Kibum shut his phone off and opened up his laptop, getting to work on reviewing some submitted paperwork and absent-mindedly sipping on his coffee until his assistant knocked, reminding him of his meeting.

“Thanks, Seulgi,” Kibum said as he stood up from his desk and stretched. “What would I do without you?”

“Fall asleep. You know you’re only functioning thanks to my coffee,” she replied with a lighthearted smirk.

He followed her down the white, modern halls of the office building to the glass-lined conference room, the heels of their shoes clicking along the floor. “And that’s,” Kibum said as he opened the door, “the only reason I hired you. Not because you’re talented or anything.”

Seulgi’s light laugh was cut short when Kibum closed the door to the sound-proof conference room, the silence sharp in the air. He saw the chief editor at the head of the table, but his heartbeat picked up when he noticed that to her right was the managing director and to her left, the head of human resources. What was going on? Was he getting fired? This was just a routine monthly check-in, right?

“Good morning, Kibum. Please, take a seat,” the chief editor said with a warm smile, evidently trying to calm him down. He must have looked panicked. Kibum made an effort to smooth his face. He hadn’t done anything wrong. There was absolutely no reason to worry.

Kibum slid into a chair on the other end of the small conference table, placing his hands neatly on the glass. “Good morning.” He bowed slightly to acknowledge the head of HR and managing director as well. “This is to go over last month's articles, right?” he asked, cutting to the chase.

“Oh no, that’s on Friday,” the chief editor said, waving her hand dismissively. “This is about something different.” Kibum stayed silent, waiting for her to continue.

Instead, the head of HR spoke up. “We need you for an event. On the ground, we mean.”

Kibum cocked his head to the side, an eyebrow raised. “Oh?” He thought he had moved beyond that. That was for rookies, and he had been working at this company for six years now. He was anything but a rookie.

“We’re launching a new training initiative, especially with the unprecedented number of new hires from this season,” the head of HR went on. “We want senior journalists mentoring some of the new hires.”

Kibum felt his shoulders droop with relief. So he wasn’t in trouble. “And I’m one of those senior journalists?”

“You’ll get a bonus,” the managing director cut in. “This is an extra project we’d like your experience and skills on.”

Bonus. The word perked Kibum’s ears up. He had been eyeing a new flat-screen TV for his apartment for some time… “Okay, so who do I mentor?”

The chief editor smiled grandly and shuffled around some sheets of paper in front of her. “Thank you, Kibum. I had told Seojun here that you would pull through but with your busy schedule, you never know.” She pulled out a few sheets and slid them across the table for Kibum to examine. “Her name is Park Sooyoung. We’ve assigned her to the Korean Music Awards ceremony this weekend, and we’d like for you to go with her.”

Kibum nodded and picked up the piece of paper, examining his new mentee’s credentials. Graduate from SNU. Impressive. “Was that it?” he asked, gazing up at his boss already standing up and gathering her things.

“Oh, yes. Just show her the ropes for a few weeks and give us an update on her performance. Should be pretty easy for you.” The chief editor smiled again and waved Kibum goodbye before opening the door. “And don’t forget about our monthly check-in this Friday, too.”

The door closed and Kibum was left in the stark silence of the conference room again. The Korean Music Awards, hm? Maybe he should take a look at the nomination list to see who would be going… No. The chances of running into him at such a big event were slim to none. It would be better to not even worry about it.

“How was it? That was short. And you look particularly pensive,” Seulgi said from her desk outside Kibum’s office, her eyes peering up over her glasses.

“I always look like this,” Kibum muttered.

“Hmm.” Seulgi squinted as she examined him and then shook her head. “Whatever you say. Anything you need me to do?”

“Yes, actually.” Kibum gave her the packet of papers. “Set up a meeting with her as soon as possible. I’m mentoring her now.”

“Ooh, how exciting,” Seulgi cooed, reading over Sooyoung’s information. “SNU grad, wow. She might just become your competition,” she said jokingly.

“Very funny,” Kibum replied sarcastically. “Just get on that, please?”

At Seulgi’s nod, Kibum felt content hiding in his office until he was needed again. In the silence, the thoughts from earlier returned. The Korean Music Awards Ceremony… There was a reason he avoided that awards show in particular. The last time he had gone, he was a guest. Jonghyun had invited him as his plus one.

Jonghyun. They’d lost touch. When was the last time he had heard from him? Oh, that’s right. Kibum had shot him a quick congratulations text on his newest album, but that was it. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the hundreds of contacts until he got to his messages with Jonghyun. Last read: A year ago. Jonghyun’s response was simply a quick thank you with a heart emoji attached.

Kibum spun his desk chair around aimlessly. How did he let them drift apart? It was the same with the rest of his senior year roommates, the friends he thought he’d keep forever. The friends he’d drink with until passing out or berate endlessly for almost setting the building on fire. Memories of Minho beating him at every video game flashed through his head. Or when he and Jinki forced everyone to take up one chore a week to clean up the apartment, the chore assigned by the results of a board game. Or when Taemin would come home tipsy from partying and Kibum and Jonghyun had to coax him into bed. Or when they all splurged on a fancy dinner after graduating and devoured the best bulgogi Kibum’s ever tasted.

He let out a deep sigh and shook his head. That was then. It had been almost eight years since and he hardly thought of them. Where even was Minho now? Last he heard he was coaching football in the states. Jinki was also abroad doing service based on the last time they had talked. Taemin was dancing professionally somewhere in Seoul; maybe he could reconnect with him at least. And Jonghyun was probably going to the awards ceremony–

Kibum’s heartbeat quickened at the thought, but he shook the feeling away. He had a very specific job to do at the ceremony, and that was to tutor Sooyoung, not try and reconnect with his college best friend. If he saw him, then okay. He would approach him professionally as a journalist does.

And that would be it.

. . .

“Sir?”

“I told you to just call me Kibum,” Kibum told Sooyoung standing nervously beside him. He adjusted the tie on his suit, which felt like it was choking him slightly, especially on the crowded red carpet entranceway. He felt Sooyoung tense behind him even more. “Or Mr. Kim, if you must,” he added when he sensed her hesitation.

She nodded politely and whipped out a notepad scribbled with notes for the fifth time. Kibum eyed her with a small smile, reminded of his younger self. “Just taking another quick look at the questions,” she said with a nervous laugh up at Kibum.

“You’ll be fine, Sooyoung. You’re a smart young woman and all you’re doing is holding a conversation. This pop culture stuff is way beneath you, don’t even worry about it.” Kibum shot her a confident smile and jerked his head towards an up-and-coming composer walking down the carpet. “Now go shoot your shot.”

Sooyoung took a deep breath to steady herself and put her notepad away before gesturing to the cameraman beside them to follow her and strutting confidently towards her interview subject. Kibum looked on with pride at his mentee and watched her approach him with ease and strike up a conversation for the camera. She was doing great.

Satisfied, he allowed himself to focus on the rest of his surroundings. It was a crowded red carpet, bustling with celebrities and flashing lights and clicking cameras all around. His eyes surveyed the crowd, recognizing famous faces here and there, a Kpop idol, a rockstar, a songwriter, another idol…

Until his eyes snagged on him.

Kibum could recognize his handsome face anywhere. Not that he was handsome. Now or in the past. Except he was. Kibum couldn’t stop staring at his smiling face as he posed for pictures, a gorgeous woman on his arm. He willed and willed himself to look away even for a split second but couldn’t. He was under his spell.

Maybe that’s why Jonghyun ended up looking around the red carpet uncomfortably under Kibum’s heavy gaze. Kibum's breath hitched when he locked eyes with Jonghyun. Even from this distance, his chocolate brown eyes radiated warmth and care and Kibum felt himself drawn to them, wanting to get closer. But his feet were frozen to the floor. His heart was beating out of his chest and he couldn’t move.

Jonghyun kept his eyes on Kibum for a few more seconds, before his face broke into a genuine, large smile. It was so contagious that even Kibum in his frozen, panicked state was able to crack a small smile in response. And when Jonghyun waved excitedly at Kibum to come join him, he obeyed, his feet finally unsticking from the floor enough to let him walk towards Jonghyun, the woman, and the crowd of cameras surrounding them.

“Kibum!” Jonghyun pulled him into a tight hug, squeezing him for a good few moments before pulling away, but leaving his hands on Kibum’s shoulders as if he was taking in his presence. “How have you been? When was the last time we saw each other? Two years ago?”

Kibum was acutely aware of all the cameras clicking around him and the woman who had come with Jonghyun standing awkwardly to the side. But he tried to ignore all that and focus on Jonghyun in front of him. “Yeah, like two years I think. And I’ve been pretty good. I’m a senior journalist now,” he said nonchalantly with a shrug.

Jonghyun’s eyes widened and he squeezed Kibum into another hug. “Congratulations! You deserve that. Still at Weekly Spotlight?”

“Yes,” he responded, his voice strained by how tightly Jonghyun was hugging him. When he pulled away, this time completely, Kibum cleared his throat and asked, “What about you? How have you been?”

“Pretty good too! I was nominated, but you probably knew that since we ran into each other here,” he laughed lightly. “Remember when we came together the first time I was nominated? Gosh, that was so much fun.”

Kibum’s ears reddened at the memory, and he noticed the woman awkwardly looking around with her lips pursed beside Jonghyun. Attempting to break the ice, Kibum said, “Oh, you haven’t introduced me to your friend.”

Jonghyun stopped gazing solely at Kibum and snapped to attention, gently touching the woman’s shoulder beside him to bring her focus to the conversation. “This is Kim Taeyeon. She’s the feature on the album I’m nominated for.”

Taeyeon smiled kindly at Kibum and shook his hand. “So nice to meet you, Kibum. I’ve heard lots about you.”

Kibum couldn’t hide the surprise on his face. Jonghyun was talking about him? “You have?”

“Yes, of course,” she said pleasantly. She had a nice voice, Kibum noticed. “I met Jonghyun right after college. He loves talking about his friends.”

Kibum glanced over at Jonghyun who simply beamed, no embarrassment evident on his face. So it must be true. “Huh,” was all he said in response.

“Kim Jonghyun! Kim Jonghyun! Over here!”

Jonghyun’s bright smile fell a bit at the reminder of where they were. “Ah, I guess we should get going,” he said to no one. Taeyeon nodded and started walking ahead of him. But he hesitated a second longer with Kibum. It looked like he was searching for the words to say something, until finally, he said, “It was…really nice seeing you again, Kibum.”

Then he disappeared into the crowd.

Kibum stood unmoving, watching all the photographers and paparazzi previously around him flocking to the newest famous face on the carpet. He didn’t know what to make of that conversation. It seemed like Jonghyun was doing just fine. And Kibum knew practically nothing about his life. But his thoughts were cut short by Sooyoung rushing up to him, a wide smile on her face.

“Mr. Kim! I just interviewed IU!” she said excitedly, out of breath. “That was so cool!”

“Wow!” Kibum was impressed. IU was extremely famous and his mentee already managed to snag an interview with her. “Good job, Sooyoung. I told you this would be easy for you.”

“All thanks to your mentoring,” she said with a polite bow. “I think I’ll keep going and see who else I can talk to,” she said before spinning on her heel and zooming back into the crowd.

Kibum chuckled at her rookie excitement and realized that without Sooyoung, he really had nothing to do at this ceremony. With a deep sigh, he decided to just take his seat early and wait it out.

At last, the ceremony began. Kibum watched without really watching the hosts drone on and on and present the dozens of awards- until the undeniable urge to pee set in. He tried to ignore it, recognizing that his seat was in the middle of the row and he’d have to push past ten or so people to get to the aisle, but the urge grew and grew until it was unbearable. And so he stood up gruffly and squeezed past all the knees in the way while muttering I’m sorry’s until he reached the aisle and sped to the nearest bathroom.

After washing his hands, he took a look at himself in the mirror. He slicked his hair back and admired how nicely he had styled it, winking in the mirror and chuckling to himself at how handsome he looked in his new navy blue tux. It really did suit him, he thought as he smirked to himself and posed in front of the mirror.

Mid-finger guns pose, a stall door behind him opened suddenly, causing him to jump from the shock, almost slipping on the slightly wet floor. How did he not realize anyone else was in the bathroom? He cleared his throat, steadied himself on the sink countertop, and tried to look relaxed as he pretended to finish washing his hands, pointedly not looking up at the other person.

“Kibum?” a familiar voice called. Kibum turned to finally look at the person. It was Jonghyun, grinning at him from ear to ear again. He started washing his hands just as Kibum stopped to dry them. “Fancy seeing you here. Pretty cool now that there’s more privacy too.”

“Ah yes, the coolest place in this hall, the men’s bathroom,” Kibum replied sarcastically.

“You know what I mean,” Jonghyun rolled his eyes lightheartedly and laughed. “Crazy how we’ve bumped into each other twice tonight after two years of not seeing each other at all.”

“Yeah, it has been a while,” Kibum said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Honestly, I’ve missed the whole group.”

Jonghyun leaned against the opposite wall to Kibum, his arms crossed nonchalantly. He looked straight out of a drama in his well-pressed black suit. “Have you talked to the others? Minho maybe?” he said with a smirk. “I know you fought but you always had a soft spot for him.”

Kibum scoffed. “He’d be the last one I’d talk to if I had.”

Jonghyun’s smiled for a second before his face became pensive. Kibum studied it, the contours of his cheekbones, the way the stark bathroom light still shone beautifully on his radiant skin. They were both silent for a few moments, Jonghyun lost in thought. Then, “We should try to meet up.”

Kibum forced his eyes away from Jonghyun’s face. “Meet up?” he repeated, not really sure of what Jonghyun had said because of his staring.

“Yeah, let’s get the whole gang back together, even just for one night!” Jonghyun was excited now, waving his hands around animatedly. “I’m sure we can figure out a date that works for all of us.”

Kibum let the idea settle. Seeing Taemin, Jinki, Minho, and Jonghyun all together in one place again? It sounded like a lot of fun if he was being honest with himself. “Let’s do it,” Kibum smiled back.

Jonghyun pumped a celebratory fist in the air and said, “First let’s revive the dead group chat and figure out where everyone is.” He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through his messages.

Kibum watched him for a few seconds before remembering, “Aren’t you needed out there or something? You were nominated, right?”

“Oh, man.” Jonghyun stuffed his phone into his pocket and checked himself in the mirror one more time before turning to Kibum again. “I’ll text everyone after the ceremony. I promise,” he said, each word weighted with sincerity.

“Okay,” Kibum managed to whisper out before Jonghyun rushed out of the bathroom and back towards his seat. Again left alone, Kibum rubbed his hands along his face. What on Earth was he doing? He was a senior journalist at Weekly Spotlight, one of the biggest magazine publishers in the country. He had a steady and decent income, two dogs he adored, and he was happy. He didn’t need to reopen this college chapter of his life, much less reconnect with an internationally famous singer.

But he wanted to. He was excited at Jonghyun’s idea of getting the roommates all back together, even if just for one night. Besides, there was no harm in catching up, right?

When the ceremony finished, after congratulating Sooyoung on her first job well done and driving back home, Kibum showered and got ready for bed, Comme Des and Garcons on his heels. He collapsed onto his bed, clean and soft from his shower, and pulled out his phone as if waiting for something. He distracted himself with social media for a few minutes before exhaustion forced him to give up on waiting and was about to shut off his phone before a notification from Jonghyun made him shoot up in bed and grip his phone tightly with excitement.

Jonghyun: hey guys! it’s been a while. where are you all? any chance we can meet up for dinner? i have a great barbecue place in mind~

Kibum smiled softly at Jonghyun’s tone. He really hadn’t changed at all after all these years. Kibum decided to be the first to respond and then finally go to sleep.

But Minho beat him to it.

Minho: You guys!!! I’ve missed you!!! I’m living in Seoul again- when’s good for you all?

Minho was in Seoul? Then why hadn’t he reached out sooner? The spiteful thought appeared in Kibum's mind before he responded normally:

Kibum: I’m in Seoul too. Weekends work for me.

Satisfied with his response, he finally shut his phone off and decided to get some sleep. He’d check on Jinki and Taemin’s responses the next morning. They couldn’t say no to Jonghyun. No one could. It was only a matter of time before they all met up.

. . .

“Kibum, you forgot your coffee.”

“Huh?” Kibum glanced up from his phone, his hand absentmindedly on the doorknob to his office, ready to open the door. “Oh, thanks, Seulgi,” he said, reaching over to her desk to pick up his usual cup of coffee. “Knock if I’m needed for anything.”

“Sure,” Seulgi said, one brow arched suspiciously.

But Kibum didn’t notice. He shut his office door behind him and returned immediately to his phone.

The previously dead group chat was now extremely overactive. He had fallen asleep waiting for a response from Taemin and Jinki and woken up to 276 unread messages. Taemin kept sending random reaction gifs to every text sent and now Minho was apparently trying to convince them all to watch the soccer game tonight. Did these people even have jobs?

But Kibum couldn’t hide his smile as he typed.

Kibum: I’m not scrolling up to read the 300+ messages you guys sent. Are we actually meeting up?

Jonghyun: yes!! we’re all in seoul so we decided on 6pm tomorrow at that place we ate at after graduation

Taemin: [smiling cat gif]

Kibum: Are you illiterate or something?

Taemin: [finger guns gif] Taemin: yes

Jinki: I’m just so happy to be seeing you all again

Minho: Nobody get there late, okay? Minho: Or else

Kibum: Or else what?

Taemin: or else i’ll eat all the food :P

Kibum: Over my dead body

Jonghyun: i’ll give you all my food if you want taeminnie

Taemin: see? at least SOMEONE on this chat cares about me

Jinki: We’ll make sure to order extra

Kibum: Okay but I’m not paying

Minho: Then don’t eat :D

Jinki: Why don’t we just split the bill?

Jonghyun: sounds like a good idea

Taemin: don’t forget my extra sides!

Kibum chuckled to himself, spinning around on his office chair like a giggling schoolboy. God, he missed his friends. But as much as he wanted to text them all day, a knock from Seulgi reminded him that he had to make money.

Sighing and putting the chat on mute, he called Seulgi in and started off the long day of work.

. . .

At last, Saturday arrived. Kibum adjusted the collar of his jacket and studied himself in the mirror one last time. This outfit should do, right? He fussed over the hem of his shirt a bit more before realizing he didn’t have to impress any of his friends and let out the anxious breath he had been holding in.

He was finally going to see them again after so long. Sure, he had made other friends and even dated here and there after college but none of those relationships reached the depth of what he had with his four roommates.

And he didn’t realize how much he had missed them until he saw them all casually sitting there at the restaurant.

“Kibum!” Jonghyun cheered, getting up from his seat to squeeze Kibum into a tight hug. His cologne smelled nice, like honey and flowers, Kibum noticed. “I was about to text you.”

Kibum had no time to react before Jonghyun let go of him and he was again swallowed by another pair of strong arms. “You’re late.”

“No, I’m on time,” Kibum mumbled into Minho’s hard shoulder. “Dude. How did you get even taller?”

Minho pulled back and smiled at Kibum. “Or maybe you just shrank.”

“My turn!” Suddenly, Taemin’s round face popped up in front of Kibum as he also hugged him impossibly tight. “I missed you!” Taemin said excitedly before letting go.

“Jinki, don’t tell me you’re also going to hug–”

Jinki swooped in after Taemin and hugged Kibum as well, patting him on the back encouragingly. “We’ve all just missed you so much,” he said when he pulled back, his voice strong and even just as Kibum remembered.

“So is this the punishment for being the last one to get here?” Kibum asked, picking the chair at the end of the table near Minho and Taemin and sitting down along with the others.

“Yes,” Jonghyun laughed. “You get squeezed to death with hugs.”

“So what are we ordering?” Taemin cut in, snapping open his menu.

“The bulgogi. Duh,” Minho said.

At the unanimous agreement, they waved the waiter over to order before Taemin added quickly, “Plus some drinks.”

Once the waiter left, Jonghyun started up the conversation. “So what have you all been up to? How come you’re all in Seoul? Last I heard, Minho, you were in the states or something.”

“Oh right,” Minho said, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. “I was coaching some kids there for a bit. But I moved back just this year.”

“This year?” Kibum arched one brow and glanced over at Minho. He was dying to ask from before, so he did, “How come you didn’t reach out?”

“How come you didn’t?” Minho snapped back.

“Okay, okay. Point taken,” Kibum said, lowering his gaze and taking a sip of whatever special cocktail he had ordered. It tasted too bitter, but whatever.

“Anyway,” Minho sighed, moving on. “I moved back just now and…I’m engaged.” He beamed brightly, watching the table’s reaction.

The friends erupted into loud cheering and exclamations. Jonghyun quite literally jumped out of his chair and rushed over to hug Minho. “Minho! Oh my God, congrats! That’s huge!”

“Congratulations, Minho!” Jinki said with a proud smile. “Who is it?”

“Gosh, she’s amazing, you guys. I can’t wait for you all to meet her,” Minho gushed, his features softening as he thought of his fiancée.

“We’re invited to the wedding, right?” Taemin asked with a smirk, already knowing the answer.

“Well, obviously. You’re already on the guest list. We’re thinking late November.”

“Congrats, Minho. I’m happy for you, really,” Kibum joined in. He took another sip of his horrible drink. “But I’m just a little shocked. I didn’t think you’d be the first of us to get married.”

Minho feigned offense; he understood that Kibum was just playing around. Gawking dramatically like he was supposed to, like he used to, he asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kibum stirred his drink around absentmindedly for the effect. “I just mean that out of all of us, you dated the least in college.”

“I was just waiting for a special person,” Minho responded with a soft smile.

“And I’m so glad you found her,” Jinki said with a sense of finality, ending that.

“Well I’m not getting married, but I do have a boyfriend,” Taemin interrupted, proudly smiling at the table. “Where are my congratulations?”

“That’s not as big of an accomplishment as a whole ass engagement, Taemin,” Kibum said with a light nudge at Taemin with his elbow.

“Well, still,” Taemin pouted. “I want you guys to meet him someday too.”

“This is great! It just gives us another excuse to meet up again,” Jonghyun said excitedly. He grabbed his drink and downed a bunch of it at once, smacking his lips playfully.

“Careful, Jonghyun,” Jinki said in a warning voice. “We’re not in college anymore.”

“But it feels like we are. It’s just like old times,” Jonghyun said, wrapping his arm around Jinki’s shoulder and pulling him close. “It’s like nothing’s changed.”

Jinki eyed Jonghyun with some concern but didn’t say anything. Luckily at that moment, the waiter came with their much-awaited bulgogi and Taemin’s jaw went slack when he saw it. They all immediately started eating, the occasional comments about how good it tasted floating around the table.

They continued catching up a bit here and there, and Kibum gave up on making his drink work. Kibum found out that Jinki was now a renowned musical actor and Taemin was an idol dance coach and choreographer. Minho was still coaching kids in soccer but his fiancée made enough money to support them both even if he decided to quit. And Jonghyun updated them on his upcoming new album.

“It’s a bit sadder than my past albums,” he said with his lips pursed and brow furrowed in thought. “I don’t know why it turned out that way. And I still don’t even know if it’s complete but the PD is pushing for it to be done as soon as possible.”

“You’re the creative brains behind it. They should listen to what you have to say,” Minho said between bulgogi bites.

“I guess, but I still don’t even know what’s missing,” he said with a pout and dramatic sigh, thumping his forehead against the table.

“Oh, he’s out,” Taemin announced.

“He always forgets he’s a lightweight,” Jinki said, petting his hair gently.

“It’s because he’s so short,” Minho laughed heartily.

“What was that?” Jonghyun snapped his head up, glaring at Minho.

“Uh…” Minho’s eyes jumped around the table as he pleaded for help. Kibum just shook his head at him with a smile, Taemin continued eating, and Jinki kept petting Jonghyun’s hair. “Just that it’ll be a short amount of time before you find what’s missing for your album!” he tried. Kibum laughed at the pathetic attempt.

But it seemed to work on drunk Jonghyun whose features softened into a gracious smile. “Yes, Minho. I’m sure inspiration will strike soon,” he nodded to himself. Then he mumbled out, “I do have this one long-lost love I keep going back to when I write lyrics…”

“A love?” Taemin asked, his drink frozen halfway up to his mouth.

Kibum’s eyes widened in surprise as well. Jonghyun had a long-lost love that he didn’t know about?

Oh. They hadn’t talked for almost eight years. Of course, there were things in his life that he’d missed out on outside their four years of friendship in college. They weren’t even best friends anymore.

Jonghyun hiccupped and laughed in response. “It’s not important,” he said in a sing-songy voice. “It’ll never happen.”

“How mysterious,” Taemin said thoughtfully.

“Long-lost love?” Jinki asked gently. “What do you mean lost?”

At that Jonghyun started crying. He threw his head into his arms on the table and bawled loudly even as Jinki patted his back and whispered soothing things to him. “Guys?” Jinki asked the table. “Any ideas?”

“Maybe we should call it a night,” Minho suggested, putting his own drink down and waving the waiter over for the check. “We did a lot tonight. Plus we can always see each other again.”

“Of all of us, I did not think Jonghyun would be the one getting wasted,” Taemin said with a sigh.

“Did you change your ways after all those nights I’d have to bring you back home blackout drunk?” Kibum asked lightheartedly.

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Taemin said, sticking his tongue out at Kibum playfully. “No thanks to you.”

“Speaking of,” Jinki interrupted, “What are we going to do with Jonghyun?” Kibum glanced over and saw that while his crying had calmed down a bit, he still had his head in his arms and was unresponsive to Jinki’s words. “I think it’s best if he stays with one of us tonight.”

“I can’t. The house is still being redone so we’re staying in a hotel room,” Minho shook his head apologetically.

Taemin also responded remorsefully. “I have a meeting early in the morning. I don’t think I’m the best one to take him in.”

“I can,” Jinki and Kibum said simultaneously. Kibum glanced over at Jinki with Jonghyun and was about to tell Jinki that he could take care of him that night if he wanted to when Jinki cut in first, “But Kibum lives closer, right? It’s probably easier for both of you if he just stays with you.”

Kibum studied Jinki. Why was he so quick to throw Jonghyun into Kibum’s responsibility? But Jinki just smiled at him warmly like he always did. Even if Jinki was up to something, Kibum knew he wasn’t getting anything out of his headstrong friend.

“Yeah, I live a few blocks away. He can stay with me,” Kibum finally said.

Jinki nodded appreciatively at Kibum and said soothingly to Jonghyun, “See? You’re going home with Kibum now. You’ll be okay.”

“Kibum?” Jonghyun sniffled, lifting his head up to look at Kibum through bloodshot eyes. “Okay,” he whispered, barely audible throughout the table.

A loud clap brought back their attention. “Okay!” Minho started. “Now that that’s settled, let’s get going.”

The group split the check and said their goodbyes, promising to keep in touch for real this time and update each other on the group chat. Minho even suggested weekly dinners or at least group calls together to stay connected. Kibum’s heart swelled with love for his friends as he hugged and waved them all goodbye.

All except for Jonghyun, who clung tightly to his arm as he wobbled beside Kibum.

“If I’d have known I would have to take you back this drunk, I wouldn’t have walked,” Kibum grumbled mostly to himself as he hoisted Jonghyun up higher so that he wouldn’t drag them both down onto the sidewalk. The night was surprisingly cool for August, a fresh breeze ruffling up their hair. Kibum recognized the flickering streetlight that meant he was a block away.

“Sorry,” Jonghyun mumbled into Kibum’s shoulder. Kibum could feel a smile pressing into his clothes.

“No, you’re not,” Kibum said with an eye roll. “I can feel you smiling. If you wanted to see my apartment so badly you could’ve just asked. No need to get so drunk.”

“You’ve been worse,” Jonghyun countered.

“Don’t make this about me,” Kibum t’sked disapprovingly. “Just because you’re a bit older doesn’t mean I can’t lecture you about drinking too much.”

When they reached his apartment building, Kibum dragged Jonghyun up through the elevator and through the hall to his door. He fumbled with the keys for a bit, Jonghyun still clinging to his arm helplessly until he found the right one and clicked the door open. Garcons and Comme Des immediately greeted him by jumping up on their hind legs and scratching up his pants. When they noticed that there was an unexpected guest, they ignored Kibum and crowded around Jonghyun, sniffing him up and down excitedly.

“Woah, since when do you have dogs?” Jonghyun asked, reaching down with wobbly hands to pet Garcons’ fluffy face.

“Since a few years ago.” Another thing they didn’t know about each other. Kibum swallowed the uncomfortable feeling in his throat and continued, “That’s Comme Des and that’s Garcons.”

“They’re so cute,” Jonghyun cooed, scratching Garcons behind his ears. “You’re so cute, aren’t you? Yes, you are, yes you are,” he said in a baby voice.

“Jjong, you can sleep in my bed. I’ll take the couch,” Kibum said, dropping his keys off in the bowl near the door and slipping off his shoes.

Kibum heard Jonghyun freeze, Garcons whining a little at the loss of affection. “Jjong. I forgot about that nickname.”

Kibum panicked. Maybe it had been too long. Or maybe Jonghyun didn’t like nicknames anymore now that he was insanely famous. It just slipped out. “Do you not like–”

“I love it,” Jonghyun said, standing up to look at Kibum. “I…missed it too. I missed you.”

Kibum felt some heat rush up his face. Probably from his finicky AC unit. “Well, Jjong, you take my bed. I’ll figure something out for myself here.”

“Are you sure? I can sleep on the couch or something,” Jonghyun said in a rush.

“I’m sure,” Kibum said with a sense of finality. “Now let me see if I can find you any pajamas that fit.”

He headed off to his closet to collect some pajamas for Jonghyun just as he heard him call out, “No, no it’s fine! I can sleep in these clothes, I promise.”

“Here,” Kibum said when he returned with a pair of plaid pajama pants and a tank top that hopefully fit him okay. “It’s fine, I never even really use these.”

“Thank you,” Jonghyun said with a small bow, taking the pajamas. Kibum guided him towards his room and instructed him to change before leaving the room. After a few minutes, he knocked on the door and entered when Jonghyun called out, “I’m done!”

Kibum’s eyes widened slightly with how well the pajamas fit on Jonghyun. The tank top that was big and loose on Kibum and made him look like a blob hugged Jonghyun’s chest perfectly, outlining the perfect shape of his body. His fans must go crazy with photoshoots, Kibum thought. He had to force his eyes up and clear his throat to say, “They look good on you. Comfy, I mean.”

Jonghyun simply nodded with a humble smile. “They are comfy.” Then he glanced over at Kibum’s bed to the side. “Are you sure I can’t take the couch?”

“I insist,” Kibum said, guiding and pushing Jonghyun down onto his bed. “You’ll sleep better here.”

“But what about you?” Jonghyun whined, pouting and looking up at Kibum with puppy-dog eyes.

“Stop that, you know it won’t work on me,” Kibum said, adjusting the comforter on Jonghyun so he was snug in bed.

Jonghyun dropped the act immediately. “Ugh, you’re right. Only Taeminnie can pull that off.”

Kibum patted the comforter all around Jonghyun and stood up with satisfaction. “Okay, now I’ll go get ready.” But just as he was turning around to do that, Jonghyun started giggling. Kibum spun back around, his hands on his hips as he asked, “What now?”

“Nothing,” Jonghyun said in between giggles. “Just go.” More giggles.

“I thought you had sobered up by now,” Kibum said with a deep sigh. “Just tell me. You have to be laughing for a reason.”

“Just–” He interrupted himself with more giggles and hiccups. “It’s kinda funny. It’s like we swapped.”

“Swapped?” Kibum sat down gingerly on the edge of his bed, waiting for Jonghyun’s giggle attack to pass. “What do you mean?”

“Remember when you asked me to marry you?”

“What?” Kibum cocked his head to the side, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You used to be the one getting wasted and I was sober,” Jonghyun said between giggles. “And one time you asked me to marry you if we were still single by the time we turned thirty.”

“Oh.” A vague flash of the memory appeared in Kibum’s mind. Taemin drunk. Text break-up. A beer bottle. Jonghyun’s warm shoulder.

“Do you not remember?” Jonghyun asked, his laughs subsiding now. He was serious. “You made me swear on it and everything.”

Soulmates. It all came to him in a rush. Kibum had said something about soulmates that night, too. How did Jonghyun even remember that though? “Let’s just sleep, okay?” Kibum said, standing up and ignoring the way his stomach twisted in on itself.

“Okay!” Jonghyun said, shooting Kibum a toothy smile and forgetting their conversation immediately. “Sweet dreams, Bummie.”

Now it was Kibum’s turn to freeze. He hadn’t heard that nickname in ages either, and it flooded him with warmth and nostalgia. He reached over to pet Jonghyun’s hair lightly and say, “Goodnight, Jjong.”

--END OF CHAPTER--

READ CH 2 HERE

#shinee #shinee fic #kpop fic #shinee fanfic #fluff #angst #kpop fluff #jongkey soulmates #jongkey #jongkey fluff #kim jonghyun #kim kibum #pining #college au #soulmates

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foreverlostindreams · 3 years

Text

Don’t ever dump me again

Friends. That's the reason Kol invited you here, because you were ‘friends’. He seemed to be lacking any more of those, or he would not drag you out every time he wanted to go for a drink, just to be distracted by any pretty neck walking past. And while you were glad that you had moved on from being on the menu, to being an, at least right now, treasured witchy help for the Mikaelson, you could definitely go without another evening spent alone in a bar, he chose for the two of you ‘to have fun’. You didn't have fun. Who would getting basically dumped every other night? It was not the best thing for your ego, so you ordered another drink.

It was just your luck, that sitting alone at a bar like this one seemed to attracted all kinds of other lonely or wishful guests of even that bar to try their best of getting closer to you. The stool next to you was still empty, but when the bartender brought you another drink, shortly after your ordered one, you knew that was going to end very quickly. The sound of dragging wood on wood seconds later proved you right and then you saw the guy appearing in the corner of your left eye.

He was not as dubious and off-putting as the other ones you usually attracted in establishments Kol dragged you to, but you also did not get a good vibe from him right away.

A good half an hour and a few drinks later you had warmed up to him though. No supernatural about him at all, right now a fat plus on your chart and just a lot of charming talk about college and annoying friends, just what you needed. You had started college before getting sucked into all the Mikaelson mess and even though you had not liked it there a single bit, compared to some of the things you did now, hell did you miss it. He seemed to have a slight intention of getting you tipsy, based on how fast he ordered you new drinks, when yours got empty, but you knew how to handle your liquor and based on the fact, that Kol in average would take another half an hour before he would get back to get you, you were just fine with how it was.

That was before the next drink hit you very differently. Your head was spinning instantly and you could feel your balance going off. Roofies, oh for fucks sake. You stumbled off your stool trying to get away from him, but your body was not cooperating very much. When he got up as well, playing the perfect help and no word of protest that you were trying to form would leave your lips, you started to feel a slight panic creeping up. There was no witchy power protecting you from this or reversing it, definitely not while you were in this state. God, you were so stupid. The first thing you learn in College, always watch your cup and don’t take drinks from strangers. Having spent so much time with vampires and angry werewolves, you had forgotten about all those mundane dangers. You could kick yourself.

Your thoughts were racing, when you felt the cold night wind on your face. He was getting you further and further away from the back alley or whatever kind of service room Kol, aka your only chance of help and his play thing were in, to everybody else you seemed like a drunk mess, that a friend was helping. “Km” you mumbled only to try directly again, with more force “Kom'' and again “Kol!”

Thank god you were not out with Elijah, you would have never gotten his name out, even though he probably would have not let it have come to this in the first place. But ones you had managed to get the name right once, you didn't stop, repeating it like a prayer. Hoping to get through the bar and street noise like this. Annoying him like he always would with you. When you heard a car door open next to you, full on panicking now, it mobiliced all the brain capacity you could manage “Kol, help!” you nearly screamed, as your legs finally failed in those heels under you and you fell against the car door, jamming the guys hand in the progress. You could hear him swear and then smell a very familiar smell in the next air breeze.

“I said have fun, Darling, not organize presents. But I’m not complaining.” He definitely did not know, when he could be funny and when not, you determined while trying to get safely to the ground to crawl away from the danger zone your ‘nice’ college dude had maneuvered himself into. You didn’t get to crawl through, you were picked up before that. The suit sleeves covering the arms in your vision did not seem like what Kol was dressed in the last time you saw him, but the voice you had heard was his. Trying to focus was getting more and more difficult you noticed and you felt your eyes getting heavier, before you felt something wet getting pressed to your lips. The first impulse was defence, but without much effect and when the copper taste hit your tongue you gave in. Vampire blood was probably your only chance now.

When the clouds started to lift off your mind and your own legs started to support your body again you let go and looked for the guy. You’d be damned if he would get away with this, but Kol had him good and scared to death, his hand still stuck in the car door. Now that couldn’t be good. On a second thought you turned around wide eyed before you realized it was Elijah who had helped you get the drugs out of your system. Where did he come from? They had promised you, they could not read minds. “I was trying to call you, to do a spell for Klaus, but you didn’t answer, so I was going to pick you up.” he offered you an answer, before you could even ask. An oppressed scream reached your ears distracting you again.

“Don’t kill him!” you scolded Kol, trying to get closer only to realise that vampire blood might have helped, but you were not yet your balanced and stable self. “Oh come on Darling! You can not still feel sorry for him. He was not going to take you on a picnic” he shot back dramatically “I know” I hissed at him and instantly regretted it, when his grin got wider again “Oh, so you want the honor?” “No” okay, maybe a bit and you got the chance earlier than expected because the idiot really did try to make his escape in just that moment. The force with which you smashed him into the ground before he did his second step and one of the other two men made a move was entirely because of the drugs, of course.

Pinning him like this you looked back at Kol “I want you to compel him to go to the next police department, demand to speak to a female officer and confess to her about every woman he ever did this to. And about the place where he gets the drugs, if he knows about any other guy doing it. Absolutely everything” “You are no fun” Kol complained “I am in this situation, because you fucking idiot always want to have fun, drag me along and then dump me at the bar. My liver is probably going to get me in an early grave, all because of you” You went off on him and could feel Elijah's disapproving look shooting over your head at his little brother. “Are you saying, you never had fun with me?” He really seemed insulted, what did he expect? “Like I say, you always disappear and the bars you choose are not known for it’s amazing clientele, but it’s the only escape I get from the third brother in your family, that would like to see me work on something for him every waking minute of the day, so i tag along.”

“Ready to go home?” Elijah asked then and offered you his arm, like the perfect gentleman he was “Kol, you got this?” he asked in a totally different kind of voice, while leading me to the passenger seat of his car. How had you not noticed he seemingly hit the brakes and parked directly behind you and the idiots car? “We are not done talking about this Darling!” “Oh, I so am. I will not discuss anything with any of you anymore today. I will not do any spells. I will just go to bed and sleep for a day or two. Maybe wake up in a life, where mine is not so out of control” A girl could dream.

Of course, you were back at breakfast the next morning already reading the grimoire Klaus had gotten in ways you didn’t want to know anything about. He had not complained to you about the time he had lost last night, but you were sure he spent the whole time you were asleep doing it to Elijah, who had put his food down about your need to sleep, also citing that trying a difficult spell with a halfway drugged witch was not their best chance. You were also sure Kol had heard his bit about letting it get to that.

Just when thinking of the devil, he slipped into the stool to your left, looking disapproving on your cornflakes. “That was how my last evening turned from bad to catastrophic” you commented on his move without looking up from the page. “You really did not enjoy a single evening?” Was his pride honestly hurt about that aspect? “Nop” “I thought you were! I thought, that was what you wanted, a way out of this house and not see a single vampire for ones, that's what you had said'' In that moment the penny dropped in your mind. You had said that! A little over a month ago, the day after Kol had arrived back here, when Klaus had had one of his days and Elijah was not on your side the way you had wanted him to, you had stormed off slamming doors and screaming your frustration out with those words. The day after, Kol had asked you to a bar for the first time.

You looked at him, checking for signs that he might prank you, but he looked genuine. You took a deep breath “Okay, let's start again. Hi, my name is Y/N. Your family drives me insane, sometimes I need a timeout from that, but I still do not like to be dumped in shitty bars, when asked out.” Kol took your offered hand “Well then, Miss Y/N. I will remember that. Would you like to accompany me to a better bar tomorrow evening, to redeem myself as good company?” “That sound not bad at all” He grinned back at you and then got up. “By the way darling, I would not eat that, it smells bad.” “Shut up Kol, better be worried, if you ever dump me again!” You could hear his laugh, even when he left the room.

#kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson x you #kol mikaelson imagine #elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #witch reader #the vampire diaries #the originals #the originals imagine

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harrysgloves · 4 years

Text

Three’s Company

Harry Styles x Reader x Florence Pugh

Story Summary: The relationship of Harry Styles, Florence Pugh, and Y/N are kept under wraps... until it all falls apart.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Language // Angst

Authors Note: Please ignore the fact I’ve had writters block for over a month... Hope this is at least (semi) close to what you wanted anon! I kind of been carried away in daydreams of a poly relationship with Harry and Florence lately... xx

>>>Kind of a continuation of this fic<<< (Not necessary to read first)

PART TWO

>>><<<

"Come on." Harry breathed out the words onto your skin. His lips pressed against the smooth sensitive velvet of your inner legs. "Jus' wanna make yeh feel good, baby."

"I gotta go." You whined, your head pressed down into your pillow on his bed as you pouted up at the ceiling. It was 11:32 and you had exactly 28 minutes until you needed to be across town for this dumb lunch you promised your friends you'd show up to.

"Only need five minutes." He smirked into your skin. Playful green eyes shot up from between your legs when you out a huff.

"Shut up." You mumbled, your legs snapped closed as you tried to roll out of his oversized bed. His long, lanky, arms around your waist trying their best to stop you from leaving.

"Wait!" He pouted, his head rested on your shoulder.

"Harry." You groaned, your head leaned back as your feet dangled off the bed, inches away from the floor, and towards the plans, you were starting to regret making for the day.

"Sweetheart, 've missed yeh." His calloused hands wandered down your waist, under the shirt you'd stolen from his closet for your impromptu nights stay.

You were starting to wonder why you even bothered having an apartment of your own when those fucking hands started soothing motions on your breast. Rough fingers swirling your nipples into a hard peak.

Your soft sigh floated through the air as his lips curled against your neck. You could tell he thought he won this time, his gloating smirk, a self-satisfied hum drifting from that damn mouth that you simultaneously wanted to smack and grind against. He always knew how to do this, he managed to find all your weak spots in less than a month.

The bastard.

"You two always start without me." The voice of your girlfriend broke through that foggy haze of lust in your mind. You jumped away from Harry. Your bare feet hit the floor with a loud slap.

"Ugh." Harry groaned as he slammed back into the soft mattress, his eyes glared at Florence. "Now she's gonna leave."

"What? No…." She drew out in a whine. Perfectly pink lips pouted at you from the corner of Harry's bed.

"I promised them I'd go this time." You mumbled as you tossed articles of clothing that didn't belong to you across the room.

You three needed a cleaning system.

"But…" Florence sighed as she took down her hair from the towel on top of her head. "Today's our day off."

"You guys can still do stuff." You said as you wiggled quickly into your jeans, not at all paying attention to the worried look on both of their faces.

It had been a little less than a month of dating and the two of them hadn't gone anywhere without you. Sure, you'd done things separately with the both of them. Separate dates, divided time between both their apartments, and long nights with either one of them in a bed.

You'd done just as much together as you had apart but neither one of them wanted to push the bounds of the slightly new relationship. That left you with one boyfriend and one girlfriend, who really didn't seem to be dating each other, only you.

"We've talked about this." You groaned as you slid your bra around your bare stomach. Harry's shirt bunched around your neck as you threaded each arm through a strap. "Go out on a date, fuck each other."

"We do!" Florence protested, her arms crossed against her bare chest, the towel in her hair fell slightly as she pouted to you.

You couldn't have rolled your eyes harder if you tried.

"Without me." You said as you tucked Harry's shirt into the top of your jeans. His head popped up from the bed, a dimpled smile across his face when he saw you wearing his clothes for the day.

"We wanna give yeh time to get used to it." He said as he rested on his elbow. His soft curly hair hung in his eyes.

"I know," you sighed as you sat down on the edge of the bed to put on your socks. " I appreciate it but really, you two are dating too."

"Won't change your mind?" Florence asked after a second too long of you three being in silence.

"Flor," you cooed in a soft voice when your eyes lifted to see her looking so vulnerable. "I'm not going anywhere. I want this."

Your hand cupped around her face, thumb stroking her cheek. Her head nodded in agreement before you leaned in to capture her lips with your own.

This would be good for all of you, you thought. A chance for the three of you to become a solid unit, not separate moving parts. You smiled softly at her as you leaned back from her. Her eyes still held a look of disbelief hidden deep in them.

"Promise I'm not going anywhere."

>>>

"You're late!" Your best friend yelled way too loudly at you as soon as you rounded the corner of the sidewalk. Your cheeks flamed as you glared at him, thankful your sunglasses hid you at least a little bit from the seemingly millions of people, now staring at you.

"Get famous friends and now you think you can be late."

Your elbow dug into his side as you passed him. The doors to the sports bar, you used to be a regular at, opened with a ring as he mumbled under his breath, dutifully following behind you as he rubbed the sore spot on his side.

The long table that was once filled with your handful of single friends was now filled to the brim with the original three and their partners. You were the only singleton, the lone warrior, or at least that's what they all thought.

The decision to not go public was made almost immediately by the three of you. No media coverage seemed like the smart move for everyone involved.

The only exception you made to the keep-it-under-wraps rule was your immediate family and your one best friend, Sam, who promptly told his own girlfriend.

"You should go out with our travel agent, Y/N, he's really sweet. Not much of a looker though." Lisa, a girl you didn't even like, piped up halfway through your pasta dish. Your teeth ground together as you smiled up to her over your fork.

"Might as well, Y/N." Sam's girlfriend, Casey, snickered from the other side of you. Her laughter was cut short by your foot kicking her leg under the table, hard.

"I'm good." You huffed, you didn't know how much longer you could take sitting here with all of them trying to set you up with friends of friends, or worse their sad sympathetic smiles everytime one of the couples at the table did something cute.

"You could tell them." Sam whispered to you when he saw your mounting frustration with the situation. Most of your friends had married assholes who had no problem voicing their opinions about your love life.

By the third beer and your slice of cheesecake, you had relaxed a bit. The conversation had finally gone from your lack of love life towards everyone's children or careers. The end of the long lunch was finally on the horizon and you could successfully ditch having to hang out with all of them again for at least another 6 months when your phone started buzzing out of control from your purse behind you.

All 6 people who sat around the table with you seemed to be more invasive than you originally thought. All set of eyes stared you down as you unlocked your phone to silence it, when the notifications caught your attention.

So many fucking notifications.

Every account you had, countless tags and mentions, tweets from every person in America, it felt like.

Thank fuck, @Y/N_Y/L/N can FINALLY leave @Harry_Styles alone!

Ding, Dong, the third wheel is DEAD @Y/N_Y/L/N

Hope @Y/N_Y/L/N is recovering well from @Harry_Styles choosing the better girl @Florence_Pugh

#Florencerry #Farry #Florry CONFIRMED. #ByebyebyeY/N

That familiar feeling of dread flooded your stomach, your tongue grew thick with anxiety as your eyes scanned so many messages. Your silence covered the entire table, or maybe it was the ringing in your ears that made it feel that way.

You said you wanted them to go on a date, not this.

No, this, this was awful. A picture of your two partners with their tongue shoved down each other's throats. They were in a corner, away from everybody, trying to be as private as possible. Harry's hand wrapped in her hair, her own hands grasped the back of his shirt.

Why wouldn't they be more careful? Where did this leave you three?

Where did it leave you?

"Everything okay?" Sam's voice sliced through your anxious thoughts.

"Just my brother." You lied as smoothly as you could. Your phone quickly locked and placed back into your purse, a wad of money thrown on the table for your meal. "He's at my apartment, got to go let him in."

"Okay?" Sam's voice trailed behind you as you rushed through the doors to the restaurant and back to the safety of your own apartment.

>>>

"What the fuck?" Florence groaned, her pillow thrown off the bed, towards Harry's phone that wouldn't stop ringing.

"'M up." He mumbled, his blurry eyes barely opening. They definitely shouldn't have had all those drinks with lunch.

"Wot?" He grumbled, half-asleep into his phone, not even paying attention to the name that flashed across the screen.

"Why didn't you tell me you're going out with Florence? This is great for the movie!" Jeff cheered, loudly, way too loudly. Harry's eyebrows pulled together as he pulled the phone back from his face.

Florence gasped, shooting up from her place, phone in hand as she panicked. Her eyes widened larger and larger, the longer she looked at her phone.

"Oh no." She whispered, her phone pushed in Harry's face that fell into a frown the second his eyes focused on the bright screen.

"Well, 'm not-" he cleared his throat that suddenly seemed like the desert. "'M dating her and Y/N."

"At the same time?" Jeff said after a very long and uncomfortable pause. Harry's hand ran through his hair as Florence signaled for him to put Jeff on speaker.

"Yeh, we're all datin'." Harry's lips pursed as he hit the speakerphone button. He wasn't exactly sure what Jeff would say. Sure, he was supportive in the past but this was new territory, at least for Harry.

"Harry…" Jeff sighed through the phone. His voice seemed to make the room go completely still. Everything paused in time. "You can't- listen, it's not a good idea to go public with that."

"Not really y'choice."

"Give it till the movie's over. You and Florence date publicly and promote the movie, once it's done go public then if you still want to."

"We'll talk 'bout it." Harry muttered, the phone call ended as quickly as it started. His phone thrown haphazardly back onto the nightstand beside the bed as he let out a long groan, his hands ran down his face.

"God, Y/N had to see that already. She's probably freaking out." Florence said as she got out of bed, determined to go check on her girlfriend no matter how late it was.

"Jeff was right." Harry said softly, his eyes fixed on the wall opposite of him. The small amount of light that filled the room was barely enough to see the shocked look across Florence's face, but Harry didn't have to see it to know it was there.

Even he was surprised at his own words.

Was he really prepared to give you both up to save his career? Or could he take all the stigma from dating two girls at once? He didn't know and he didn't have time to process.

"You did not just say that."

"What would people think, Flor? 'M a guy, dating two women! I'd be a womanizer and yeh two the bimbos who put up with me datin' each other."

"Wow, Harry." Florence's voice boomed around the room as she threw on her clothes. Angrily stomping around until she was clothed.

"Yeh knew what I meant." He sighed, his head rested in his hands.

"I don't want to hide who I'm with. I'm happy with you two and I can't believe you want to hide that!" She shrieked, her foot stomped on the floor as she glared at him.

Logically, she could understand his reasoning. Emotionally, she was pissed. How could he be thinking of hiding away what you three had? You were the perfect girlfriend and the three of you worked so well together.

"I wanna give it time!" He snapped back, his voice sharp with an anger she hadn't heard before.

"Why?" She asked in a huff, her hands crossed over her chest as she glared at him.

"People are gonna eat her alive. She'll always be the third wheel. If we wait til after the movie maybe it won't be so bad" Harry's words sucked the life right out of Florence. Her chest seemed to deflate as she stared at Harry. Stress, anxiety, and about a million other feelings ran through her all at once.

"Oh." She sighed, the edge of the bed dipped in as she sat down. Both of them silently staring at random objects in the room that suddenly become the most interesting thing.

Both of them wondering where this left the three of you.

>>>

It had been three months, three long and hard months of feeling like the outsider in your relationship. Maybe not in private but in public, you were always the odd man out.

Don't stand too close to Harry.

Don't be too friendly with Florence.

Don't laugh too hard.

Don't smile too much, and for the love of God, do not let anyone catch you hugging each other for too long.

It was hard but as the holidays grew closer and the final scenes of the movie were filmed, you knew the end was just on the horizon. You'd finally be able to hold hands with them in public again. You'd be able to fix Florence's hair or adjust Harry's shirt without being murdered online.

The trivial things that you used to not pay any mind to doing every day were hard to stop doing in public at first. It was a hard road, with too much speculation from fans and a lot of rude tweets about you, but it was worth it. You'd spend your nights wrapped up with the both of them, a smile on your face as you drifted to sleep.

It was hard but worth it. You'd repeat to yourself almost daily.

They cared about you.

They wanted to be with you.

You loved them both.

"Hello?" Your voice cracked as your one hand rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, the other barely opening the front door of Harry's house.

You didn't think he was expecting anyone.

"Is, uh, is my brother here?" Gemma asked from the other side.

"Oh, he and Florence are at an interview for the movie." You said as you opened the door fully for her. Your bare legs that weren't covered by Harry's t-shirt raised at the cool air that ran in. "You can wait for him if you want."

"Yeah, okay." She mumbled as she walked passed you, her eyes barely made contact with your own as she made a fast-paced walk to the living room.

"I'm sorry, if I'd known you were coming I would have picked up or you know, made tea or something." You said awkwardly from the entryway. Your arms crossed over your chest as you walked further into the room.

"No offense or anything," she started as she looked over the semi-messy room and back over to you, "why are you here?"

"What?" You asked with an uncomfortable chuckle, the smile that was there fell from your face.

"This is Harry's house and he's not here. Plus, he's dating Florence." Her pointed words stung deep as her eyes sliced into you.

"He's, he didn't- wait," you stuttered out as you circled to where she was standing, your eyebrows pulled tightly together as you looked into her stern face. "Did he not tell you?"

"Tell me what? That you're Florence's friend?"

The lung was sucked out of your lungs so quickly it felt like you were a fish out of water. Your tongue wetting your lips was the only signal to your brain that you were still alive and moving around, breathing but barely.

"Florence friend, right." You said softly, your eyes stung as you scoffed. You shook your head as you stared at the floor.

It took a millisecond for you to get a hold of yourself. You gave her a sad smile as you walked past her towards the bedroom. His shirt left on the bed and all of your belongings that were in sight packed into your oversized purse.

You were done.

You were so done being the third wheel. You could handle it for a little bit, maybe even forever if it was just with the public, but this was his sister. His family, his inner circle, and he hadn't told her.

"Y/N?" You heard her panicked call of your name from the other room. Your heart sank into the pit of your stomach. Your head thrown back as the tears started to flow down your cheeks.

You couldn't be with one and not the other.

"Where are you going?" Her voice broke as she saw you standing there, your bags packed, his shirt on the bed.

"Y/N?" His voice stung, the betrayal burned in your throat.

"I'm leaving." You said from the middle of the bedroom, your back still faced them as they stood in the doorway.

"You'll be back tomorrow, right?"

"No, Flor, I'm not coming back." You whispered, tears flooded your eyes as you heard her suck in a deep breath.

"Y/N, 'S almost over, one more interview and I prom-"

"Fuck your promises." You yelled as you turned furiously in your spot, your vision blurred as you glared at him.

"Wha-"

"Ask your sister." You scoffed as you stormed past them, your shoulder knocked his as you pushed through the doorway.

"What does that mean?" Florence yelled as she trailed after you. Harry's shocked face and slumped shoulder not deterring her at all from chasing you down.

"It means I'm done." You sniffed, the sleeve of your sweater used as a tissue. "I'm your girlfriend not some slut you welcome in your bed from time to time."

"We don't think that at all!" Florence cried harder, her hands cupped your face as she closed in on you. Your shoulders shrugged, your own hands pushed hers away as you sucked in a deep breath.

"I can't Flor. I just can't."

"Baby, please, lemme explain…" Harry pleaded as he walked up behind Florence, his hands rested on her shoulders, his own green eyes watering. "I didn't it to get out before we were ready. Jus' a little longer and then it goes back to normal."

"This is normal. This will always be our normal." You sobbed, your hands covered your eyes as you turned from the both of them. Your arms hugged around yourself for comfort. "I'm always going to be the one who's in the middle of your relationship."

"You're not!" Florence choked as she held onto Harry's hand.

"I'll fix all of this, please, jus' stay." Harry's hand reached for your own but you jerked your body away.

You couldn't say anything, nothing more would come out. No words made sense to you right now. Your heart was broken and so were you. You turned to leave, walking tight past the shocked Gemma and towards the door.

"I love you." Her words made you pause but only for a second, the doorknob turned in your hand before you could give it a second thought.

Leaving was harder than you ever imagined but you couldn't stay where you felt unwanted. Your sniffling nose and shallow breathing was your only company as you walked the long street back to your car then back to your lonely apartment that shined with object after object that reminded you of them.

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nevertheless-moving · 4 years

Text

Suicidal Misunderstanding VII

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Part I - - - Part II - - - Part III - - - Part IV - - - Part V - - - Part VI

CONTENT WARNING: Please be advised this chapter may contain triggering material. More detail available in tags.

It wasn’t until Anakin was staring at the hot sauce bottles and solitary mysterious green takeout container that he remembered they were at war, and therefore no longer in the habit of restocking the apartment’s cold stasis.

“Obi-Wan, there’s nothing to eat!”

"I know!” came the call back. “I’m trying to meditate!”

Anakin closed the stasis door and walked back out to the common room. Obi-Wan sat crosslegged on the window sill.

“Do or do not, there is no try,” the knight quipped.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes to look fondly at the man standing before him. Maybe tomorrow, when he woke alone in a dusty desert hovel, he would regret letting himself play pretend for so long. Maybe this whole day would fade from his memory like a dream.

But right now, he felt... peaceful. He wouldn’t claim to be satisfied by the explanations he imagined for Anakin, but it would have been far more disturbing if he somehow came up with an actually sympathetic justification for genocide. He got to say and hear a number of goodbyes. He even got to cry over Anakin with the comfort of his presence.

Now he had to let go, to be there for Luke. (And he could always get more spice...)

“I guess if you need to meditate, I can go pick us up food from the Temple Tapcaf.” Anakin offered.

“Thank you, Anakin. Today...helped. More than I can explain.” Obi-Wan said softly.

“I- I don’t really deserve that. Considering it was all my fault.” Anakin bowed his head, helpless for words, but uncomfortable with being praised.

“Not every terrible thing that has happened is your fault. You made a series of terrible choices, yes. But there were, there are, other dark forces at work and not a single Jedi in the order was able to stop them. At least for a short time today I was able to set that aside, so for what it’s worth, thank you.”

“Kriff.” Anakin said shocked. “Of course there’s more. Ok. That’s all right, we-” he was cut off by a growl from Obi-Wan’s stomach.

A snort of laughter escaped before Anakin smacked a hand over his mouth. “Alright, I’m going to the Tapcaf, you just...meditate until I get back.”

Obi-Wan swallowed and nodded, “I love you so much.”

“Force Obi-Wan, you’re going to make me start crying again.” He pulled him into a bear hug. “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m not gone, ok? Just...meditate. And drink some water.”

"Hmm, I don’t know. Some of my best choices recently have been stupid,” Obi-Wan laughed. The words were light, but Anakin felt a prickle of unease, a hint of danger. There was no clear cause, and Obi-Wan seemed relaxed but...

Anakin gripped his Master’s shoulders, staring him dead in the eye. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

Obi-Wan sighed, “I promise.” He pulled Anakin down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Goodbye, Anakin.”

"I’ll be back in 20 minutes.” He paused, then mumbled, “i love you too” before speeding out the door.

Obi-Wan settled back into meditation, reaching inwards. Everything but his body and the light within faded. He magnified his hunger, his thirst, visualizing the pack of dried jerky in his hut, the precious jars of water in the basement. He could almost feel the heat that never quite abandoned Tatooine, even during the short nights. He opened his eyes

and saw the temple apartment.

He shut them again quickly. He was sure he could snap himself out of this. He sank deeper inward, careful to leave his shields perfectly intact. With the galaxy as dim as it was, a real show of force had the potential to grab attention across star systems. Force purging toxins, fortunately, was more a matter of internal concentration than outward power. It was one of the first skills Obi-Wan had truly mastered as a Jedi, thanks to numerous kidnappings at the start of his apprenticeship and hard drinking towards the end.

It was uncomfortable to be that keenly aware of one’s kidneys, but Obi-Wan managed. It was less intense than a healing trance, anyway. His heart rate increased as various metabolic processes sped up- and almost immediately slowed down. Huh. The drug must of almost run its natural course, and now he

still in the temple.

Kark. Shit.

‘Breathe’ he thought. Stress was only going to increase his chances of a stroke. Alright, so meditation wasn’t working. Maybe he could try for longer, but part of him was nervous that if ‘Anakin’ returned he’d lose the willpower, and so far the passage of time had been extremely linear. He was too invested in the fantasy at this point for anything easy.

Remember your training. Your eyes can deceive you, do not trust them.

Padawans were taught three main methodologies to move beyond mindtricks, hallucinations, visions, and the like. Looking In, Reaching Out, and Breaking Out.

Looking in wasn’t working. That left the other two options. In the past, when his senses were lying to him he could always trust in the force, but now...it was just too much risk. Reaching out like that, with his whole self, meant the chance of finding someone.

That left breaking out. Obi-Wan jumped up, staring intensely at the details in the molding, the stains on the carpet, at everything. At no point today had he spotted objects fading to grey in the corner his vision, or ripple as memories from different time frames overlapped, but surely there must be some weak point.

Nothing.

Shit, he really had stayed too long. Alright then, time for more uncivilized measures.

He walked to the kitchen and pulled their butcher’s vibroblade from its block, holding it to his neck, then hesitated.

This had to be done, but it didn’t make it any less unsettling. It was his own fault for lingering in the delusion so long; all the more palatable paths to escape had closed off, and after all he had been through he refused to die from a drug overdose. Gods, it might take years for someone to find the body.

He steeled himself, bringing the blade back up decisively only to drop it with a clatter. Pressing a hand to his throat, he was unnerved but not entirely surprised to find a stinging line of pain. His hand came away wet with blood. He instinctively pressed both hands to the cut, pulse rapid and heavy and slippery beneath his palms.

It’s just a hallucination. It’s just an extremely vivid hallucination.

A thought occurred to Obi-Wan then, and he felt something in the pit of his stomach drop in horror.

What if...what if the blade was real. What if he was actually moving around his home right now, hazily sleepwalking in a pantomime of the peaceful stroll and tender embraces he was imagining. It would explain the immediate relief from the water this morning...hadn’t he found his way to food and water even dazed from sleep-debt and blood-loss during the war?

He had a vibroblade in the desert too...

His pulse pounded harder beneath his hands. The cut wasn’t even that deep, but for the first time Obi-Wan felt the true existential horror of his current trap well up. If he didn’t know where the walls were...how could he escape.

He took a deep breath, acknowledging and letting go of his panic.

He had the force. He would just have to be delicate in his application. He picked up the bloodied tool from the floor but decided to simply to clip it to his belt for now. A force-null object would be harder to distinguish at first touch.

Obi-Wan walked to his temple bedroom and opened the barest crack in his shields, just enough to reach out, get a sense of existing currents in the force. He stirred at one until a small vortex of light formed. To anyone looking, it would appear a naturally occurring, low-powered whirlpool, common enough on Tattoine. Any gentle moves he made in the minutes before it fell apart would hopefully be obscured by its wake.

He hesitantly laid a hand on the lightsaber on his bedside table, lowering his shields a little further. His heart sunk when he realized that his memory had even recreated the perception of force-imbued temple walls in the periphery. The Kyber in his saber reverberated with a familiar song. He jerked his hand away. That felt too much like his real lightsaber. He couldn’t risk it.

Before Obi-Wan truly began to panic again, he realized something missing. Anakin’s- Darth Vader’s saber. Since picking it up on Mustafar, the crystal in it had screamed at him, halfway to corruption. When he touched the blade he could almost feel... feel what horrors it had been bent to commit.

Most of the time he left it buried under a rock pile in his basement, too afraid to work on healing it.

He couldn’t hear it now- but he could feel the memory of what it used to be.

It sat innocently on his Anakin’s bedside table. There was a tinge of darkness to it of course- this saber had only ever known war. But when he rested a hand on the blade it was clear this belonged to the memory he had walked with today, not the tyranny of reality.

Grasping it firmly, he marched back to the windowsill and settled, intent on his choice. Sunsets here couldn’t compare to tattooine- they were just too different. The binary play transformed the infinite horizon. It was something on Tatooine he unabashedly marveled at.

Courasant, on the other hand, transformed the sun into a reflection of itself. Untold millions of transparisteel buildings refracted the star painfully at some points while casting shadows on the rest. The filter of light through constant smog resulted in strange shades of neon green and blood red. It was beautiful, but uncomfortable to look at too long.

He closed his eyes and pressed the saber to his chest.

---

Anakin was impatiently waiting in the hot service line when the urge to return to his apartment insistently welled up again. He pushed it back of course- Obi-Wan needed food and Anakin couldn’t keep putting his own selfish impulses in front of his Master’s wellbeing.

He held out for a few seconds, but the itch was getting stronger, sharper. He looked down at the tray- it already had most of Obi-Wan’s cold favorites, but he really wanted to get him his favorite soup if the line would just move a little faster. He jolted when, for the first time that day, Obi-Wan’s shielding thinned the slightest amount. Not enough to get anything clear, but the fact that there was movement at all...

He left the line; they could always come back together if Obi-Wan wanted. Hells, maybe they’d do a late night visit to Dex’s for some real comfort food. Anakin still couldn’t get a sense of what Obi-Wan was up to through their muffled bond. He felt a buzz in his ears, not unlike the moment before an enemy blow.

He picked up speed, tea sloshing in its thermoflask. An elder looked at him annoyed as darted around him.

He started speed walking in earnest as the feeling got more intense. A sandwich fell to the wayside.

Speed walking quickly switched to jogging, then running; there was a shout of complaint as he ditched the whole tray carelessly behind.

He took the last few hallways at a full-out force-assisted sprint, the Force itself screaming at him to move. A small part of his mind thought we’re safe inside the temple Obi-Wan promised not to do anything stupid i’m going to get such shit for freaking out over nothing.

He sensed nothing from Obi-Wan over the bond; not a hint of fear or anger or surprise. He blurred around the last corner, feeling like he might throw up with his increasing, unexplained panic.

Not caringabout anything butgettingto Obi-Wan beforeitstoolate he smashed down the door at the same moment Obi-Wan, sitting peacefully by the window, turned on the lightsaber pointing directly at his heart.

Time seemed to slow. Splinters of the door frame hung in the air as Anakin desperately pulled the lightsaber away from Obi-Wan in the half-second between activation and ignition.

He wasn’t quite fast enough.

Blue plasma pierced Obi-Wan’s chest as time caught up. Pieces of the wall shattered like shrapnel as he turned, shocked to see Anakin. The saber flew away in a straight arrow.

Anakin threw himself to Obi Wan’s side, wildly trying to draw heat away from the searing hole before it could vaporize the surrounding flesh. He couldn’t tell what the saber had pierced, or how far it had gone in considering its last second movement.

One hand trained on a hundred battle fields robotically reached for his comm-unit to call for emergency medical assistance. His mind however, had largely been left behind a few minutes ago, when he was trying to pick what Obi-Wan would want to eat for dinner.

What came out his mouth was more incoherent shrieking than anything else, but he had at least called the correct line for temple aid.

He threw down the comm, focus intent on controlling the smoldering burn. The air around them seemed to boil and Obi-Wan started struggling to get away. Anakin bodily held him down, finally finding words,

“What the FUCK, OBI-WAN! YOU LITERALLY JUST PROMISED NOT TO DO ANYTHING STUPID! YOU PROMISED!”

“that’s why- hkk I have to” Obi-Wan rasped.

“Karking Fuck.YOU- STOP MOVING!”

Anakin felt a twinge of danger come from the side but was too focused to do anything but shift his body as shield. A sharp pain pierced his gut but he ignored it.

The air crackled with heat and power as the wound beneath him cooled. A faint trickle of dark blood oozed out, probably burns breaking from recent movement, considering the instant cauterization. He couldn’t see any light coming through, which meant he had moved the saber at least a quarter klick before it activated, Anakin thought semi hysterically.

Finally, someone showed up to investigate the disturbance. In truth, probably less than a minute had passed since Anakin entered the room, but he really didn’t care.

“HELP ME!” Anakin shouted.

“What happened?” Mace Windu asked grimly, falling to the ground next to them. Not waiting for an answer, he set his lit saber aside and placed his hand to Obi-Wan’s forehead, stilling the violent thrashing.

Anakin opened his mouth but he just didn’t have the words. He didn’t know.

“General Skywalker, report.” Mace Windu commanded sharply.

“I left him alone to get dinner for us. I ran back and when I broke open the door he was holding the lightsaber to his chest. I tried...to pull it away. It pierced him, and I’ve been trying to manage the initial burn risk. I called for medi but I don’t know their eta.”

“They’re behind me. How did you get stabbed?” the Master demanded.

“How did I what?” Anakin looked down to see a vibroblade sticking out from his left side. Right, the pain from before. Obi-Wan suddenly mustered up the energy to wake up despite his state and Windu’s compulsion. He looked around wildly before yanking the knife from Anakin’s side.

Anakin gasped, but managed to still his brother’s hand using the force before he could finish bringing it up to his neck, which Anakin just noticed was bloody.

“STOP TRYING TO DIE!” Anakin screeched.

“...I’m...not....I’m....trying.....to...”

But before Obi-Wan could finish the sentence, the healers finally arrived, pushing Windu aside to grab hold of Anakin and Obi-Wan. He could feel a buzz of energy go through him, stopping at the growing damp patch at his side. He tried to push the man away but the heat in the room was starting to make him dizzy

“I’m fine! Focus on Obi-Wan.”

Mace placed a hand on his shoulder, and in the gentlest voice he had ever heard from the man, said, “You’ve been stabbed Anakin. Let the healers help both of you- you’ve done well looking out for him.”

Obi-Wan, still occasional thrashing was being loaded onto a hoverstrech for transport. A second stretcher waited next to it.

“Master Windu! He’s fighting us,” Master Che called sharply. “Can you tell us what happened?”

“Master Kenobi tried to kill himself,” Windu replied flatly. “His wounds are self inflicted and he’s violently fighting assistance”

There was a beat as that information was processed. Knight Bant, who must have arrived at some point, said in slightly less flat voice, “He displayed erratic behavior earlier today, and I ruled out drug interactions.”

“Thank you, Knight Bant.” Master Che plunged a syringe of some kind into Obi-Wans thigh. He finally stopped attempting to fight, falling down onto the board. “Red team, with me. Orange, you have Skywalker,” She instructed sharply.

Anakin numbly watched most of the healers leave with Obi-Wan through a hole in the wall. He slowly started to stand and somehow ended up guided into a seat on the hoverboard. Looking down, he was surprised to see his tunic cut away in favor of a large bacta patch.

“Hey,” he protested. “Who stabbed me?”

“We can discuss that after you have surgery,” A Human healer replied. Master Covamos, he thought.

“This is my fault” Anakin said, suddenly urgent. “I shouldn’t have left him. He told me goodbye, he was saying goodbye all day, I should have...”

“You saved his life,” Windu interrupted. “You got to him just in time, don’t waste your energy on should-haves. Now sleep.”

Anakin wanted to argue more, but instead found himself laying down, vision blurring. His face felt damp, had he been stabbed more than once? Windu said a few more words he couldn’t quite make out. There was a brief stinging sensation, then everything faded away.

----

Part VIII

#star wars #potentially triggering #self harm #attempted suicide #blood #graphic depictions of injury #violence #character is not actually suicidal but is severely divorced from reality due to space wizard plot device #suicidal misunderstanding au #my au #star wars au no 27 #angst #obi wan kenobi needs a hug #KRIFF this was intense to write #i need a hug #jeez #story was supposed to go emotional catharsis Healing TRAUMA healing Emotional Catharsis but i may have played myself with the middle bit #hope you enjoy :)#or at least suffer with me

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spockfan · 3 years

Note

Hi - how long have you been into Star Trek? (You said recently but that could have been written years ago?) However long it's been, WOW do you have great ST content! I already reblogged a lot and there's so much more I didn't have time to get to yet.

Hi! First of all, thank you so much! I honestly didn't expect that I'd be posting stuff other than reblogs of things I find neat (which is why there is no tagging system yet) but I really enjoyed watching TOS that I just needed to air some of my thoughts in some way.

This little side blog is pretty new, created right at the end of August. Made because I got curious about Spock's character whose concept I really liked when I finally got curious enough to look up his general background (watched him from the new movies before but didn't really pay attention much). I was surprised that the blog name was available and I regret making it as a sideblog as I can't readily reply to posts because it confuses me when I see my main account name (which I don't really use.)

The answer to your question is since September 5, 2021, the day I watched the first episode of TOS. Currently, I'm halfway through season 2.

The date is exact because, prior to watching, to make things more fun, I made Bingo cards with what I thought would be common Star Trek tropes and that first Bingo card is saved in my tablet.

Before TOS, I've watched the reboot movies when they came out and although I enjoyed them, to myself who had no other background and appreciation for the world and the characters, they were ultimately no different from any other blockbuster movie–enjoyable momentarily but not something I would dwell on. I was also a bit familiar with ST:Discovery because I was told a bit about its plot. Also Galaxy Quest but I didn't relate it to Star Trek before.

Given the limited knowledge, I had a lot of misconceptions about the series so my first few Bingo cards barely got any marks. It wasn't really a show that I expected to take seriously so I put stuff like:

- Kirk flirts with pretty women

- Scotty beams people up

- Spock says something insensitve

- Enterprise goes 'pew pew'

- He's dead, Jim or Someone dies.

Naturally, I didn't get Bingo much during the first few episodes but I realized that I was really enjoying the show. The characters are memorable, the themes are simple but thoughtful, while it does tend to be obvious when the writing is confined by its era, one gets the sense that the ideas must have been innovative at the time. Most importantly, it's very fun.

I've stopped doing the Bingo cards since I've already won and I've gotten better at knowing what recurring elements are in the show. Some of my favorite updated Bingo items though:

- The Pringle-Mailbox gun is used

- A Utopia is destroyed or There is no such thing as paradise when the Enterprise visits your planet

- Not enough budget for the captain's shirt or Kirk fanservice

- Kirk illogics a computer/AI/robot to death

- Formless alien or Alien is just human with weird clothes

- Bad guy has bad guy makeup and Females (and Kirk) get better glowing lighting

- Kirk x Enterprise as the One True Ship gets mentioned

- Omnipotent aliens give someone time-out

I try to watch at least an episode a day right after work when I have the time. Sometimes I push it to two episodes because ♡.

#my-posts #ask-replies #star trek the original series #star trek tos

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softest-cinnamon-roll · 4 years

Note

i don't know if your requests are open or not but: can you please write richie talking about eddie on his comedy show and eddie watching from the wings and just realises how in love he is with richie.

(sorry this took so long, I hope you enjoy it either way!)

* * * * *

Eddie watched the colour drain from Richie’s face as he made a beeline to the sink after hearing the roaring crowd from beyond the red curtain and he followed him quickly. He placed his hands on his best friends’ shoulders, squeezing them in an aid of comfort, but it didn’t seem to help as Richie only wretched more brutally.

“Rich, come on, you’ve done this thousands of times! What’s the difference?” Eddie asked, trying to settle Richie’s mind about the whole thing. This was a huge deal as after years of performing his stand up in clubs and at open mic nights and then gaining a spot on the radio, Richie finally had sold out his own show.

Richie pulled back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, staring at Eddie as though he had grown an extra head, “Yeah, Eds, in bars and clubs! This is a fully sold out hall! I’ve never done this before, what if I screw it up?”

The panic was clear on Richie’s face and Eddie shook his head, squeezing Richie’s shoulders. “You have nothing to be worried about. You’re hilarious, Rich and all those people out there have bought tickets to see you because they also find you funny. You could talk about boats for an hour and a half and they’d still laugh at your jokes!”

An announcement came over the PA system, letting the audience know that the show would start in ten minutes and they should take their seats. Richie paled once more and Eddie gripped his shoulders tighter. “Eds…” He breathed, swallowing thickly.

“Listen to me, if at any point in the set you feel scared or unconfident, just look at me.” Eddie cut him off. “I’ll be right here in the wings, okay? I’m not going anywhere. You’ve got this Rich, this is everything you’ve always wanted and it’s right at your fingertips, now go take it. Okay?”

Richie ran his hands through his hair, swallowing thickly as the lights dimmed in preparation for him to go on. “You know something, Eds? I don’t think I could have done this if you weren’t right here beside me.” He placed a hand on Eddie’s shoulder and squeezed it tight.

Just then the announcer came over the intercom, asking the audience to take their seats as the show was about to begin. A few moments later, the lights on the stage came on and the announcer spoke once more; “Now, without further ado, may I introduce your entertainment for the night, up and coming comedian: Richie Tozier!”

The audience burst into applause as Richie walked backwards to the stage, never taking his eyes off of Eddie until he couldn’t anymore and turned to the mic, greeting the audience and opening the show with a joke to set up the whole evening.

Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off of Richie, at the way he thrived on the stage, working the audience with his smile and charisma. He knew Richie was funny, Eddie had been to see a few of his shows at the bars he frequented at, but this was different. There was something new and exciting about watching Richie perform in front of a real audience who had bought tickets to come and see him, as well as on a real stage.

It all changed about halfway through the show. One moment Richie was joking about a childhood memory, and the next he turned his head in Eddie’s direction, their eyes meeting. “You know, through all of the childhood trauma I had to endure growing up in a homophobic town in Maine, but there was one thing that I would never regret about it. That thing, or rather person, is my best friend. All jokes aside, I have six friends, we all grew up together and called ourselves ‘The Losers Club’. Everyone hated us, but we didn’t care because we had each other and we knew that, one day we’d be getting out of there and those assholes would be working in a McDonalds or washing our BMW’s.”

The audience broke into a laugh, softer this time, as though they could read Richie’s tone of seriousness. “I loved them all, but there was one certain friend that meant a little more to me than the others. His name is Eddie Kaspbrak, he is backstage tonight as my wingman, he always has my back and I could never thank him enough. He is the one constant in my life and I guess I just wanted to...thank him for being there for me even though I can be a bit tough to handle.”

Eddie swallowed, his throat closing up as he moved a little closer to the stage, a little closer to Richie. There was something fluttering in his stomach, something that had been there for a long time, but Eddie was ignoring. Hearing the way Richie was talking about him on that stage, in front of all those people, it made all those feelings rise to the top once more. He broke into a smile, shaking his head a little as Richie continued with his show, breaking into another perfectly timed joke.

He took a glance out at the audience and his eye caught onto someone sitting in the third row close to the right side of the stalls. When Richie admitted his passion was to go into comedy and perform in front of large audiences, Eddie made it his mission to research talent scouts. Right there, where his eyes had spotted, was one of the most well known scouts of the comedian sector...and he was laughing.

“Let me tell you about the time my friend Staniel got gum stuck on his hair and we had to lather it in peanut butter…” Richie spoke into the mic on the stage and Eddie turned his attention back to the star, a softer smile making it way onto the stage.

He was in love with Richie Tozier, and after the show, he was finally going to tell him.

* * * * *

Tags permanently

@bi-bi-richie @bovaque @derrylosers @eds-trashmouth @eduardoandale @girasol-eddie @halfway-happy353 @inthebreadbinwrites @isaacslaheys @its-stranger-than-you-think @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @lifesucksheres20bucks @loserslibrary @losers-gotta-stick-together @madidraw @mars-14 @marsisaplanetyall @moonlightrichie @njess04 @oldguybones @pink-psychic @purplepoisonedgem @rebecca-the-queen @reddie-to-cryy @reddiesetandgo @richietoaster @richietoizer @roobarrtrashmouth @rreddies @s-onora @s-s-georgie @sedanleystanley @sloppybitchreddie @spirited-marvel @stellarbisexual @studpuffin @that-weird-girls-blog @thegoshdiddlydangdoor @thejadeazalea @thorn-harvester-ven @tinyarmedtrex @tozier-boy @tozierking @toziesque @trashmouthtozierr @twoidiotsinl0ve @violetreddie @wilding-throught-thehallways @xandertheundead

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #writing tag

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sociallyawkward--fics · 4 years

Text

Last Christmas

Here it is, lol. The fic I wrote last night with Wham!’s “Last Christmas” on repeat for literally Three Hours Straight lol. It is entirely unedited except for me having a friend read it over briefly and them go “you’re missing a period here” and nothing else lol. Please be kind though, I have not written for months and any Christmas fics I’m posting are more just warm-ups to get me back to the level of writing I was before I accidentally took a break, cuz no way I’m jumping back into my Big Projects without getting myself back up to par lol

ALSO, I know Jaskier seems like,,, really aggressive towards Yen in this fic. She's not meant to be a villain! Jaskier just is jealous and sad so he takes it out on her a little bit, which is definitely not the right thing to do but I think it's a very human thing to do. After this I imagine them going for coffee or smth and just lovingly trash-talking Geralt and realizing "wow we can actually be decent friends" lol

------------

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types; Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game); The Witcher (TV); Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski

Relationship: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Characters: Jaskier | Dandelion; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia; Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg; Triss Merigold; Zoltan Chivay; Iorveth (The Witcher); Eskel (The Witcher); Vernon Roche

Additional Tags: eskel triss iorveth and roche are barely-there btw; Jealous Jaskier | Dandelion; Mistletoe; Getting Together; Misunderstandings; Miscommunication; Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg; Alcohol; Drinking; Smoking; (very briefly) - Freeform; Communication; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings; Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia; Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia; Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion; Mutual Pining; Kissing; Hugs; Alternate Universe - Modern Setting; Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers; Alternate Universe - No Powers; Holidays; Christmas; Christmas Party

Word Count: 3614 words

[ao3 link]

------------------------------------------

It took an embarrassing amount of time for Jaskier to work up the courage to leave his car. Instead he sat there, heat off and car growing increasingly frosty, forehead against the steering wheel as he bemoaned his own very existence. He did not want to go to this party, which was very out of character for him.

But Jaskier couldn’t take another repeat of last year’s holiday party. And he knew the second he saw Geralt, he would be back there again.

They had both been decently tipsy, which was their first mistake, but Jaskier knew that neither of them were drunk. That’s why he had been so shocked when Geralt made the first move, pressing him up against the wall to the men’s room and ravishing his mouth. They’d gone home together to Jaskier’s flat and had a wonderful night together, but Geralt had been gone come morning.

They never spoke of that night. And by the next week, Geralt had been back in his on-again, off-again relationship with Yennefer.

Jaskier thought he’d gotten over it. As much as he didn’t regret it, it was clear that Geralt did, and he wasn’t going to push his feelings onto the man when they were so clearly unwanted. It was a miracle their friendship survived it, with how testy they had been with each other for weeks afterward.

Jaskier took a deep breath and tightened his scarf around his neck, finally leaving his car to make his way into the hotel ballroom that Foltest had booked for the night. At least their work holiday parties weren’t held in the offices, Jaskier wouldn’t have been able to force himself back to work after last year if they were.

Jaskier’s traitorous eyes immediately sought out Geralt the moment he walked in. He wasn’t hard to find, with his striking silver hair and refusal to wear anything but black. He stuck out like a sore thumb, in the sea of red and green and gold. But god, did he look good. Unfortunately, he was already occupied with the only other person in the room who refused to wear color: Yennefer.

Jaskier forced his eyes away, directing them instead towards the makeshift bar. Zoltan was already there, and, judging by the red on his cheeks, already several drinks in. Jaskier couldn’t exactly judge. He was going to need quite a few drinks to get through this night as well.

“Good old Dandelion!” Zoltan crowed as he approached, words only slightly slurred.

“Zoltan,” Jaskier greeted with an easy smile, nodding at the bartender. “When are you ever going to give up on that silly nickname?”

Zoltan snorted. “You’re the one who calls himself a flower, Julian.”

Jaskier shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Soon enough, Jaskier had a drink in his hand and an earful of Zoltan’s voice, accent only growing thicker and harder to understand the drunker he got. He was barely following what Zoltan was talking about, anymore. Something about his ex father-in-law’s business tanking? He seemed rather pleased by it, in any case. Jaskier probably would be to, if he wasn’t still so anxious.

“What’s got a stick up yer ass?” Zoltan asked after a while, winding down from his latest story.

“Just… not in a partying mood, I suppose.”

Zoltan laughed uproariously. “You? Not in a party mood? Never thought I’d see the day!”

Jaskier gave a half-hearted smile, knowing Zoltan was too far gone to notice that fact, and let his eyes wander the crowd. After a few drinks, he was beginning to feel pleasantly tipsy. The idea of lasting out the party was actually beginning to feel manageable, though he still felt like giving Yennefer and Geralt a wide berth. They always exploded at these things, and Jaskier didn’t want to be caught in the middle of that.

Again.

That was one fight their friendship almost hadn’t survived, and it was the worst six months of Jaskier’s life. And that was including the past twelve months after the last holiday party.

“Come on, Dandelion,” Zoltan said, and Jaskier’s attention was drawn back to the bar. “Sit down for a game of cards with me! Or perhaps a round of dice?”

Jaskier laughed, his first true laugh of the night. “I know better than to gamble with you, old friend. It’s about time I mingled, don’t you think? Give the masses what they desire.”

Zoltan laughed again and gave him a sloppy wink. “Go get ‘em, tomcat. I’ll find some other poor fool to swindle.”

Jaskier grinned. “I don’t doubt it.”

Jaskier slipped away from the bar and into the crowd. He greeted people with hugs and kisses on the cheek, making them laugh and shove him away with teasing grins. He twirled between groups of people in a carefully perfected dance, muscle memory even with the alcohol in his system.

Unfortunately, that muscle memory rather quickly led him to Geralt’s current circle of companions. Yennefer and Triss were there, clearly making an intense effort to not be at each other’s throats. Eskel was there, which wasn’t surprising: as much as a sweetheart as he was, Eskel’s social skills definitely needed some development, and he tended to use Jaskier and Geralt as a social crutch (despite the fact that his brother was even worse with people than he was). Iorveth and Vernon Roche were on opposite sides of the little circle the group had formed, and Jaskier dreaded that disaster waiting to happen.

Really, how did Geralt attract such dramatic people to him so easily?

Despite how suddenly off-kilter Jaskier felt being so close to Geralt, last year flashing through his mind, he knew he couldn’t show it. Geralt would notice, and then it would be awkward for them both, and Jaskier would never forgive himself for ruining Geralt’s Christmas two years in a row.

So he flitted around the group, being his charming self. His smile felt forced as he gave Iorveth and Roche (very awkward) one-armed hugs. His stomach churned as he kissed Triss on the cheek. His balance felt off as he waltzed into Eskel’s arms for one of his patented bear hugs (though that was likely the alcohol, now that he thought about it).

“How is it that you’re already drunk, Jaskier?” Geralt said as Jaskier pulled out of Eskel’s arms.

Jaskier shot him a cheeky grin. “Not drunk, my dear--friend. My dear friend. Merely tipsy.”

“With a stutter like that forming?” Yennefer teased, holding out her hand.

Jaskier indulged her dramatics and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, chest burning white hot all the while. His smile was probably slightly too-sharp when he stood back up again, but he couldn’t be bothered to fix it.

“The heavier side of tipsy, perhaps,” Jaskier replied, smoothly sliding in beside Geralt to drape himself over Geralt’s shoulders.

A chorus of titters and chuckles went through the circle and Jaskier furrowed his brow. He rubbed his face and ran a hand through his hair, searching for imperfections but finding none. He then looked toward Geralt for an explanation, but the poor man looked just as confused as Jaskier was.

“Aren’t you wondering why none of us were standing all that close to Geralt?” Triss asked, that coy smile Jaskier was all-too-familiar with making its way onto her lips.

And now that she mentioned that, it was odd. Yennefer was usually glued to Geralt’s other side, and Triss was almost always trying to butt her way in. Her jealousy tended to be a great deal more obvious than Jaskier’s, deliberately trying to provoke the two of them. Jaskier simply got drunk and wrote songs about unrequited love, he knew better than to try and put himself between them.

Roche rolled his eyes as Jaskier and Geralt still just stared at the group rather dumbly. He pointed upwards and their eyes followed his finger.

Geralt, very unfortunately, was halfway into a doorway. Taped to the top of the frame of said doorway was a little sprig of green. Jaskier felt his heart stop. He had to swallow to keep the bile from rising up in his throat. He pulled away from where he was leaning on Geralt. The group was still laughing and teasing good-naturedly, but Jaskier felt like his world was crashing down around him. He looked toward Eskel for help, being the kindest of the group.

Only Eskel just shrugged with a grin. “It is tradition.”

“Oh come on, now,” Yennefer said, her voice twisting around Jaskier’s throat like a noose. “We’re all adults here. Just get it over with.”

Jaskier slowly met Geralt’s eyes. He was impossible to read, even moreso than normal, and Jaskier felt that familiar pit open up in his stomach. He needed to get this over with and then smoothly make his escape. Perhaps claim he’d had more to drink than he thought and needed to call a cab.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked quietly, barely more than a whisper.

Jaskier gave him a small smile and leaned forward. He pressed a feather-light kiss to the scruff of Geralt’s cheek before pulling away, his heart not able to take much more than that.

Jaskier couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes as he walked away.

Jaskier’s kiss was a barely-there peck to the cheek. Before Geralt could even hope to respond, he was gone.

The group’s teasing had quieted down, and Geralt dared to look up. Iorveth and Roche seemed confused, not close enough to the rest of the group to be caught up on the drama. Eskel seemed torn between beating himself up and beating Geralt up. Triss seemed guilty.

And Yennefer was just smug.

Geralt found himself grinding his teeth. Of course she was behind this (though it was clear that Triss had some hand in it, as well). Their most recent breakup, for once, had been amicable. The past few years had been hell for them, trying to make their relationship work even though they both knew it was never going anywhere. Jaskier was Yennefer’s last straw.

Geralt was more horrified that Yennefer had so easily picked up on his feelings for Jaskier than hurt by the breakup. If she had picked up on them, then surely Jaskier had?

Is that what that hauntingly sad smile Jaskier gave him before he kissed him was for? Did Jaskier pity him? Was he trying to let Geralt down easy?

“Go after him,” she said simply.

“Yen, this isn’t one of your games--”

“No,” she replied, voice suddenly terse. “So stop treating it like one and act like an adult, Geralt. I think we’ve all had quite enough of you two being like this, and it only got worse after last year’s party.”

“Which you still won’t talk about,” Triss chimed in, raising an eyebrow.

“So go talk to him.”

Geralt resisted the urge to growl. “Fine.”

Jaskier wasn’t hard to find, when you knew him as well as Geralt did. He liked to be high up when he was upset, saying it made him feel like he was getting some perspective on his problems. Geralt liked to joke that it was because he was more at home with his head in the clouds.

Jaskier was on a balcony overlooking the city, a pack of cigarettes sitting on the railing. A lit one rested between his fingers, the smoke curling into the air and entwining with the condensation trailing from his lips thanks to the cold air.

“I thought you quit,” Geralt said quietly.

Jaskier turned his head, not far enough to face Geralt but far enough to let Geralt see the wry half smile on his lips.

“You know how the holidays are,” Jaskier replied, taking a long drag from his cigarette and turning back to the cityscape.

Geralt moved forward to lean against the railing next to him, letting out a heavy sigh and watching the white vapor twist into the air. He didn’t know how to have this conversation. Between the two of them, Jaskier was by far the more emotionally intelligent one. With him shutting down like this, Geralt didn’t know what to say.

“Are you… okay?”

Jaskier snorted. “Yeah, Geralt. I’m great.”

Geralt considered the words for a few moments, turning around the tone of voice in his head. “Sarcasm,” he decided.

It was much easier to decipher when he himself was using it, rather than try to pick out when others were.

Jaskier sighed, hanging his head. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Geralt shook his head. “What’s going on?”

Jaskier took another drag of his cigarette. “Nothing, Geralt. Don’t worry about it.”

Geralt let out a frustrated growl, not sure how else to express himself in the moment. He snatched the pack of cigarettes off the railing (breathing out a sigh of relief when only one was missing -- the one between Jaskier’s fingers) and ripped the lit one out of Jaskier’s hand, tossing both items over the edge of the balcony.

“What the fuck, Geralt?!”

Geralt stared at him. “You told me last time you quit to not let you start up again.”

Jaskier groaned and put his head into his hands. “Shit. I did, didn’t I?”

Geralt hummed an affirmative.

“Aside from saving my lungs, was there something you needed, Geralt?”

Geralt leaned back against the railing, clasping his hands together. “To know what’s had you acting so weird all night.”

He felt Jaskier’s eyes on him, could see him staring out of his peripheral, but Geralt kept his eyes on the lights of the city. With all the light pollution, it was probably as close to stars as they would get without driving out to the mountains.

“You really want to know?” Jaskier asked eventually, his voice low.

“Yes.”

“Tonight I was pressured into kissing the man that broke my heart, about a year ago now.”

Geralt flinched back, finally looking over toward Jaskier. Jaskier was still staring at him, his blue eyes almost seeming to glow in the dark of the balcony.

“Who--Who broke--”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow, face remaining impassive.

Geralt hesitated. “I broke your heart?”

Jaskier sighed and turned away, looking toward the horizon. “Last holiday party, we went home together. We made love for hours. I told you I cared for you deeply. And when I woke up, you were gone.”

Geralt wanted to say something, wanted to defend himself, but his voice felt like it was glued in his throat, unable to escape.

“Barely any time had passed before you were back in Yennefer’s pocket, not a thought given to us. And we never talked about it.”

Geralt swallowed. “I didn’t realize--”

Jaskier threw his hands up in the air, a frustrated laugh escaping his lips. Geralt’s frown deepened when he saw Jaskier’s eyes glistening.

“Didn’t realize what, Geralt? I thought I was being pretty obvious about the fact that I’m in love with you!”

“Yennefer and I broke up,” Geralt said, deciding to tackle the topic he knew how to talk about first.

Jaskier snorted, leaning his back against the railing and crossing his arms. “What else is new?”

Geralt shook his head. “For good, this time.”

Jaskier only stared at him. Geralt huffed out a breath as he searched for his words, running a hand through his hair.

“You know how… Sometimes, you can have a great friendship with each other, but when you try to date you end up being really toxic and horrible to each other? That’s me and Yen.”

“Could’ve told you that three years ago. Oh wait, I did.”

Geralt sighed. “I know. I’m sorry I didn’t listen, Jask. I just… I wanted it to work so bad, we both did. Even though we knew it never would.”

Jaskier looked down at his feet. “I know. I’m sorry for snapping like that.”

“It’s okay.”

Jaskier looked back up at him. “So what was the final nail in the coffin? What sealed the deal for you two?”

Geralt looked away, choosing a specific building to look at and staring at it intensely. His fingers itched to fiddle with something, but he forced them to stay still, clenching the freezing metal of the railing.

“I love Yen. But she and I both realized that I would never love her as much as I loved you.”

The silence stretched on for far too long and Geralt could feel his skin prickling with anxiety. His throat felt like it had swollen shut, making it difficult to breathe and impossible to get any words out. He wanted to look at Jaskier, see his reaction, but his body was locked in place.

“And if you love me so much, Geralt,” Jaskier said, his voice even more icy than the balcony railing leeching the warmth from his fingers, “why did you leave me?”

Geralt gave into the urge to fidget, reaching up for the pendant on his chest. His fingers were clumsy and numb from the cold, making him fumble, but the action was still soothing.

“I didn’t realize you meant it. Jaskier, you flirt with everyone. You’ve probably slept with half the company, and while I don’t judge you for that, I couldn’t help but feel like I was just the next notch in your bedpost.”

Jaskier dropped his face into his hands. “God, Geralt, I only slept with most of those people to try and get over you. You had Yennefer, and I was just me. I knew you would never choose me over her.”

“I am now.”

Jaskier stayed silent for a moment. “And if I decide that it’s too late?”

There was an uncomfortable burning feeling behind Geralt’s eyes and he did his best to push it back down.

“Then I would respect your decision, and hope we could still be friends come tomorrow. I don’t want to lose you, Jask.”

Jaskier didn’t reply.

“I’m sorry I made you wait so long. I’m sorry I was so blind to your feelings.”

“And say we did do this,” Jaskier said, his voice still guarded. “What about Yennefer?”

Geralt shook his head. “There’s nothing left for me and Yen. We’re done hurting each other for a relationship that will never feel good.” Geralt couldn’t help the grin that tugged at his lips as he tacked on, “Plus, with the looks Triss has been shooting her, I don’t think Yennefer will be too lonely.”

Jaskier shot him an incredulous look. “Triss and Yennefer hate each other!”

Geralt chuckled. “Yeah, when I was involved. Yen can, quite frankly, be a jealous bitch, and Triss certainly wasn’t letting up on the flirting.”

Jaskier searched his face. “And Triss?”

“There was never going to be any me and Triss, and she knew that. Honestly, I think her flirting these days has been more to toy with Yen than to actually try and woo me.”

Jaskier turned his gaze toward the night sky, a muddy brown-black-orange that ruined any hope of seeing the stars “Huh.”

“They both know there’s only one person I’m looking to woo me, anyway.”

Geralt watched Jaskier break out in a goofy, giddy smile, clearly involuntarily based on the way he quickly bit his lip to try and suppress it. Slowly, carefully, Geralt reached out for one of Jaskier’s hands, tugging gently until his arms came unravelled.

“I’m so sorry, Jaskier.”

Jaskier shook his head. “I’m sorry, too. I should’ve said something.”

“Can I hug you?”

Jaskier’s goofy smile was back and Geralt felt his heart clench. He hoped to see that smile so much more.

“Only if I can kiss you,” Jaskier replied, bouncing on his toes a little.

Geralt grinned. “I find that an acceptable trade.”

Jaskier laughed then, pulling him into a tight hug. They stayed like that for a long while, sharing heat and just soaking in each other’s presence. Slowly starting to accept that this was real, that this was happening. Geralt clenched his hands tightly into Jaskier’s sweater.

And then, some long minutes later, they pulled back from the hug just enough to press their lips together. It was soft and chaste, but by no means short. Geralt decided that kissing Jaskier felt like coming home.

They slipped away after that, deciding not to head back to the party. Their friends would assume things, sure, but they didn’t care. They had lost time to make up for, they could make up for not saying goodbye later.

Geralt drove them home, back to Jaskier’s flat just like last year. Jaskier fiddled with the radio as the streets blurred around them, trying to find an appropriately-themed holiday station. He burst into cackles the second he found one.

“Tell me this is not Wham!,” Geralt begged.

Jaskier was laughing too hard to reply.

“I hate it,” Geralt said, despite being on the verge of laughter himself. “I hate it so much. Stop laughing, it’s not funny.”

“It’s so funny!” Jaskier wheezed, clutching his stomach as he doubled over in his seat.

Jaskier had only just barely calmed down by the time they got to his flat. They curled up on his ratty old couch with some hot chocolate and put on a Christmas movie, but it became more background noise than anything.

Instead they talked. They talked about their past together and how it hurt them, and their future and how they would prevent that from hurting too. They talked until Geralt’s throat was sore and Jaskier was nodding off on his shoulder. Geralt couldn’t find the energy to carry him to bed, so he simply readjusted their position on the couch to be something more comfortable and settled in to sleep himself.

“L’ve ‘ou” Jaskier breathed out against his neck.

Geralt smiled, closing his eyes. “Love you too, Jaskier.

#witcher #the witcher #geraskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #the witcher fanfic #witcher fanfic #My writing #triss merigold #Yennefer of Vengerberg #zoltan chivay #iorveth #vernon roche #eskel

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litwitlady · 4 years

Text

2x13 Interlude

Takes place immediately after they find Tripp’s body beneath the tool shed and Michael ostensibly moves yet another body. This is very heavy Alex angst - please be warned. Warnings also for anxiety and panic attacks, abuse and violence. The end is slightly fluffy, I promise. But it takes a minute to get there. I wrote this mostly for myself, but thought I’d share anyway.

After Michael leaves, Alex slips back into the house and heads directly to his old bedroom. The one he shared with Flint for so many long, miserable years. The door is ajar, and he nudges it fully open. He sucks in a breath as he looks around and notices that next to no memories from his childhood remain. The walls have been repainted; all his stuff removed – likely thrown out with some random week’s trash. In the corner by the window, a single desk and chair remain. Both flea market finds he and Greg had hauled home one Christmas. Alex walks towards the small desk and opens the top right drawer wondering if it’s possible his old eyeliner had somehow managed to escape his father’s purge. But no – just a bare, wood drawer. Only the memory lingers.

Alex sits in the middle of the floor and notices one of his knuckles is bleeding. He sucks on the injury and lets the coppery taste of iron sit on his tongue. He thinks about how much blood the past has taken from him, from Michael, from Tripp. That tool shed built by an evil man and maintained by another evil man. Both men a part of him. Connected through the very same blood he spent so many years shedding at his father’s hands. The overwhelming shame of his legacy still clasps at his heart, threatening to never let go no matter how many tool sheds he destroys. Tears crawl down his face, burning his skin along the way.

He reaches inside his shirt and grips Tripp’s dog tags that are quickly becoming the lifeline he never knew he needed. Not every part of himself is inherently evil. God, how much he wants to have faith in that belief. He lays back, staring at the ceiling trying desperately to believe Tripp is just as much - if not more so - a part of him than Harlan, than Jesse. Alex knows he’s done evil things – in deserts halfway across the world. To people – men, women, children – that he’d never even met. How many times he’s lain awake staring at similar blank ceilings reliving those memories and trying to convince himself what he did was for survival, for love of country. But ultimately being left with the hollow truth that none of the people he’s killed had to die in order for him to live. A truth locked deep inside his heart, but not so deep that he can ever forget. No. He’ll have to live with that truth for the rest of his life.

His thoughts wonder back to Michael, replaying the way he’d swung that axe so gleefully. Alex could almost see the weight falling off his shoulders. Closing his eyes, he tries to write that memory onto his heart. That’s how he wants to remember tonight. As a healing for Michael – the boy, the man – he’s loved for the past 11 years. And it doesn’t matter if Michael never loves him again because he’ll have this memory to keep him warm now. Maybe it will never replace the horror of what Jesse did all those years ago. But it’s enough for now. Like a cozy blanket he’ll pull out when those terrible images reappear. He’ll wrap himself tight in this memory of a sweaty, smiling Michael Guerin wildly swinging an axe and destroying the thing that has haunted his hand, his memories, his heart for over a decade.

Several long minutes pass as Alex lays there running his fingers over Tripp’s engraved name again and again. He wants to call Michael. Ask him to come back. To lie there with him for the rest of the night. Maybe the rest of forever. But he can’t because Michael is no longer his. The ache in his heart pulls more tears from his eyes as he curls up on his side. He knows he needs to go home. Take off the prosthetic. Do his PT. That he’ll regret this in the morning when the muscle spasms come for him. But there’s a small voice inside his head whispering that maybe he deserves that pain. After all, he, too, is complicit in so many of the ways Michael Guerin has hurt over the years.

A soft knock on the door jars him from his emotional spiral. He turns to find Greg looking down at him clearly concerned. He sits up, dropping the dog tags back down his shirt to rest against his heart. Greg reaches out a hand to help him up. Alex gladly accepts but can’t quite meet his brother’s eye. ‘You alright?’ Alex sighs and nods. He can tell Greg doesn’t believe him and well, who would?

‘Guerin go home? You guys did some real damage back there.’

Alex doesn’t say anything, just shifts all of his weight to his left leg and grimaces at the pain in his right hip. Greg grabs his elbow to help him balance. ‘Come sit down and talk to me, Alex.’

But Alex doesn’t want to talk. He wants to go home, crawl into bed, and spend the rest of the night chasing nightmares. Or maybe he’ll finally take one of his sleeping pills and erase the world for a little while. At least he has options.

Greg seems to understand. ‘Well, at least let me drive you home. No need to stress your leg any further.’

Alex finds the energy to speak and shakes his head. ‘It’s okay. I drive with my left leg, anyway. Plus, both my crutches are in the car. I’ll be fine. Just been a long day.’ Week. Year. Life. He swallows and tries to muster up something he hopes resembles a smile. Greg’s face lets him know he’s failed. ‘Listen, I’ll come back tomorrow. Help you eat all those disgusting casseroles. I’ll explain everything. I promise.’

Greg helps him out to his car. Once he’s inside with the door blissfully closed to anymore questions, Alex deflates, sagging back against the leather seat, and starts to cry again. He knows that there’s something incredibly broken deep down in the dark place he tries not to think about. The stress of the past week is finally catching up with him and he knows he needs help but can’t figure out how to ask for it. Instead, he starts the car and heads home, tears freefalling and chest heaving. He’s scared to look at the passenger seat, scared he’ll see his father sitting there. Smug and gloating that somehow even in death he’s still winning.

Alex focuses as best he can on the road directly in front of him and manages to make it home safely. When he turns into his driveway, he’s shocked to find Michael’s truck parked in his regular spot – tailgate down and waiting for him like so many nights ago. Alex’s chest clenches at the memory of Michael’s ‘I like Maria, okay’. He can feel panic rising and worries that he’s now in danger of a full-blown panic attack if this night doesn’t end quickly.

He shuts the SUV off but doesn’t move. Tension begins to coil in his chest, wrapping his lungs in a vice grip that he’s having a hard time breathing around. Michael must notice that something’s wrong because he hurriedly moves to open his door and unbuckle his seat belt. Alex barely registers any of this as he tries to focus on his breathing. He can distantly hear Michael calling his name, feel his hand wrap around his neck. And then there’s Michael’s hand on his chest and his hand on Michael’s chest. Alex can feel Michael’s heart beating solidly beneath his palm. Can feel the strong in and out motion of his breathing. He clings to that and tries to match him, breath for breath. It takes a moment, but eventually, the pressure in his head eases, sounds return to normal, and the weight on his chest finally subsides. He sucks in as much oxygen as he can in long, deep breaths.

Michael takes a step back giving him some space, not knowing what to do next. Alex hates the lines of worry written across his face. Hates that he’s the one who has put them there. But he’s also never needed someone as much as he needs Michael in this moment. He moves to get out of the car, but his right leg is no longer obeying him, and he can’t hide the groan that escapes him as he shifts towards the door. But Michael’s hands are there to catch him and ease him off the seat, taking the brunt of Alex’s weight onto his own shoulders.

‘My crutches are in the back.’ Michael helps Alex lean against the driver’s side door and then turns to grab the crutches from their perch on the backseat. He hands them to Alex and watches as he puts his arms through the grips, adjusts his stance until he’s as comfortable as he’s going to get. Alex closes the door behind him and notices that Michael has his keys. He presses the lock button on the key fob and follows Alex up to his front door in silence. Alex suspects Michael’s using his telekinesis to ease the walk. They turn to face each other, neither knowing what to say. All that comes to Alex is a simple thank you. He knows it’s not enough.

Michael thumbs away the tears that are somehow still falling down Alex’s cheeks and unlocks his front door. The alarm starts to beep when the door opens, and Alex gives Michael the code to disarm the system. He makes his way into his bedroom and collapses on his bed. Michael takes the crutches from him and places them next to his nightstand. He kneels at his feet and begins taking off Alex’s shoes. He glances up at Alex, asking for permission to remove the prosthetic next. Alex gives a small nod and watches how gently Michael tends to him, all soft tugs and gentle pulls. He’s too tired to care how intimate a situation this is between the two of them. Too tired to think about Maria or not being good enough. He just unbuttons his jeans and lets Michael pull them off him as he tosses his shirt to the floor.

He watches as Michael grabs the lotion from his bedside and begins to massage the tight muscles in his right thigh, from his knee to his hip. Alex relaxes back onto his pillow, closing his eyes and thinking that maybe the nightmares won’t find him after all. His thoughts drift as Michael’s fingers continue to work their magic, shifting to his left leg knowing how much extra work it’s put in today as well.

What feels like a just a moment later, Alex jerks awake suddenly not realizing he’d fallen asleep. Michael is curled up next to him, snoring softly. He considers waking him and telling him to go home or to Maria or wherever he belongs now. But he can’t bring himself to give up the alien warmth and the way his body fits so perfectly next to his own. It’s selfish and he knows it. But he doesn’t care. Alex settles back against Michael and pulls his arms tightly around him. Michael’s left hand comes to rest on his chest and Alex realizes that the bandana is gone. And for the first time, Alex thinks he feels something inside him start to heal.

#malex #malex fic #alex manes #the angst is so strong with this one

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