#Nine TV Ratings in AU Saturday

[smileysuh]

nerd

🌙 starring. Jeon Wonwoo x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. Look up at me for a moment, gorgeous,” Wonwoo commands, and you do as you’re told. He meets your gaze, his skin flushed from your mouth suctioning on his cock. “Just need to get your eyes right for your character,” he explains, threading his fingers through your hair and aiding you up and down on his throbbing length. “Such pretty eyes. You look so good staring up at me with your mouth stuffed full, baby.”

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, use of dragon knotted dildo toy, use of vibrator, multiple reader orgasms, blow job, dirty talk, slight power play/humiliation, clit sucking, overstimulation, pussy stretching, reader rides the toy then Wonwoo uses the toy to make her cum again, talking reader through it, mutual masturbation, Wonwoo strokes himself off to the reader using her toys, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby. (Wonwoo’s) puppy

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 3.9k

🍭 aus. Established relationship au, gamer!Wonwoo, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I know this is on the shorter side, it’s pwp, but I’ve been reading shorter things lately, and I’ve been insanely busy, so I figured a short and sweet fic couldn’t hurt after last month's near 20k meanie fic :)

You wake up to an empty bed, your hand stretching uselessly toward your boyfriend’s side of the mattress, to no avail. With a slight groan and a huff of sleepy annoyance, you wrap yourself tighter in your white duvet, searching for the energy to sit up.

A clicking sound has your brows furrowing, and you wrap your body tight in the blanket as you open your eyes to look around.

Wonwoo’s sitting at his gaming station in the corner of the room, large earphones snug around his head. For a guy who’s a bit of a night owl, you’re shocked he’s awake and playing video games right now, but as you stare at the screen, you realize what’s going on.

With the new Fallout TV show, Wonwoo’s been wanting to do another playthrough of Fallout 4. He’s been talking about it on Twitch streams for the better part of a week. Leave it to your boyfriend to get the energy to restart a video game at nine am on a Saturday morning.

As much as you love Wonwoo and what he does for work - being a streamer is his dream afterall - you kind of wish he was still in bed with you. He’d been up late gaming last night, and was too tired afterward to take care of your growing needs. You’re at the part of your cycle where you’ve been very horny lately, and you’d been crossing your fingers for morning sex, but by the way Wonwoo is locked in on his screen, you can guess that might not be in the cards.

You watch him a few moments longer, realizing that he’s not actively streaming. It looks like he’s just doing general character creation, but with a boyfriend as meticulous as Wonwoo, you know that could take a while.

Quietly slipping from bed, you wrap yourself in a kimono style robe that Wonwoo had got for you on a recent trip to Japan. You head to the bathroom, intent on completing your morning skin care routine, taking your time and brushing your teeth. 

When you head back to your shared room with Wonwoo fifteen minutes later, your boyfriend looks like he hasn’t even moved a muscle aside from his twitching thumbs on the controller.

Approaching Wonwoo, you lean over the back of his chair, loosely guiding your fingers across his shoulders and down to his bare chest. 

Wonwoo immediately takes his headphones off, turning to press a kiss to your cheek while you linger behind him.

“Good morning,” you breathe.

“Morning, baby,” he says, voice deep and crackly with exhaustion.

“Watcha doing?”

“Just making my Fallout character,” he responds smoothly, turning to look back at the screen. “I’m glad you’re awake actually.”

“Yeah?” you grin. “And why is that?”

“I’m almost done, and when I move onto my wife character, I want to model her after you. As good as my memory is, it’s probably better to have you here with me when I do it.”

God, he’s such a nerd.

You love him, your whole heart warming in your chest at the notion of him creating a wife character based off of you.

“Are you sure you want to put the time into that?” you ask. “We both know what happens to the wife within the first fifteen minutes of the game.”

Wonwoo only shrugs. “I woke up to your pretty face and I guess I was inspired.”

“Hey, puppy?” The pet name immediately draws his attention, and he turns to look at you, a smirk growing on his lips.

“Yes, baby?”

“Can you take a break for a bit?”

Wonwoo’s eyes scan you up and down, and then he sets his controller to the side, reaching for you instead. You allow him to lace his fingers with yours, drawing you in front of him. He positions you between his spread thighs, using his free digits to tug on the belt of your kimono robe. You don’t even need to verbalize what you need, Wonwoo knows you too well, and within seconds, your robe is opening to expose your naked body.

“I guess I didn’t really have the energy to take care of you last night,” Wonwoo admits, leaning forward to press his lips to the spot above your navel.

You let go of his hand in favour of threading your fingers through his curls, his hair teasing your sensitive skin as he presses kisses up toward your rib cage. He cups the back of your thighs, tugging you closer.

Wonwoo reaches your breasts, his tongue darting out to lick at the underside of your boob, eyes gazing up at you.

“How about a compromise?” he suggests, breath hot on your sensitive skin.

“A compromise?” Your words come out shaky as he takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking on it gently.

He hums against the sensitive bud, one hand lifting to massage your ass. Then, he pulls away from your breast, looking up at you with a grin. “I just wanna finish your character first.”

You let out a deep sigh, shaking your head at Wonwoo. You step away from him, but he grabs at your hand. “Kiss,” he instructs, and you begrudgingly lean down to press a chaste peck to his lips. His fingers thread through your hair, cupping the back of your skull to keep your mouth on his for a few moments longer, then he releases you. 

“Should only take five or ten minutes,” he tells you. “And I need you here to model.” 

“One second,” you groan, heading to your closet.

If he doesn’t want to fuck you right away, if he wants to prioritize his video game, that’s just fine. You can start without him.

You find a good sized toy, one of the dragon style ones that Wonwoo had been obsessed with a few months ago. He loves watching the coulourful, ribbed cock with a wide ‘knot’ base work you open for him, and fuck it, today feels like a good day for you to enjoy it too.

You also grab a trusty black vibrator and a bottle of lube for good measure before going back to your boyfriend.

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything as you sink to the ground, he simply pushes his chair back, giving you some space to settle under the table his computer is on. You can feel his gaze on you when you open the bottle of lube, squirting some onto the toy before suctioning it to the floor.

“Five or ten minutes, right?” you ask, easing over the head of the toy and facing your boyfriend.

“Uh huh,” he mumbles, looking down to watch the way you sink the head of the toy into your pussy. “Think you can get all the way down to the knot with that time frame?”

“Probably,” you groan, closing your eyes to enjoy the way the tip feels inside of you. “But… puppy, you haven’t fucked me in so long, I’m pretty tight.”

“You’ll work yourself open,” Wonwoo assures you, his attention turning back to his screen, although you can see his cock beginning to strain against the grey fabric of his sweatpants.

The tip of the toy is tapered compared to the base, with all sorts of ridges that stimulate your inner walls as you test yourself up and down. The lube makes it easy to slide an inch or two inside your aching core, and as much as you’d like to try to sink down fully, you want to go slowly with this, seeing as you have five to ten minutes.

You grab your vibrator, turning it up to a medium setting and placing it on your clit. 

Your head is bowed, thighs already quivering as the sensation of the vibrator surges through you. A moan slips past your lips, your pace quickening on the toy, another inch sinking into you with your motions.

“That’s my good baby,” Wonwoo coos, reaching down to cup your cheek.

When you look up at him, you find his gaze still fixed to his computer screen, and it makes you angry.

You bite your lower lip, bouncing faster, harder- pressing the vibrator firmly to your clit in hopes that the pleasurable sensations will distract you from your growing annoyance.

“Wonwoo-” you groan.

“Puppy,” he corrects you.

“Please-”

“Please what?” your boyfriend counters.

“Fuck me?”

Wonwoo looks down at you finally, that shit eating smirk returning to his lips. “One cock inside of you isn’t enough right now, baby?”

“No, want your cock,” you insist.

“Okay, just remember, you asked for it, and I told you five or ten minutes.” Wonwoo sighs, lifting his hips and pulling his pants down, his hard length slapping up against his lower abdomen.

You’d meant you wanted his cock in your pussy, but you suppose you hadn’t specified what you wanted him to fuck-

Sucking Wonwoo off while he creates a video game character hadn’t been on todays bingo card, but you know how your boyfriend gets when he’s gaming, and you fear this might be the only way to have a piece of him while he’s focused.

Licking your lips, you pull him closer, the wheels of his chair dragging against the ground. With the hand not on the vibrator, you grab the base of his cock, adjusting so you can wrap your mouth around the tip.

Wonwoo releases a pleased groan, and you can feel your pussy clench around the toy.

Your eyes close, your focus going to the sensations ringing through your body. You take more of the dragon cock, slowly moving up and down on it in tandem with your mouth on Wonwoo. The vibrations on your clit are still making your legs shake, and as you get lost in the feeling of blowing your lover, you think you might cum pretty quick this way.

“That’s it, baby,” Wonwoo coos. “My good girl, being so patient.”

Fuck him for praising your patience. He knows lines like that make you eager to please him in this way, eager for more whispered words of affirmation even while he’s neglecting your aching pussy, fully content with you using a toy while he prioritizes his game-

“Look up at me for a moment, gorgeous,” he commands, and you do as you’re told. He meets your gaze, his skin flushed from your mouth suctioning on his cock. “Just need to get your eyes right for your character,” he explains, threading his fingers through your hair and aiding you up and down on his throbbing length. “Such pretty eyes. You look so good staring up at me with your mouth stuffed full, baby.”

Fuck. Your toes curl at his words.

If his skin wasn’t betraying the effect you’re having on him, you’d never be able to tell by the steady baritone of his morning voice. He’s not shuddering, not breathing deeply- it makes you want to suck on him even harder. You want to earn Wonwoo’s sounds of pleasure- sounds that can be so rare from a man who uses his voice for a living.

“Hows that cock feel inside of you?” he asks, gaze shifting up to his screen again. “Getting you nice and stretched for me, huh?”

You groan around his length, sucking roughly on his sensitive tip.

Wonwoo takes a sharp breath, and your body tingles with your success of earning a strangled sound from him.

“I’m almost done,” he assures you. “But I want to watch you take the knot first, be a good girl and sink down on the toy for me.”

You pull off of his cock with a popping sound, wiping a hand across your saliva wet lips. “What does it matter to you? You can’t even see me taking this.”

“True, but I know the sounds you make when you stuff yourself full with that toy. Wanna hear your pretty sounds baby.”

How is he so good at dirty talk while still staring at his computer screen?

“Nerd,” you whisper under your breath.

“Hmm?” He looks down at you with a grin, and you know he heard what you said.

“Nothing.”

“You’re gonna get it in two minutes,” he warns.

“Lucky me,” you say sarcastically, riding the toy faster, pushing yourself closer and closer to the wide base.

Wonwoo’s left hand finds his cock, and he begins to stroke himself while you focus on your own pleasure, rubbing the vibrator back and forth along your aching clit.

A whimper escapes you when you sink all the way down to the knot of the toy, hovering over the widest section.

“That’s the sound,” Wonwoo muses. “Come on, sink down on it.”

“I’m too tight,” you tell him, moving up and down, unable to go any further onto the knotted base.

“When you take it, I’ll take you,” Wonwoo promises, stroking his cock faster.

Looking up at him, you find your boyfriend staring at you now. He’s set the controller aside, and you have his full attention.

“Can’t you just fuck me right now?” you plead, motions stopping.

“I’m just a gamer nerd, remember, baby? Isn’t it my job to watch an angel like you make herself cum on some stupid toy before I get a taste?”

Fuck. 

He makes it sound like he’s the victim here, although clearly you’re the one aching for him.

“Puppy,” you groan, looking down and focusing on taking the knot. “I’m not wet enough-”

“Then cum. Use your vibe and make yourself cum, should make it easier.”

“But I want you,” you whine.

He laughs. “Brat.”

“Nerd,” you fire back. 

Wonwoo’s grin only widens. “Be a good girl, make yourself cum, take the dragon knot-”

“Anything else?” you huff, rubbing the vibrator hard on your clit.

“Yeah, one more thing.” Wonwoo sits back smugly in his chair, spreading his thighs even wider. “Suck my balls.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. Sucking his dick is one thing, but sucking his balls? Generally with past boyfriends, you’ve stuck to their cocks- but Wonwoo has a very specific way of challenging you to do things like this. 

He knows you can’t refuse. He carries all the cards. If you want his dick inside of you, you’re going to have to do this for him. It’s not like you hate sucking balls, it’s not like you’ve ever voiced it to him that this is a boundary for you, it’s just… regularly, you’d rather… well, you’d rather not. 

But you suppose this is what you get for calling him a nerd. 

With a sigh, you lean forward, licking at the space just below the fingers wrapped around the base of his cock.

“Don’t be shy,” he tells you. 

You decide to focus mainly on your own pleasure while you take one of his balls into your mouth. He’s doing this to degrade you, to get back at you for being impatient- but at the same time, from the contented groan that leaves his lips, you know Wonwoo’s sensitive in this area. 

His sounds do make things easier for you, and you close your eyes, rubbing your clit hard with the vibrator.

“That’s it,” he coos. “I love it when you’re a good girl for me.”

You whimper at his words, your core throbbing desperately.

“Better be fast and cum though, I’m not sure I can handle much of this, you’re just so good with your mouth.”

And now he’s threatening to not even fuck you? He’ll stroke himself to the finish line if you don’t cum first?

This man will be the death of you.

“Come on, baby, I know you want to cum,” he encourages you. “Be a good girl and just do it, cum from that vibrator and the dragon cock inside your tight fucking pussy.”

His words are the last straw and you pull off his balls to let out a deep groan. You bury your face against his thigh, pussy fluttering as your orgasm slams into you. Your walls contract around what you can take of the toy, and you feel a rush of wetness coat the silicon, helping you bob up and down even faster-

“That’s it,” Wonwoo breathes, rubbing his cock even faster. “Just a little more and I’ll fuck you.”

You whimper like a whore in heat, biting gently against Wonwoo’s thigh as you push yourself to sink further onto the toy, your inner walls screaming at you due to the stretch.

“Good girl,” your boyfriend praises you, petting you with a warm hand that makes your entire body ache.

You turn the vibrator off, nearly overstimulated. Tossing it to the side you focus on the dildo, feeling your pussy stretch to accommodate part of the knot.

“Almost there,” Wonwoo says, and by the way he’s stroking his cock, you’re not sure if he’s talking about you or himself.

“Wonwoo, please,” you beg. “I can’t-”

“You’re the one who wanted to be filled today, just take a little more and I’ll fill you,” he says, his motions faltering on his length. 

You grab at his thighs, squeezing and using him for leverage to rock up and down on the toy. Your eyes clench shut as you bob up and down, your wetness coating the silicon until-

You let out a gasp as you sink fully onto the toy, pausing while your thighs quiver. Another mini orgasm rushes through you at the feeling of being stretched this way, the knot stuck in your sensitive hole-

“That’s it,” Wonwoo says, moving into action immediately. He pushes away from you, standing up. Hands that are surprisingly gentle reach down and pull you to your feet, making you cry out from the way the toy is still lodged inside of you. “Fuck, you are tight,” he notes from the way the dragon cock didn’t immediately shoot out of you from the change in position. 

“Puppy-” you whimper, already delirious. 

Wonwoo helps you onto the bed, sinking to his knees at the foot of the mattress. He spreads your thighs, and you look down to see his pupils blow with lust while he stares at the large toy still embedded in your pussy.

He licks his lips. “Fuck, I always love it when you take this fucking knot.”

You whisper his name, moaning loudly when he grabs the base of the toy and gently thrusts it in and out of you. 

Then, he shifts, and his tongue finds your clit. “One more?” he practically pleads. “Then another when I’m inside of you?”

It’s been days since he’s made you cum, and it feels like today, he’s going to make up for that. You can bet that by tonight, you’ll have lost track of how many times you’ve orgasmed, and you honestly don’t mind.

“Please,” you whisper, reaching down to thread your fingers in his sleep tossled curls.

Wonwoo wraps his lips around your clit, gently rocking the toy inside of you. He doesn’t pull it all the way out, just shifts the knot along your sensitive walls, stretched to the limit and already throbbing.

“Fuck, that’s so good, puppy,” you groan, throwing your head back, eyes clenching shut. You begin to rock your hips, feeling impossibly full- his mouth suctions lewdly around your sensitive bud and your entire body quakes, thighs shaking on either side of his head. “Shit-”

Wonwoo grins against your pussy, an invitation for you to cum on the toy-

Fuck, you need him so badly, and your need spurs your body on, your muscles clenching as you teeter on the edge of an orgasm.

His teeth graze your clit and that’s all you need to topple over the edge, your legs attempting to close around Wonwoo while your pussy throbs desperately around the toy. The sounds escaping you now are practically inhumane, your entire body overtaken by white hot pleasure that courses through you like an electric wave.

Wonwoo pulls the toy from your core and you jolt from the loss, eyes opening to stare down at your boyfriend-

He releases your clit from your mouth, standing quickly. “Fuck, you look so good cumming on that stupid toy,” Wonwoo groans, grabbing the base of his cock and lining his tip up with your still aching pussy. “Gonna fill you now, like I promised.”

He sheaths himself inside of you and you let out a loud moan of releif. “Puppy,” you whimper, making grabby hands at him.

Wonwoo wastes no time, shifting his knees onto the bed, getting on top of you so he can press his lips to yours. Your tongues begin to clash immediately, and the kiss feels almost feverish as you tangle your fingers in his curls.

He’s such a good kisser, but you can hardly focus on his lips with the way his hips are already moving, thrusting so the tip of his cock hits your cervix with each motion-

“Fuck, fuck-” you whimper, feeling tears in your eyes from the overstimulation.

Wonwoo’s mouth finds your throat, his mouth narrowing in on your sweet spot, sucking roughly.

“Puppy-” you cry, tangling your legs tighter around his hips.

“I know, I’m close too,” he pants. “Watching you take that fucking knot just does something to me-”

Your core throbs at his words- you’d guessed he’d been close while jacking off, but hearing him say it this directly makes you even hornier. Your pussy is a sloppy mess, so wet that each thrust has it practically squelching.

 “Please, puppy, please-” you pant, nuzzling against his cheek and licking at his sensitive ear. “Want your cum, want it so bad.”

“Fuck,” Wonwoo groans. “Rub your clit, need you squeezing me when I cum.” 

You shove a hand between your bodies, nearly crying from the sensitivity of your overworked bud- but you’re not about to give up now. You’re not a weakling, and if Wonwoo wants one more orgasm out of you, you’ll give him one.

“Feels so good,” you gasp, rubbing even harder, your core clenching tight around Wonwoo’s cock while he pants loudly in your ear.

“Need you to cum,” he grits out, fingers digging into your hips. “Come on, baby, cum for me.”

You shut your eyes tight, focusing on all the pleasure surging through you, and when Wonwoo bites gently into your throat, your high hits you straight on.

You gasp loudly, back arching off of the bed, pushing your tits toward Wonwoo’s chest. He releases his own sound of pleasure, and you can feel his cock throbbing while your walls clench around him, painting your insides as you both cum hard. 

You listen to his moans, loving the way he grabs you tightly as he cums, his thrusts faltering, motions shallow, as if he wants to be as deep as possible when he fills you up.

Your lips find his throat, pressing kisses there that make him shiver as you ride out your orgasms, and soon, your muscles are relaxing, the tightness making way for a slacked, exhausted feeling that overwhelms you.

Wonwoo stills on top of you, panting loudly by your ear.

“I think…” he swallows thickly. “I think we should go back to sleep now.”

You laugh, petting his curls. “What about your precious video game?”

“Fuck the video game,” he counters. “Right now, I’m going to clean you up, go back to sleep with you curled on my chest, then we can wake up in a few hours, do it again, get takeout-”

“You have the whole day planned out, don’t you, nerd?”

Wonwoo only laughs. “Don’t test me, baby.”

“Never.”

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! As much as I love longer fics, I'm such an avid reader of pwp for the anime's I watch, so I wanted to do something shorter and easier for those who like a bite sized fic instead of a full course meal :)

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. “That’s it,” Wonwoo coos. He simply can’t help his dominant tendencies. How is it that you’re supposed to be the one in control, but it still feels like he’s got you wrapped around his finger... And his cock.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, handcuff bondage, reader tries to dom Wonwoo, edging, oral, blow job, pussy eating, 69, choking, dirty talk, pet names, reader is slightly in control, Wonwoo breaks the handcuffs, slight crying/dacryphilia, power dynamic, power switch, teasing, creampie, slight fallout roleplay, masturbation, deep throating, etc…   I petnames. (hers) baby (his) puppy, sir 

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3k I teaser wc. 130

🌙 starring. Wonwoo x afab!Reader

bonus

“Hey, puppy?” you call, standing in the doorway of your bedroom, watching your boyfriend close up his stream for the night.

“Yes, baby?”

The nerd doesn’t even look up from what he’s doing, but you suppose that’s no new behaviour. With a huff, you disconnect from the door frame, sauntering over to Wonwoo, your skin tight outfit squeezing you with each step.

Leaning over his back, you allow your hands to dance across his chest, Wonwoo looks down, and that’s when you get his attention.

His body goes rigid, and he slowly turns to look at you, taking in the full body Fallout Vault dweller costume you’re wearing.

“Baby…” Wonwoo lets out a chuckle, “what are you doing?”

“Playing into your addiction,” you say smoothly. “What, you don’t like it?”

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[demigodsanswer]

61 and 90 for any pairing

Love confession + unexpected virgin 

Y’all already know that when I see “any pairing” it means “Chris and Clarisse.” Someone’s gotta produce the content. This actually turned out way longer than I anticipated. I would rate this between a T and an M. There’s no smut, but there are mature themes and descriptions. 

All mortal AU, they’re about 26/27

Read on AO3

~*~*~*~*~

Movies, take out, and beer had become a Saturday night tradition for the two of them since they’d finally earned enough seniority at the gym to not teach Sunday classes. It was easier for Clarisse - people din’t usually want to kick box or do cross fit on Sundays. But there were a lot of people who looked forward to Sunday morning yoga, and Chris, as the only male yoga instructor at the gym, brought in a lot of middle-aged moms. Him getting off that shift was a miracle spectacular enough to warrant a year’s worth of cheat days. 

“Does that one woman still think we’re dating?” Clarisse asked, sitting back down on the couch with two fresh beers. Chris took his from her and smiled. 

“Well, she hasn’t hit on me since.” Earlier that year, Chris had come up to her, a bit frantic, before his class started. 

“I need a favor,” Clarisse worried he was going to ask her to cover his class. Almost three years of yoga twice a week had not made her qualified to lead a class, nor was she even particularly fond of yoga. 

“What’s up?” 

“This woman’s been hitting on me after every class. She’s like, forty. I need you to pretend to be my … something. Doesn’t matter. Girlfriend, wife, mother of my child, just something.” 

Clarisse just rolled her eyes and smiled, “No problem … honey? Sweetie? Baby? Do you have a preference?” 

Chris just let out a sigh of relief. “Whatever gets her to stop talking to me,” 

He smiled at the memory. Clarisse had gone with “girlfriend” and “babe,” coming up to him and the end of class and putting an arm around his waist. Even a year later, the memory gave him butterflies. Chris wasn’t oblivious, he knew that he had liked her since pretty much the day they’d met, nearly three years ago. He just hadn’t found the exact right moment to ask her out. 

But now he was on the clock. 

He wasn’t the only guy who worked at the gym who admired a woman who could kick their ass and would do so upon request. 

As far as Chris knew, she hadn’t been on a date in well over a year, but she had dated guys from the gym in the past - nothing that ever lasted very long, but it had happened. So he knew she liked guys and would go on a date, which was in his favor, as a guy who wanted to take her out on a date. 

He was planning on waiting for the right moment, until the worst possible thing happened. Butch, the other main kick boxing coach, the only person in the gym who Clarisse was maybe as close to as she was with Chris, the only other person Chris had ever seen make Clarisse laugh (and he had prided himself for a long time on being about to get her to laugh), said the nine words that could have put Chris in his grave: 

“Do you think Clarisse would go out with me?” Butch asked one day in the locker room. 

Chris panicked. “No!” He yelled. 

Butch’s face fell, “Well, thank you for your honesty.” 

“No, no, wait, no, that’s not what I meant. I meant …” Chris took a deep breath, “I meant yes, she probably would go out with you, and because the answer is yes, I’m going to have to beg you not to ask her out.” 

Butch looked confused, “Uh, why?” 

“Because I want to ask her out. I’ve been meaning to for like … a year.” 

“You guys are together, like, all of the time. Why haven’t you asked yet.” 

Chris shrugged, “I’m a bit of a coward.” 

Butch paused for a second before he said, “Alright, I won’t ask her out unless she turns you down.”

“Wait, really?” Chris said. 

“Yeah, I mean, you’re my friend so it’d be pretty shit to ask out a girl you like when I know you like her. Plus the panicked look in your eye probably means you’ve got more than just a crush on her.”

Chris could cry. “You’re the best, man.” 

And then three weeks passed. “Have you asked her out yet?” Butch asked. 

“No, I haven’t,” Chris admitted. 

“Dude …” 

“I know, I’m sorry. Alright, how about, if I don’t ask her out by the end of the week, you can ask her out without any bro code guilt or whatever,” 

Butch shrugged, “If having a deadline will help you get your ass in gear, then sure.” 

And now it was Saturday. His week was almost up. He could do this. He could do this. 

Could he do this without throwing up? Yet to be seen. 

“So … do anything fun recently?” He asked. 

“Do anything fun?” She was laughing at him. Oh god, this was a disaster. 

“Yeah … like did you go to see any movies? Go on any dates?” Smooth Rodriguez, smooth. 

“Dude, we talk to each other like, every day, I think you’d know if I had gone on any dates.” 

“Well, I don’t know. I just sometimes hear rumors …” 

“Hear rumors about me going on dates?” Now she seemed like she as getting angry. Time to back track. 

“No, not about you going on dates, just about guys wanting to ask you out.” Alright brain, now is not the time to throw your very good and very kind friend Butch under the bus, he though. 

“Oh please, there aren’t any guys at the gym who like me,” She leaned back and took another sip of her beer. Chris looked at her, confused. Even besides him and Butch, there had been a number of guys and girls over the years who had wanted to date her.

“That’s not true,” he told her. 

“Oh yeah? Who is it then?” She asked sitting up. 

Me, he thought, I do, come on mouth just say ‘me,’ m-e, it’s easy you can do it. “Do you remember Jake Mason?” he asked. Nope, you blew it, he thought. 

“Yeah?”

“He wanted to ask you out.” 

“Then why didn’t he?” 

Because I begged him not to, Chris thought. “He was going to, but then he got that coaching job and moved away.” 

Clarisse shrugged like she still didn’t really believe him. “Okay, well one guy over a year and half ago is not the same as a bunch of guys wanting to ask me out.” 

“Well, I don’t want to blow anyones cover, so you’re just going to have to trust me,” Chris looked away from her, facing the TV and trying to focus on taking sips of his drink. He was pretty sure that if she looked at his face right now she’d be able to see right through him. 

After a second Clarisse asked, “Is this a joke?” She didn’t sound angry, she sounded … sad. Vulnerable, Chris realized, she sounded vulnerable. After three years of knowing her, he couldn’t think of a single moment he’d heard her sound like that. He turned around; he could tell she was trying to look blank faced, but she looked hurt. 

“No, Clarisse, it’s not –” 

“Because it’s not funny.” 

“Clarisse, I would never –” 

“Oh but you expect me to believer there are just multiple guys at the gym who want to go out with me, but none of them have asked?” 

“Yes, because that’s the truth!” 

“Then name a single one,” 

You, say you, you idiot, his brain screamed at him. “Butch!” Nope, you blew it. 

Clarisse leaned back, “Butch?” 

“Yeah. He told me last month he wanted to ask you out.” 

Clarrise looked down at her hands, then back to him. “Then why hasn’t he?” 

“What?” 

“Why hasn’t he asked me out?” She moved in close to him, like she did when she was angry. He was so close he could kiss her without having to move too far forward. But, of course, he didn’t take the opportunity. 

“Because!” 

“Because why?” 

“Because I asked him not to!” 

Now she looked angry and confused, “Why? Why would you do that?” 

“Because I -” he paused for a second and stopped yelling, “think you’re beautiful.” She didn’t look angry anymore, but she still looked confused. “And strong, and smart, and I want to kiss you so bad. Not just right now, but every moment that I’ve been with you or thinking about you for the last three years I’ve wished that I was kissing you. And I didn’t tell you or ask you out because I’m a wimp, and afraid of getting rejected, and afraid of ruining our friendship,” he turned back to the TV, “and I’m sorry I told Butch not to ask you out. That was wrong, but the idea of seeing you with him made me so goddamn sick to my stomach I didn’t know what else to do. So, I’m sorry.” He hid his face and his hands, hoping that she would just kind of leave him to his shame and misery. 

“I hate yoga,” she said after a minute. 

Chris looked up from his hands, but kept looking forward. “Wow, what a weird way to kick me when I’m down.” 

“No, no,” she moved closer to him and put a hand on his shoulder, “I hate yoga, and I’ve gone to your class twice a week for two years.” 

Chris finally turned back to look at her. Their faces were close again. 

“I don’t want to go out with Butch,” she said. 

“Oh.” She didn’t look vulnerable anymore, Chris realized. 

“Kiss me,” she said. 

That was all Chris needed. He closed the space between them, placing one hand on her thigh, and another on the back of her head, pulling her in close. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling them closer, before deciding to readjust so that she was straddling his lap. Chris smiled at the closeness, before opening his mouth slightly to bite her lower lip. She let out a slight gasp and moved her hands to the sides of his face as she kept kissing him. 

Chris noticed her hands were trembling. he moved his hands off the backs of her thighs and pulled away, holding her hands in his. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” she said, brushing it off, “it’s just … been a while.” 

Chris smiled and kissed her again, “Well that’s a shame.” He moved his lips down to her neck, “You’re an excellent kisser,” he said. 

They continued like that for a few minutes, their hands eventually finding their ways under each others shirts. Chris broke the kiss and pulled his off. Sure, she had seen him without a shirt in the gym before, but this felt entirely different. 

Clarisse decided to follow his lead, taking her shirt off more slowly than he did. He had seen her in just a sports bra plenty of times, but this was the first time he’d seen her in just a regular bra. “Damn,” he muttered, looking her over. Her face flushed and Chris smiled, before leaning forward to kiss the tops of her breasts. 

“Oh,” she gasped, grinding down on him slightly. He was definitely noticeably hard, there was no missing that. 

“Do you wanna …?” He asked. 

She pulled away just slightly to answer, “Huh?” 

“Do you wanna …” He gestured vaguely to his bedroom, but she still didn’t respond, “have sex?” he finished the question without a lot of grace, but hoped for the best. 

“Oh,” was all she said. 

“We don’t have to,” he added quickly. 

“I know, I just … yes.” She said. “Yes, I want to.” 

Chris kissed her again, before they both stood up to move to the bedroom. 

Once the door was shut, Chris pinned her against the door and started kissing her again. She kissed back and put her hands on his hips, but she was otherwise seemed completely still, until Chris noticed she was trembling again. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked. 

“Yeah, it’s just …” 

“I know you said it’s been a while, but if it makes you feel better, it’s been a while for me too,” he offered. 

“No, it’s not that it’s been a while. I mean, I guess, kind of it is but … You know what, never mind, don’t worry about it.” She grabbed his face and tried to keep kissing him, but he pulled away. 

“Reese, you can talk to me. I don’t want to do this if you’re worried or unsure.” 

“I’m not worried or unsure it’s just that…” Her face was bright red, “I’ve never done this before.” She finally said. Before Chris could say anything, she turned around and opened the door. “I’m sorry, it’s weird, I should go.” 

“No, wait, Clarisse,” He grabbed her wrist before she was too far out the door. “We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, but I don’t think it’s weird.” 

She turned back around. “Really?” 

“Yeah, it’s totally fine. But, we can wait, if you want, for a more romantic time.” He offered. 

She shook her head, “I haven’t been waiting for some perfect romance or anything, I just never felt like I had the right opportunity. There have been opportunities, they just never … felt right, I guess.” 

Chris smiled, “So you think I’m the right opportunity?“

She smiled and pushed past him back into the bedroom, “Oh, shut up.” 

He kept smiling as he followed her back in, closing the door again. “But this does really work out in my favor. No bar for you to judge me against,” 

Clarisse shrugged, “Or over a decade of built up expectations, whichever way you want to look at it.” He could tell she was only half teasing. 

“I’m gonna go with my way,” Chris decided, closing the space between them again. He walked Clarisse backwards without breaking their kiss until the backs of her legs bumped into the bed. “Are you sure?” He asked again. 

Clarisse just smiled and pulled them both into the bed. 

[sophis1234]

CBS #1 Saturday in the U.S. BBC One #1 in the UK. ABC #1 in AU.

CBS #1 Saturday in the U.S. BBC One #1 in the UK. ABC #1 in AU.

Mystery, Track & Field and Drama programming topped television viewing Saturday throughout the English Language World. The Daily Diary Of Screens #dailydiaryofscreens 🇺🇸🇬🇧🇦🇺💻📱📺🎬🌎🗺️🇮🇳. For Saturday, August 12, 2017. This is your North America, Central America, South America, India, UK and Australian Daily Television Ratings Platform. In the U.S., CBS #1 broadcast network as NBC’s ‘Dateline NBC‘…

[pizzas-will-rule-the-world]

How about a modern au where Jack has to babysit Les for the first time without any other Jacobs siblings present? With Jack being more nervous than he needs to b lmao

I LOVE THIS PROMPT V CUTE 

(this got uhh somewhat long oops sorry)

Ship: Javey, but only in the background

Word count: 3872 

Additional tags: Talk about school stress/pressure over grades. Like, one swear word

“Remind me again how you got roped into this?”

Jack’s sigh could have been heard from the other end of the country. “I don’t know,” he complained, making Race laugh on the phone. “I have no idea how to take care of kids. Hell, I am a kid. How am I gonna be able to babysit?”

As he walked down the street, dust from the sidewalk rose around his feet and settled on his sneakers. Even though he had been in this neighborhood before, he glanced around so he wouldn’t miss any sign. A knot in his stomach made him want to turn back and go home. His phone was pressed closely to his ear, as if he was worried about not hearing any advice Race might throw at him.

“Les is cool, it’ll be fine,” Race said . “He’s almost ten. You just need to keep him entertained.”

Jack sighed. He liked Les, he really did. Les was Davey’s little brother, after all, and Davey loved him more than anything else. And Jack liked Davey even more than he liked Les. That had been the reason why he’d agreed to do this from the start. The two oldest siblings in the Jacobs-family had managed to both have plans one night during the week their parents happened to be out of town. And despite them not having dated for too long, Davey had come to Jack for help. “Les loves you,” he had said, backing up his case with puppy-eyes. “And it’s only for a couple of hours. Please?”

In the end, Jack had agreed, because he he could never not do something when Davey asked him like that. It had been worth it if only to see the grateful look on his boyfriend’s face when he had agreed.

Now he was starting to feel he might have made a terrible mistake.

“What if I fuck it up and Davey will break up with me?”

His anxieties made his stomach flip as soon as he uttered the words. Race breathed a sigh of exasperation. “Holy shit, man, that’s not gonna happen. Calm down.”

Jack kicked a pebble in front of him. It hit a lamppost and then fell to the ground pathetically. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right.” He raised his chin and glanced to his right, where identical houses stood perfectly lined up next to each other. “I’m almost there, I gotta go.”

“Okay,” Race said. Jack could hear the sound of him getting out of bed, and silently wished his own saturday night could be as laid back. “Good luck with the kid, dude.”

Jack groaned in response, Race only laughed and hung up.

Jack sighed and continued down the street. If he hadn’t been there a numerous times already, he wouldn’t have been able to tell which of the many white, suburban houses was the right one. It was growing dark now, but a golden light shone from inside, making it seem friendly and warm. He knocked on the door twice and backet up a step as he waited. It took only a moment until Davey opened the door.

“Hi,” Jack said with a grin that he hoped looked more calm than he felt.

Davey leaned down and placed a quick kiss on his lips, but pulled away and grabbed hold of Jack’s arm before he could return the kiss. “Hello,” he replied with a smile and gently pulled Jack inside. “I am so glad you’re here, thank you so much for doing this.”

Jack shrugged off his jacket and nodded. “Of course,” he said. “Glad to help.”

Davey led him through to the kitchen. “Les is in the living room, Sarah’s gone already.” He gestured around the room. “You can take whatever you want from the kitchen when you’re making dinner, everything’s kosher, of course, so don’t worry about that.” He started ticking things off on his fingers. “He doesn’t like tomatoes, he has played video games all afternoon so he should take a break. No R-rated movies, or my parents will kill me, and he will probably try to tell you his bedtime is at ten, but it’s actually at nine.”

Jack tried to keep up, but the words spun around in his head without settling down. “Uh, okay,” he said and nodded anyway.

Davey made a face. “And I know Les is very hyper usually, but he’s been kind of low lately, so if you guys just watch a movie it’s totally fine. He may not want to do anything else.”

Jack nodded again. Watching a movie with Les. He could do that. “Uh, should I…” he shrugged. “Talk to him? Or…?”

Davey smiled but shook his head. “I’ve tried, he doesn’t want to tell me what’s wrong.” There was a hint of worry in his eyes, but then Jack blinked and it was gone. “A movie is fine, I promise.” Davey stopped for a second to look at him. “Thank you, again,” he said softly, and his smile made Jack’s worried ebb away. “I felt so stupid for asking, but I really couldn’t miss this class, it’s going on my college resume, and-”

“Dave,” Jack said and placed a hand on his chest. “Calm down. Don’t worry, it’s okay.”

Davey smiled again. “You are a lifesaver.”

After another round of general reminders and a couple more kisses, Davey left with a promise to be home at ten. When the door closed Jack was left with a strange quietness. He glanced around the hallway, at the pictures of the Jacobs family. He has never been in this house without Davey present. It felt wrong, almost like he was intruding.

He shook of the strangeness and went further into the house, to the living room where the noise of the TV could be heard. Les was laying on the floor, eyes fixed on the screen in front of him. He was playing some sort of racing-game, his character was quickly passing other players on a large motorcycle.

“Hey, kiddo,” Jack said, and Les glanced up.

“Hi,” he said with a small smile and then looked back at the screen.

“Whatcha doin?” Jack asked and sat down next to him. It took a moment before Les answered. The music from the videogame sped up as he neared the finish line, and it wasn’t until the screen blinked fourth place he looked up and acknowledged Jack’s question.

“Just… Playing video games.”

“I can see that.” Jack bit the inside of his lip. What was he supposed to say? Whenever they had hung out before, Les had always provided the topic of conversation. Jack had simply let himself be dragged along to the many different games, imaginary words, or weird though-processes Les had to offer. But Davey had been right. Today, Les seemed a bit off. Not as enthusiastic as he usually was. “Uh, your brother said you’ve been playing all afternoon.”

Les turned back towards the television. “Yeah, this game is actually awesome, but super hard.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, somewhat calmed by the fact that Les at least spoke to him. “Oh, really?”

Les nodded and selected a new course. He was just about to start playing when he hesitated and glanced up at Jack. “You wanna try?” he asked.

Jack contemplated for a second to follow Davey’s instructions and make Les take a break, but the game did look kind of fun. And, hey, whatever will make Les not hate him after tonight, right? “Sure.”

Turns out, the game Les had been playing was super hard, but only if you were nine years old. Jack quickly found out what buttons to push to get extra speed boosts, and he figured out what car had the best acceleration. He came in first place easily the first course and let out a triumphant whoop when he crossed the finish line. He turned so he could gloat a bit to Les, but was met with a disappointed face staring at the screen.

Jack’s grin slid off his face quickly, but Les only sighed and selected a new track without saying anything. Jack cleared his throat and turned his attention back towards the screen. This time, he deliberately swayed off course and drove into obstacles he otherwise would have easily missed. He made sure that Les was at least two places ahead of him at all times, and when the race was over he had come in sixth place while Les managed to make third.

“Hey, good job, kid,” he said and ruffled Les’ hair. “That was a really hard track you picked, you were so much better than me.” Les mumbled something and threw the controller on the ground. His face had suddenly gone from concentrated to sullen. Jack hesitated for a moment before lowering the volume of the TV and turning to him. “Is anything up, Les?”

Les glanced up at him. “You are better than me,” he muttered. “I don’t wanna play anymore. I’m hungry,” He stood up and Jack quickly followed.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” he said. “Uh, why don’t you find something to do while I make us something to eat, okay?”

The kitchen was the next obstacle of the evening. Jack spent about five minutes trying to find a saucepan, and then just as long trying to figure out how the stove worked. He did know how to cook, kind of. He knew enough to make pasta, at least. After scavenging through the freezer he emerged with a packet of pre-made chicken nuggets.

He quickly realized that cooking in someone else’s kitchen was harder than he thought it would be. The sink was weird, it took a moment for him to figure out exactly in what way to turn the knobs to make the water start running. When it did it splashed everywhere, and he had to clean up so Les wouldn’t slip on the wet floor. When it was dry enough he put some salt in the pot of water and stared at it, willing it to start boiling. He had the patience to make it luke-warm until the threw some pasta in and got started on the chicken nuggets. Lastly he looked through the fridge again to find some vegetables, because even if Les might hate him for it at least Davey would appreciate the attempt at a somewhat healthy meal.

When he closed the fridge his eyes landed on the door, where a drawing was hanging. It was obviously Les who had done it, it had all the markings of a ten-year-old’s drawing skills. It looked like some sort of animal drawn and coloured in different hues of green, but it was unclear of what animal it was supposed to be. When Jack leaned forward a bit, he saw that beneath the creature it said “Girronkey-horse”. A smile spread across his face when he looked at the picture again and could find distinguishable features: a giraffe’s long neck, a horse’s hooves and the body of a monkey. With a small chuckle, Jack started moving through the kitchen, gathering more supplies for dinner. Children were fucking awesome.

He started humming as he found a cutting board and a knife. He felt good. He felt proud of himself. He could do this. He was gonna make dinner for the two of them, and Davey would be super impressed by his babysitting-skills.

An image of Davey floated to the front of his brain as he grabbed some tomatoes and rinsed them before bringing them back to the cutting board. Davey, coming back home to find a happy Les sleeping in his bed and a calm, collected Jack who had taken good care of his little brother. Jack could imagine the smile on Davey’s face, the impressed quirk of his eyebrow as he would glance around the very clean kitchen.

Footsteps brought him back from his daydream, and he smiled when Les came into the kitchen. “What are you singing?” Les asked.

Jack almost dropped the knife, but managed to keep his grip of it and not cut any fingers off. “I wasn’t singing,” he said quickly.

Les grinned. “You were! I think it was Frozen.”

Jack decided he couldn’t talk his way out this one and held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, I plead guilty,” he said.

Les sat down at the table. “What does that mean?”

“Haven’t you seen any crime shows?” Les shook his head. “I’ll have to talk to your brother about your cultural education, then.”

He turned back to the cutting board and continued rinsing and cutting vegetables before putting them in a small bowl. Without thinking about it, he started humming to himself again. It was a habit he had picked up years ago, watching as Medda always sang while cooking dinner. It took but a minute for Les to join in the song. Soon they were both belting to Let it go as loudly as they could. Les yelled more than sang, but he had a grin on his face as he did, so Jack only joined in and hoped the neighbors wouldn’t call the police for disturbing the neighborhood’s peace and quiet.

“Do you like Frozen?” Jack asked with a laugh when they were both done and panting.

“No,” Les said. “Lucas says it’s stupid.”

Jack raised his eyebrows. “Who’s Lucas?”Les shrugged. “A friend from school. He says it’s not for boys.”

Jack nodded slowly and took the pasta off the stove. “But I like Frozen, and I’m a boy.”

Les was quiet for a second, as if he was contemplating this. Jack felt a small smile grow on his face. “You can like Frozen and still be a boy, trust me.” Les looked at him with eyes slowly widening, but he didn’t say anything. Jack just shook his head with a smile. “Anyway, I think dinner is ready.”

He brought plates, glasses and the pasta to the table and started piling food onto Les’ plate. Everything was going smoothly until Les stopped in his tracks, the fork halfway to the plate. “What’s that?”

He pointed to the small bowl of vegetables. Jack took the spoon and put some on his plate. “Just some veggies, cucumber, carrots, tomatoes…”

“I don’t like tomatoes.”

Jack stopped. Shit. Right. Davey had told him that not even an hour ago. How could he have forgotten?

Les continued to stare at the tomatoes as if they had personally hurt him. Jack nodded hastily. “Oh, uh, right… I’ll just…” He cleared his throat and moved to push away the tomatoes. “I can take them away, how about that?”

Les looked frustrated. “No, they’ve touched the cucumbers now!”

“You won’t be able to taste it,” Jack promised with a hint of desperation in his voice.

Les pushed the plate away. “I don’t wanna eat that.”

Jack sighed and sat back. So much for a healthy meal. “You need to eat some vegetables, Les.”

Les made a face. “But I don’t like it.”

For a second Jack closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said with a sigh and looked at Les again. “But what about the pasta? And the chicken nuggets?”

Les leaned forward and inspected the plate closely. Jack held his breath. After a moment Les nodded slowly. “I guess.” He hesitantly picked up his fork and pierced a chicken nugget. He took a bite, and Jack breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t spit it out.

The rest of dinner went somewhat smoothly. They ate, and meanwhile Jack asked Les about everything and anything he could come up with.

“Who do you hang out with at school?”

“Michael, Theo… Oh, and Lucas. But Michael is my best friend.”

“What’s your favorite movie?”

“Sherlock Gnomes.”

Jack whistled. “You like Sherlock Holmes? That’s impressive, have you read the books?”

Les furrowed his eyebrows. “What? Not Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Gnomes,” he clarified, as if this was obvious and Jack was a bit slow.

Jack, who had never seen that movie, only nodded. “Cool,” he said. “Uh, so, how’s school? What’s your favorite subject?”

Les’ face fell somewhat, and he suddenly avoided Jack’s gaze. “I don’t have a favorite subject,” he mumbled. He picket at the pasta with his fork, dragging it back and forth across the plate, resulting in streaks of ketchup crossing each other and the remaining pasta being pushed to the side. It was dangerously close to spilling over to the table.

Jack sighed and sat up a little straighter. Fuck Davey’s advice, he couldn’t just ignore whatever was bothering Les. “Why not?” he asked. “Do you love all of them equally?” He really hoped that was the answer, but somehow he doubted it.

Les shook his head feverently. “No,” he said. “I hate them.”

Jack raised his eyebrows. “That’s too bad. Is there nothing in school you think is fun?”

The question didn’t land as well as he would have hoped, because Les only sank down lower in his seat. “No.”

“Okay,” Jack said and searched his brain for anything that might help. “Uh, why not? Is there something wrong with your teachers?”

Les glanced up at Jack but averted his gaze just as quickly. “No,” he repeated.

Jack pursed his lips. Okay, maybe getting Les to talk wasn’t as easy as he had thought. “Les, you know what?” he said. “It’s okay if you don’t feel like talking, I don’t feel like talking sometimes either.” He rose from the table with a sigh and took the two plates to the sink. “And I know you haven’t told your brother what’s wrong, but I think that sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone you’re not close to, right?” The water hit the plates and splashed over Jack’s t-shirt, and he sighed. He was so busy trying to turn the tap off that he barely heard when Les started talking again. He glanced over his shoulder while reaching for napkins to dry himself off. “What was that, buddy?”

Les was drawing patterns into the table with his finger. “I said that I’m the problem.”

Jack slowed down. Les still didn’t look up from the table. His lips were pouting slightly, and Jack felt a small knot start to form in his stomach. He turned around and walked back to the table to sit down. “What makes you say that?”

Les shrugged. “I’m stupid,” he said. “I don’t get good grades like Davey and Sarah.” His voice was no longer quiet, but instead rising with a slight flush on his cheeks. “Especially math.”

Jack sighed. “Okay,” he said and dragged his chair closer to Les. “You know what, I’m gonna let you in on a little secret.”

Les quickly looked up. “What secret?”

Jack looked seriously at him and leaned forward a tiny bit. “I’m not that good at school, either.”

Les was quiet for a moment. He looked perplexed. “Really?” he asked.

Jack nodded. “Yeah,” he said and then smiled. “Sometimes I don’t understand what the teacher is trying to explain, and sometimes I can’t concentrate. Especially in math.”

Les was gazing at him with wide eyes. “But you are dating Davey,” he said with a slightly confused tilt of his head, as if this wasn’t adding up.

Jack broke into a smile. “I am,” he agreed. “Davey likes me even though I don’t always get A’s.” Les didn’t say anything, so he continued. “And, you know what? It’s okay that I don’t always do great in math. You know why?”

“Why?”

Jack nudged him, making him jump a bit in his seat. “Because I do my best, and I always try again.” He got of the chair and instead crouched so he was on the same height as Les. “The most important thing isn’t to always be the one with the best grades, or to get all the points on that test.”

“But Davey and Sarah-”

“Davey and Sarah love you and think you’re great, no matter your grades.” he promised. “The most important thing is to be a good person, and to always try to do the best you can without giving up.” He grinned. “And besides, you are awesome at so many things besides math, right?”

Les looked  doubtful. “Like what?” he asked Jack, who let out an incredulous laugh.

“Like what? Oh man, it’s gonna take forever if I’m gonna go through everything…” Les smiled thinly, and Jack took this as a personal victory. “Let’s see,” he said and started counting on his fingers. “You are super funny, you always make me laugh. You can sing very loudly, which is super cool.” He spun around and pointed to the fridge. “And, hey, look at that! This picture is so awesome, you are a real artist.”

Les perked up. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Jack said and ruffled his hair. “And I draw a lot, so I know what I’m talking about.” Les smiled. It made the knot in Jack’s stomach loosen up a little bit. “Hey, you wanna watch a movie? Maybe you can show me that gnome-thing.”

When Davey came back home a couple of hours later, he could hear the sound from what was obviously the TV playing a children-movie. He glanced at the clock on the wall and felt a hint of annoyance because, really, Les should be in bed by now. But when he went into the living room he spotted his boyfriend lounging on the couch, eyes closely fixed on the screen with an almost trance-like look on his face. Les was half laying on him, snoring quietly and drooling on Jack’s shirt. He didn’t even notice.

“Hey,” Davey said softly and placed a kiss on the top of Jack’s head. “Everything all right?”

Jack glanced up with a tired, but pleased, smile. “Yeah, all good,” he said. “How was the class?”

“Fine,” Davey said and looked at his little brother. “How is he?”

“Good. I didn’t want to wake him.”

Davey nodded and sat down in the armchair next to the couch. “So, what are we watching?”

Jack perked up. “Gnomeo and Juliet.”

Davey gave him a look. “No.”

“Yes.”

He groaned and sank down in the armchair. “Oh god, he has corrupted you.”

Jack laughed at Davey’s look, but quickly stopped when Les moved against him. “Shit, I hope I’m not waking him up.”

Davey’s gaze softened as he watched Jack carefully lower the volume on the TV. A pang of gratitude hit him, and he broke into a smile. “Thank you, again, for doing this. I know you would have rather done something else on a saturday night.” He gave him a look. “And I know you were kind of nervous before.”

Jack’s gaze flew from Les to Davey. He felt his cheeks warm up. “I had fun.”

“So, there was no need to be nervous?” Davey’s look is meaningful and slightly teasing.

Jack made a face. “For babysitting, no. However, I should be nervous for when you see the mess I made in the kitchen.”

Davey laughed and after a second, Jack joined in. Les snuggled closer to him and sighed in his sleep. Jack shook his head. “Nah, but honestly? I think I could babysit again sometime. It wasn’t too bad.”

[dr-gloom]

Starlight, Starbright

A present for my son @dead4sevenyears! Happy birthday, kiddo! <3<3<3

Fandom: Sander’s Sides

Pairing: Analogical

Words: 2,377

Summary: Virgil didn’t want to meet his soulmate. He didn’t want that instant, flowing love. He was too scared that he would disappoint them, that they’d be stuck in a loveless relationship with no out just because society dictated that soulmates were forever. 

Tags/Warnings: angst, Human AU, soulmate AU (drawing on the skin), some swearing

Enjoy!

Read it on AO3

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His parents had told Virgil about soulmates when he was eight. They’d sat him down on a Saturday morning, cartoons waiting on the TV in the living room as they told him to sit on his bed. He’d thought he was in trouble for drawing in class again, but instead of giving him a lecture on how he needs to pay better attention in class, they’d explained that everyone had a special someone out there for him. They explained that this special someone had a link with him, and that this link became stronger when he was nine.

His parents demonstrated this by pulling out pens, drawing on their arms and showing it to Virgil. Virgil watched the matching hearts appear on their forearms with wide eyes, and his mother smiled. She continued to explain that soulmates were meant to be forever, and that when Virgil met his, he’d fall in love with them instantly. She’d been smiling so kindly, happy to see that her son was so interested in this. In reality, he was freaking out. He didn’t want the universe to decide who he should love. He didn’t want to fall in love with someone without having a decision in the matter, or be forced to live with them for the rest of his life.

His parents had left his room, and young Virgil decided on that pleasant Saturday morning that he wouldn’t meet his soulmate, because he wanted to have a choice.

Virgil sat on his bed, leaning back against the headboard as he listened to music and scrolled through Tumblr on his phone. His forearm started to tingle, and he pulled the sleeve of his hoodie up to look at it. Lines in deep blue ink slowly started to form on his skin, forming the chemical compound for dopamine. Virgil only knew that because his soulmate had been drawing the same picture every morning for the last ten years, and he’d looked it up. He sighed, going back to his phone.

In the ten years since his soulmate had written their first “Hello?”, Virgil had never once drawn on his skin. He had no interest in communicating with his soulmate, and had hoped that his resolute silence would make them stop. It didn’t, though. These daily doodles of dopamine, Virgil had determined, were his soulmate’s way of wishing him a good day. When they were younger, he’d constantly draw or write messages to Virgil, but somewhere between his fourteenth and fifteenth birthdays, the messages became less, “How are you?” or “Do you like dogs?” and more, “Starbucks on 5th Street, Larington, FL”. He’d always look up the address, but he never went.

His arm started to tingle again, and he tried not to look, he really did. He glanced down when it stopped, reading the same neat deep blue handwriting.

I start college tomorrow. Twin Rivers College in Larington, FL. If you live nearby, maybe we’ll run into each other.

Virgil frowned at his arm. That was his college. Should he write back?

No, never. Don’t bother, they’d never like you anyways, and you’d be dooming the both of you to a life of false love until you die.

Virgil pulls his sleeve down and shoves earbuds in his ears.

Logan locked his car, grabbing his backpack and shutting the door. He glanced at the fading ink on his arm with a small sigh. He hadn’t gotten an answer yesterday, but then again that was the norm. He had considered many times when he was younger that he had no soulmate - it was rare, but still possible - but once in a while a pen mark that he knew he hadn’t made would appear on his hand, arm, or knee, and he knew that his soulmate probably knocked their skin with their pen by accident. It gave him hope; he wasn’t one to believe in fate or destiny, but he liked to think that if he had a soulmate, they’d find each other whether they communicated or not.

His dad had told him that his soulmate might be anxious to talk to him, or depressed, so when Logan had learned about dopamine he’d looked up the structure and started drawing it on his forearm every morning. It was sort of his way of telling his soulmate that it was okay, he understood, and he hoped they were okay. He never stopped writing to them in the hopes that one day they’d finally reply, letting them know when he was going somewhere in case they felt up to meeting him there (assuming he was lucky enough that they lived near him). No one ever came, but that was okay.

He walked through campus, looking at all the bared forearms that caught his eye, trying to look for a copy of the fading picture on his own arm. He made his way to the library, sitting at a table by himself and looking around. No drawings. He pulls out his blue pen, re-inking the dopamine structure on his arm before taking a book out of his bag to read. He had about an hour before his first class, so he might as well read.

Virgil had gotten to the college entirely too early, too anxious to be late, or not have time to eat. He sat in the library, closer to the wall by himself, scrolling through his phone. Someone walked in and sat at the only empty table close to him, but he tried not to pay them any mind. His arm started to tingle, but he’d already resolved to ignore it. It was probably a question about if he was going to college too, or more dopamine. It was nice, but he already felt like crap for avoiding them when they were this close; he couldn’t pretend they were in a different city or state, anymore.

He checks the time, seeing that it was getting pretty close to noon. He might as well go grab lunch, right? He grabs his backpack and tosses it over his shoulder, gripping the strap and heading out. The tingling sensation hasn’t gone away for some reason, so Virgil pulls his sleeve up, scratching at the skin lightly. Someone suddenly grabs his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks, and he turns to ask just what the hell they think they’re doing when a flash of blue catches his eyes. The same drawing he’s seen on his arm for years is reflected back at him, and his eyes widen. Oh no.

He ran.

Logan watched the terror drain the color from his soulmate’s face, turning and running out of the library. A feeling of guilt washed over him as he sat back down. He shouldn’t have just grabbed him like that, especially considering his soulmate’s hesitance to answer him for all these years. He turns back to his book, but he finds he can’t focus. His soulmate’s face keeps flashing behind his eyelids, drawing his focus. Maybe he should try something else, if he ever runs into him again.

The next week and a half are the most tense, anxious days of Virgil’s life as he tries to keep his head down. He rushes when he walks across campus, avoiding the library at all costs, and doesn’t stay in one spot for long if he can help it. He doesn’t want to risk running into his soulmate. The look on his face is burned into the back of Virgil’s retinas; the barely concealed hope in his eyes, lips parted like he wanted to speak but couldn’t form the words, eyebrows raised in surprise. Virgil swore under his breath as his heart rate picked up, but it wasn’t from anxiety. This isn’t good, you’re already falling for him. You can never see him again, you’re going to ruin his life.

Virgil sits at a table in the corner of the cafeteria, facing the room so he can keep an eye out while he munches on crappy cafeteria food. He’s almost done eating when he sees his soulmate from across the room, looking right at him and walking over. Oh shit, oh fuck, abort abort abort-

Logan stands in front of his soulmate, hands clasped behind him to hide his fidgeting. He sucks in a breath through his nose and speaks before the other can start running. “I’m terribly sorry for my conduct over a week ago. The way I approached you was not acceptable, and I have realized my mistake. I am sorry for scaring you like that, and… If you would like, I would like to be friends.”

His soulmate looks up at him in slight surprise. “...Friends?” Logan nods. “Yes. While most of society deems soulmates to be a definite, lifelong romantic commitment, I believe it is important to get to know one first before commiting to a relationship.” His soulmate seemed to relax at his words, and he knew he’d said the right thing. He gestures to the chair in front of him. “May I sit?” His soulmate nods, and Logan sits, holding out a hand. “I am Logan Abbott, and you?” The other hesitantly takes his hand. “...Virgil Shae.”

“So, Virgil, do you like dogs? You never answered my question.” Virgil’s eyes widen slightly and he laughs, making Logan smile.

Logan opened the door to his apartment, sighing as he shrugged off his coat and hung it up. “Virgil, I’m ho-.” He called into the house, only to be cut off when something barreled into his side. He looked down at a head of purple hair, smiling softly and hugging Virgil. “Hello to you too.”

“You’re late.”

Logan sighs. “Yes, I’m afraid I needed to finish the last details on my project before I could leave. I apologize.” Virgil leaned up and gave Logan a brief kiss, both men closing their eyes. “It’s okay. You hungry?” Logan nods, and Virgil leads him to the kitchen where the table’s already been set with dinner, candles, hell even a tablecloth and placemats. Logan raises an eyebrow. “What’s all this?” Virgil looks up at him, slightly confused.

“It’s our two-year anniversary, Lo.”

Logan’s eyes widen with realization. “I’m terribly sorry, my starlight, I seem to have forgotten.” He felt awful; not only had he kept Virgil waiting, but on their anniversary, no less. Virgil shrugs, smiling slightly. “It’s no big deal, Lo, I promise.” They share another kiss before sitting, eating dinner and talking about their days. It’s all terribly domestic, and Logan loves it. He loves Virgil. He listens to Virgil talk about someone at the vet who wouldn’t leave the kitten room, gesticulating a little wildly, his expression exasperated, and Logan feels like he’s falling for Virgil all over again.

He feels the small box in his pocket, thinking. He carried it around with him in case a good moment arose to bring it out (and because he was worried Virgil might find it while cleaning), but no such luck had occurred yet. Virgil snrks at something he remembers as he tells his story, and Logan decides to go for it. He’s waited six months to do this, and tonight seemed like the perfect time. He interrupts Virgil with an apologetic smile. “Virgil, I need to discuss something with you.” Virgil’s mouth shuts and he lowers his hands, placing them in his lap. Logan knows he’s picking at his cuticles in a nervous habit, and he wishes he could grab Virgil’s hands to stop him but he needs to do this before he chickens out. He nods to himself, looking at Virgil.

“Virgil… These have been the best two years of my life. I would even argue that the past seven have been the best; since I met you, my world has changed. You have taught me the importance of patience, the value of empathy, and the care in loving someone. You keep me out of my head, and help me to appreciate what I have. Every day I spend with you is another day happier than I was before I met you, and every day I fall more in love with you. I want to be there for you when you’re stressed or anxious, when the world becomes too much and you just want it to all stop. I want to be there when you’re overcome with joy, when you’re enjoying the calm, when you need a shoulder or an ear or just a companion to share the silence. I want to wake up next to you for the rest of my life. I want you to always be the one I fall asleep next to. I want to come home to your smile every day, to get your texts reminding me to stay safe when I get off work. I want to grow old with you. Virgil… would you marry me?”

Logan had moved to crouch at a knee beside Virgil’s chair somewhere during his speech, looking up at Virgil as he held the ring in his hand. Virgil stared down at him with shocked eyes, tears dripping black eyeshadow down his cheeks and a hand clamped over his mouth. He takes it away to respond, clenching it in his lap as he looks down at Logan. “Y-you’re going to regret this one day. You’re going to get sick of me, and you’ll resent me because soulmates can’t divorce.”

Logan smiles at Virgil sadly, shaking his head. “Never, my starlight. I will always love you, with all of my heart.” Virgil lets out a choked sob, searching Logan’s face. Logan looks at him with all of the love in the world, and Virgil knows he means what he says. He nods, giving a shaky smile. “Y-yeah, okay. Yes.” Logan smiles brightly, a smile to rival Patton’s usual iridescent smile, and slips the ring onto Virgil’s ring finger. He stands, helping Virgil to his feet, and move to the couch. Virgil cuddles into Logan’s side as they sit in silence, studying the ring chilling his finger.

“Hey Lo?”

Logan looks down at Virgil. “Yes?”

Virgil looks up at Logan, kissing him briefly before pulling back with a small smile. “I love you.”

Logan smiles and kisses the top of Virgil’s head. “I love you too, my starlight.”

[ecchima]

The Sound of Silence

Summary:

In a world where everyone hears music whenever their soulmate does, two souls struggle to find their other halves.

As far as he can remember, Hanzo has always been deaf but it's ok, because he can still hear music in his head.

As far as Jesse can tell, he doesn't have a soulmate at all.

Words: 8,1k Rating: T Warning: none Note: thank you to @delanbie, the McHanzo sanctuary server and my beta Soap. This fic wouldn’t have been writen and published without them! Art: http://delanbie.tumblr.com/post/170956941912/all-the-art-i-did-for-soulmate-au-from-the-mchanzo

AO3

Since the day he was born, Hanzo has been living in a world of silence. For years, no one knew why the young heir to the well-known Shimada clan did not speak.

At first, his parents thought he was just a quiet child, and the elders thrilled that even as a baby, their new heir was well behaved. It did not last long. When they noticed that Hanzo was starting to fall behind the other kids his age, his family tried to make him speak at all costs. Finally, after many fruitless attempts, they brought him to the hospital where a poor nurse had to deliver them the fatal news: Hanzo was born deaf.

A deaf leader? What a disgrace. The day following the news, Sojiro was called in front of the elders. Within the next month, Hanzo’s mom was pregnant again and nine months later, Genji was born.

They ran tests on the newborn as soon as they could, and all of them came back negative.

It did not take long for the elders to proclaim Genji their new heir, leaving Hanzo in the shadows.

When he was seven, instead of being sent to school, Hanzo was asked to sit for hours and learn sign language properly. He had known basic words, to ask for food or tell his parents he was cold, but even a disowned member of the Shimada clan must be flawless, and so he learned.

It was hard at first, since Hanzo did not know many words in either sign language or Japanese, but it brought him great joy whenever his father would ask him how his day was and he could answer with his own words. Sometimes, one or both of his parents would take the class with him, making his day even better.

Because of this, Hanzo did not have friends but he had something else, something better: a voice singing in his head. He didn’t know why it was the only thing he could hear, or why he seemed to be the only one able to hear it, but it happened nonetheless. Sometimes during class, or over dinner, he could hear either a clear and soft voice or a loud and boisterous one singing.

As far as he could remember, the singing had always been there and so he never wondered nor asked where it came from, or why it was the only thing he could hear.

One night, after a nightmare, he started humming the tune of one of the songs he had heard, unable to hear his own voice but feeling the vibrations through his mouth. It soothed him to pretend he could hear the voice singing. But he hummed so loudly and out of tune that it woke Genji up, upsetting him.

Hanzo tried to apologize to his little brother but Genji had dashed out of the room, crying that Hanzo was being mean to him and keeping him up on purpose.

Of course no one understood what was happening; Hanzo had never tried to use his voice before. When he told them he was simply trying to replicate the song he could hear in his head, his parents looked at each other oddly. His mother started crying and his father laughed.

They told him to go back to bed, that they would explain tomorrow, but Hanzo lingered. The elders weren’t around and Genji was already falling back asleep in their parent’s bed. He looked up and signed, “Can I stay?”

His parents did not even hesitate, signing back, “Of course.”

The following day, they all sat under the cherry blossoms and Hanzo’s mother started telling a story while her husband signed it.

Long ago, a young fisherman man fell in love with a woman whose singing was so mesmerizing that it was said to bring fortune unto whoever listened to it. He loved her so much that he would come by her house every day with a new gift, even though he was not particularly rich. He would bring her fruits, flowers, and on very rare occasions, pearls he had found in the sea.

She kept every one of his presents, and insisted that he did not have to bring any more, that he could come see her whenever he wanted. But every time, the young man arrived with another present.

One day, there was a violent storm and the young man broke his arm. He was unable to work but kept on bringing gifts to the woman. She begged him to stop, to keep what little he had at least long enough for him to heal, but he stubbornly refused.

She proposed to him then, saying, “If I am your wife, you will have no need to court me anymore.” The young man could not refuse such a proposition.

They got married on a beautiful day, had one child they loved above everything else, and grew old together.

The people in the village said they were so in love, their souls must be bound together. But, as the time passed, their health started to decay. The man’s knees protested when carrying him and the woman’s hearing started to fade.

Saddened to see his wife unable to sing or listen to any kind of music, the now-old man prayed to the gods, begging them to give his own hearing to his wife so that she could be happy again.

Upon seeing such great love, the gods agreed that two souls bound to be lovers would be able to hear the same music as their other halves.

When his mother finished her tale, she looked at Hanzo and signed, “I am so happy to know there is someone out there for you.”

As Hanzo grew older and became fluent in Japanese Sign Language, he was asked to learn the American one as well. After all, Genji had to learn English, so why shouldn’t he? And since he was finally able to understand his tutors, why not teach him other things? He was a Shimada after all, and Shimadas must be flawless.

Between being deeply buried in his education, Genji just starting his own, and with clan matters taking up most of his parents’ time, Hanzo started to feel lonely. He couldn’t ask his non-disabled brother to come home early after school and deny him the joy of having friends outside of the family, nor could he stay behind his mother’s robes, so he did what lonely kids with a lot of free time do: he started to draw.

Drawing was a nice, silent and creative activity that Hanzo could practice on his own, and it gave him a way to express himself without signing. At first, the only things he wanted to draw were cool and impressive dragons, just like the ones in his family’s dojo. Then he tried his hand at sentai warriors because Genji would stay stuck to the TV screen on Saturday mornings, watching those superheroes kick butt.

Practice makes perfect, as the saying goes, and Hanzo was a fast learner with lots of free time. At nine years old, he won an artistic contest after Genji had submitted one of his drawings in secret. The elders were not pleased, but Hanzo had a proud smile stuck to his face for weeks.

One day, as he was experimenting with inks, Hanzo heard a young voice in his head singing a song he had never heard before. It was a happy tune, the sort of thing he could picture Genji humming. The song was accompanied by some sort of instrument, but it seemed like the person singing did not know how to play it because some of the notes sounded as though they did not belong. Like that time Hanzo tried to paint a blue sky but messed up his gradient.

That comparison made him pause and look at his sheets of expensive ink paper. What if he tried drawing the song in his head?

During the following years, Hanzo mastered both American and Chinese sign languages on top of his other studies. Frustrated by his dependence on his hands to communicate, he began to take lessons in lip reading and, encouraged by his tutor, started learning how to speak.

Reading lips was hard, and learning how to talk through only vibrations was even harder, but Hanzo could always count on the music in his head to cheer him up. After all, one day he would meet his soulmate and he wanted to be able to explain just how much their songs meant to him, how they inspired him to paint… And how they kept him going.

He may not have been able to hear what people were saying about him, but he was not blind. He could see their fake smiles and hypocrisy from miles away. They pretended to like him, to be proud of him, but they pitied him. The perfect heir, put aside because he could not hear, working so hard to learn. How sad.

Meanwhile, Genji started to show just how little he cared about the clan, and Hanzo knew an argument was brewing about whether or not he should have stayed the heir.

Soon after Genji’s first attempt at rebellion -he had dyed his hair a horrendous shade of green- his mother grew ill and died. His father, facing an increasing number of duties, was all too happy to bury himself deeper into work to drown out his sorrow.

The only thing that brought warmth to Hanzo’s cold and broken world was the music he could hear from his soulmate. But even that was growing more melancholic and sad. He could still hear the musical instrument -his soulmate getting better at it- but more often than not, the music was just a sad acapella. The notes weighed heavily on Hanzo’s soul.

He wished he could sing back to tell his soulmate he was there, that they would meet someday and live happily. But he knew that even if he could sing perfectly, the person he wanted to sing for wouldn’t hear it.

As Hanzo entered adulthood, the music in his head changed. After years of sorrowful tunes, the joy he had heard as a child began to come back. It started as a rare occurrence, one song here and there in the middle of long stretches of silence, but it was definitely coming back, bringing a palette of warm colors to Hanzo’s paintings that hadn’t been seen in a very long time.

Suddenly, life was bearable again. Not quite happy, but good enough. Hanzo started to exhibit his work, and the elders were too busy with Genji’s rebellion to advise him against it.

Success knocked at his door -the people loved his paintings, both the sad and the happy ones. The elders let it slide, pleased to have good publicity for a change.

A couple years before Hanzo turned thirty, he noticed the singing in his head was becoming muffled. The songs were happier and more frequent, but somewhat muted. At first, he thought it was himself paying less attention to it, but soon he realized he had trouble understanding the lyrics when he had once heard them as though his soulmate was sitting next to him.

He started to worry: what if his soulmate was ill? It could be that their strength was leaving them… What if the gods had decided that Hanzo did not deserve this person? He had never tried to leave the city to seek them out, after all.

The days passed and the music grew fainter each day, almost unnoticeably slowly. Anguish rendered Hanzo’s paintings tormented, tortuous. He started painting foggy forests and muddy water, giving the viewer the impression that they could get swallowed and lost.

People called them masterpieces; Hanzo called them nightmares.

The last song he heard from his soulmate reminded Hanzo of his mother’s funeral. It was muted, sad, and made him feel miserable. After that, there was nothing.

Hanzo had always been deaf, but for the first time in his life, he was truly left in silence.

The first few weeks of complete silence were bad but manageable; when it turned into months, Hanzo started to worry a lot more. What if his soulmate had died? What if that last macabre song had been played at their funeral?

Hanzo found the silence smothering, making it hard for him to get up in the morning, hard to wash up, hard to eat.

One day, Genji entered his room with a bounce in his step. Hanzo wasn’t sure just how long it had been since he last left his room, but seeing his little brother admittedly made him feel better. Until Genji really looked at him and his features scrunched up into a frown, sadness and worry evident in his eyes.

“Hanzo, what’s wrong?” Genji signed.

He opened his mouth to answer but could not muster the strength to use his voice. He felt tears form at the corners of his eyes, so he tried to wipe them with his sleeve only to find that he did not have the strength to do that either. So he simply cried.

He didn’t know when Genji sat on the bed to hug him, but once he had calmed enough to feel the world around him, he found himself holding onto his little brother like a lifeline. He was tired; he wanted to sleep and never wake up again, but when he gently pushed Genji to let him know he wanted to rest, his brother signed again.

“I don’t want to force you, but you seem like you need to talk about it.”

So Hanzo did. They sat there for hours as Hanzo spilled his heart, telling his younger brother everything about the music, how it had started to fade, how it had stopped for months and how hollow it had left him.

Genji stayed by his side, rubbing comforting circles on his shoulder through it all. Once he was done signing, Genji took ahold of his jaw, making him look up.

“You know what? The elders don’t need us and you could use a vacation. How does a trip to America sound?”

It took some time to convince Hanzo to leave Japan, then some more time to convince the elders that the vacation was very much needed while their continued presence in Japan was not. But when they finally landed in San Francisco, Hanzo felt some of the tension leave his body.

Genji did his best to give Hanzo the most amazing holiday he could and, in turn, Hanzo tried to be less of a burden on his younger brother. There were still bad days, but he was doing better overall so they decided to stay. They rented a nice, modern house by the sea and started what they called their “second life.”

The elders called about once a month to discuss their “allowance,” as if they were still children, but never asked them to come back. Eventually, Genji found a job as a martial arts instructor in hopes of cutting the bridge between them and the clan. Hanzo likewise began working as a Sign Language teacher and soon their “allowance” was cut off.

Their only link left with the clan was their aging and retired father, who was all too happy to call them both to pass the time.

Eventually, Hanzo took up his artistic hobbies again, painting various places in the city. He could see the pain in his brother’s eyes whenever he showed him his monochrome ink paintings, depicting the world as he saw it: cold, uninviting, and colorless. He refused to use color; the cheerful hues reminded him too much of a time he believed to be over, of a world where he knew someone was out there for him.

A few months after they made the decision to stay in San Francisco and almost a year after the overbearing silence had started, Hanzo found himself humming. He was in the middle of a class, watching his students -people of all ages and origins- practice conversing when it happened.

It came naturally to him, like getting back on a bicycle after winter had passed. That may be why he did not notice it until a bunch of his students looked at him with weird expressions on their faces. He turned to face them and signed, “Is something wrong?”

They looked at each other until one of his favorite students, a young mother learning the language to communicate with her deaf niece, signed back to him.

“It’s just,” she paused to choose her signs carefully, “we have never heard you hum before.”

Hanzo shot her an incredulous look. There was no way he could have been humming; he hadn’t even heard music since-

That’s when he noticed it, that barely audible and rusty hum in his head. A muted song morphing into whispered lyrics:

Fools, said I, you do not know Silence like a cancer grows Hear my words that I might teach you Take my arms that I might reach you But my words like silent raindrops fell

And echoed In the wells Of silence

The rusty voice faded back into a hum then, and Hanzo found himself unable to move. The voice was definitely deeper and harsher than he remembered, but it was there, his soulmate was there.

Hanzo let out a sob, unable to keep the tears from falling. His entire class was looking at him then, and the mother from earlier started to applaud. Soon, all of his students were clapping their hands, congratulating him. Even though they didn’t know the story, they could tell it had something to do with his soulmate and they knew just how important it was.

As soon as he could stand up and hold his phone, Hanzo excused himself to video call his younger brother. He started to cry again when he tried to deliver the news, making it impossible to talk. After ten minutes of fruitless tears, he received a text from Genji, asking Hanzo to join him at the dojo.

When he got there, Genji cut his class short and lead them both to a secluded booth in a café. He got them hot drinks and let Hanzo talk as long as he needed, not interrupting even once, which was a rather impressive feat for Genji.

When Hanzo was finished, Genji gave him a hug and insisted that Hanzo hum him the song.  He did, with hands on his temple and throat to better feel the vibrations. It was probably horrible, but Genji listened and thanked him nonetheless before telling him the name of the song: “The Sound of Silence.”

During the next few days, Hanzo heard humming and singing a lot, but there was no trace of a musical instrument. He didn’t know why his soulmate had been silent for so long or why the instrument was gone now, but he suspected a pretty bad accident or severe depression. He tried not to think too hard about it and just enjoy the simple knowledge that someone out there was meant for him and, more importantly, that he could hear them sing.

A week later, Hanzo was sitting in their living room, dozing off while Genji was watching a documentary. They had the subtitles off so he wouldn’t be distracted from the scenery, content to watch as colorful birds performed some kind of mating dance on the screen while his soulmate’s humming played in his head. He burrowed deeper into their comfortable sofa, ready to fall asleep, when suddenly the humming got very loud, startling him.

For a few minutes, the volume of the humming varied wildly before settling on a somewhat normal middle setting. That’s when he realized: his soulmate must be trying out hearing aids. Hanzo grabbed Genji’s shoulder then, shaking him in his excitement. His soulmate’s hearing was impaired; they would be able to relate when they finally met!

Hanzo talked too fast and had to repeat the signs more slowly for Genji, who then grinned and told him that he believed his own soulmate had hearing aids, too. Hanzo gasped, unaware that Genji had heard his soulmate at all. With all his personal turmoil during the past year, he hadn’t even thought to ask his younger brother about it. It was time to change that.

“You did not tell me about your soulmate,” he signed.

“Well, I went to your room the day I heard them for the first time so I could tell you about it but,” he paused and looked away. Hanzo shook his shoulder again, prompting him to continue. “But then I saw you in your bed, unwashed and with the biggest circles under your eyes; it just didn’t seem like the right moment.”

“Well, I am better now and I want to know.”

Genji smiled. “Let’s get started then!”

After that night, Hanzo made sure to regularly ask Genji about his soulmate, learning that once a month they would listen to calm instrumentals while checking their hearing aid settings, that they sometimes listened to music closer to Genji’s tastes, and that one time they had spent a day listening to musical pieces from different periods in chronological order.

“They seem to have a very curious nature,” Genji said over dinner. “Although I’ve never heard them sing or hum anything so it’s a bit weird.”

“Maybe they simply cannot speak,” Hanzo answered.

Genji shrugged it off, asking him about his own soulmate instead. “Do they still practice?”

“Yes.” Hanzo smiled. “They practice every day though they are still very far from how good they used to be. I wonder if they broke an arm.”

“You said they’ve been practicing for, what, a month?”

“A month and 28 days, actually.”

Genji laughed. “You have it so bad, brother! And you haven’t even met them!!!”

Hanzo smacked the back of his head, laughing. It felt so good to be close to his brother. They had never spent much time together as kids, mostly because of the language barrier.

Genji waved at him to get his attention before signing, “Did you make up your mind about the art gallery's offer?”

“I think I will accept it, although I will ask them if they can wait until I have a more… joyful piece to offer. If my soulmate lives in the area, I don’t want them to think I am gloomy.”

“I don’t think they live in the area; from what you’ve told me, they sing way too many country songs.” He laughed but put a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, brother. We’ll find them.”

As time passed, more and more art galleries called Hanzo -they even had to buy a device that could translate the audio into text- to ask if they could exhibit and sell a few of his paintings. Hanzo accepted every offer except when a deal wasn’t good enough, wanting nothing more than to become famous enough that his soulmate would one day see his paintings.

He still taught sign language classes but not as many. Now that he was becoming famous, he no longer needed the money, but he didn’t want to let it go completely as he’d found that he actually liked to teach.

One day, an association called him to ask if he could give art classes to hearing-impaired and mute teenagers and children, to which he immediately agreed because he knew how hard it could be to find a capable instructor. Even his family’s wealth hadn’t lured any deaf-friendly art teachers, and he had to learn to read lips before he was finally able to study with a professional.

Two years after Hanzo had settled in San Francisco -and about one year after he started to hear his soulmate again- the music played by the instrument in his head was almost flawless. But then something weird started to happen.

Every day, for a few hours, Hanzo would hear the instrument play a bunch of notes over and over again, testing new combinations and different rhythms before stopping then starting anew. He didn’t really know what was happening, and he guessed that his soulmate had just decided to practice a complicated song, but after a week, lyrics joined in and Hanzo realized: his soulmate was composing a song.

It was a soft melody, the kind that reminded Hanzo of watching snow fall through the window while snuggling under the kotatsu, but also the kind you wouldn’t mind listening to to drown your sorrow. The lyrics were often half-mumbled as his soulmate was still trying to write them, but after another week had passed, Hanzo heard the complete song for the first time.

It talked about silence, how lonely it felt and how they tried to forget it, how they sang to fill in the gaps. But what touched Hanzo the most was the ending.

When I found out after, That sounds could not reach me, Then I realized that maybe, Your silence wasn’t meant to hurt me.

Hanzo felt tears gather at the corner of his eyes -they understood. When they had partially lost their hearing, they had realized. And they composed a song for him about it.

During the following month, Hanzo heard that song a lot. He briefly wondered if his soulmate had recorded it, because most of the time it had exactly the same intonations and tempo, while it tended to be more relaxed and less controlled in the evenings.

Hanzo very rarely had things made for him when he was younger. Sure, his family learned sign language and bought him presents, but no one had ever crafted something just for him. He never had friends outside of the family and didn’t go to school, so he never even got chocolate for Valentine’s day like Genji did.

Having something as precious as a song gifted to him was so inspiring that he painted an entire polyptych of five canvases based on the song. They were the first and only pieces he refused to exhibit or sell, setting them up in his bedroom so that they would be the first and last things he saw every day.

As months passed, his soulmate composed more songs and Hanzo painted more pieces. He became so famous that a museum contacted him to ask if they could organize an exhibition of his works. It took some convincing from Genji, but eventually Hanzo accepted.

When he contacted them, they decided on a date and asked Hanzo if he could come to their city for the grand opening. It took some more convincing, but he eventually agreed. He had never gone very far from San Francisco and never left Hanamura when he still lived there; maybe a trip to a distant city would do him good.

All things considered, the city was nice. It was noisy and polluted, but lacked the chilly wind of San Francisco and the fake traditional look of Hanamura. It was like most US cities Hanzo had seen in photographs, with huge skyscrapers, geometric streets, and big squares.

He wasn’t particularly awed nor disappointed by the city, but they had some pretty interesting museums he wanted to check out. After meeting up with the organizers of his exhibit, he was given a free pass that was good for public transportation and entry to many museums. They informed him that some of his art pieces hadn’t arrived yet but should be there in time for the opening a week later, and asked him if he wanted to take a look and move any pieces around.

After spending a couple of hours in the aisle hosting his exhibit, Hanzo was invited to check out the rest of the museum. One of the organizers stayed with him, talking animatedly about their impressive collection from all over the world. More than once, Hanzo had to ask them to slow down and repeat themselves, but he didn’t mind the company. It was always nice to meet passionate people.

They explained that this particular museum had a big collaboration going with the local music academy, allowing students and teachers to study and handle the museum's collection of musical instruments from various historical eras and cultures, encouraging them to think outside the box. Once a month, a music teacher came to play in the halls so that museum visitors could hear how various instruments sounded and see how they were played. At the end of their visit, the organizer asked Hanzo if he would mind having a little concert at the end of the opening day. A newly-popular singer was in town, having just finished touring.

Hanzo had no reason to refuse; he had never been to a concert and likely would never go to one if not for this opportunity. He assured the organizer that he would be able to enjoy it as long as he was able to feel the vibrations, and that it would be all good as long as they reserved a private spot for him away from the crowd. They thanked him with a big smile and bid him farewell, telling him to enjoy the city before the opening day.

So he did just that, visiting the city’s zoo and many museums, even bringing Genji to one that was dedicated to superheroes around the world. He also ventured out a couple of times to enjoy the local nightlife.

The day before the event, Hanzo went to the laundromat down the street from their hotel. He liked to do his own laundry with his own detergent. The one used by the servants at Shimada castle had always reminded him of his mother too much. Then he moved to America and there was no one else to do it for him anyway, except maybe Genji, but he wouldn’t trust anyone who used the words “laundry” and “Genji” in the same sentence.

They had only been there for a week, but he was amazed to find just how many outfits his younger brother had stained with sweat, drinks, and sauces as he started to separate the bright colors from the light and dark ones, making three neat piles on a bench. He looked around the place, confirming that it was empty before he started humming his soulmate’s latest song to himself. It was one of Hanzo’s favorites even though it didn’t have lyrics yet. It was an upbeat and innocent tune, like a child talking about their crush.

He was unscrewing his bottle of detergent when someone grabbed his arm, almost making him drop it to the floor. He turned and glared at whoever almost made him spill his perfectly fine and expensive bottle only to be met with an equally angry face. The man who had interrupted him said something, but Hanzo was too surprised to really pay attention -what right had this man to shout at him? If anything, he should be the one shouting!

“I do not understand why you are angry at me,” Hanzo said slowly, a hand on his temple to help him speak. “I wasn’t the one rudely interrupting your laundry time.”

The man answered and this time Hanzo tried to follow what he was saying, but the words were spoken too quickly for him to catch, on top of what seemed to be an accent distorting the motion of his lips. Great.

“Could you articulate? I cannot understand a word you are saying.”

The man puffed up like an angry bird, his brows furrowing further. He started talking again and Hanzo tried really hard to focus on his lips, but despite his best efforts, he still couldn’t make out half the words. Something...play dumb...something? Hanzo frowned, did he sound condescending? He leaned back to look at the man’s face, ready to apologize and explain, only to find that the other’s frown was gone, replaced by huge, surprised eyes.

Hanzo took the time to look at the stranger in an attempt to finally understand what was going on. The man had big brown eyes framed by thick eyebrows, and hair so long it would have fallen into his eyes if he hadn’t worn a hat. A cowboy hat of all things; he must be from the desert, then.

Hanzo watched as the man’s full lips shaped into a big, round “Oh.” He must have finally understood that Hanzo was deaf, good. Then why did his expression turn so hopeful? The man then inhaled through his mouth, pursed his lips, and stood there expectantly.

Hanzo heard humming.

As much as he loved his soulmate’s songs, now wasn’t really the moment; he didn’t know what this man wanted with him and the music distracting him wouldn’t help. But then the man started swaying, and as he opened his mouth to take another breath, Hanzo’s eyes went wide.

The man before him was totally in sync with the humming in his head.

Hanzo watched, mesmerized as the stranger did it again and, without thinking, he laid a hand on the man’s chest to feel the vibrations. His soulmate let out a breathy laugh and sang the lyrics softly. For the first time in his life, Hanzo could hear what he was reading on the lips of another human being.

When I found out after, That sounds could not reach me, Then I realized that maybe, Your silence wasn’t meant to hurt me.

His soulmate smiled warmly at him and pointed at his ear, where Hanzo could see a small transparent device. He could already feel the tears spilling all over his cheeks as he choked out a weak, “I know.”

Hanzo felt his soulmate slowly drawing him in for a hug and rubbing soothing circles on his shoulder blades. He held onto him tightly, trying -and failing- to stop staining the man’s plaid shirt with tears. The humming picked back up and Hanzo found himself so comfortable he never wanted this moment to end.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours until the man gently pushed Hanzo away and cupped his cheek, carefully articulating.

“You ok?”

Hanzo wiped his eyes with his palm and nodded with a smile. He didn’t trust himself to speak through the emotional train wreck this meeting turned out to be.

“May I take you out for coffee?”

Hanzo’s smile grew bigger and he nodded again before taking his phone out, opening a new notes sheet and typing, “I don’t think I can focus enough to speak rn, do you know sign language?” He pointed his phone towards his soulmate so he could read the message.

The man looked up from the phone. “Not enough to have a conversation, but I can give you my number.”

Hanzo nodded and opened up his contact information, turning his phone towards his soulmate again. The man entered the number into his own phone, a big smile splitting his face in two. A few seconds later, Hanzo received a text from an unknown number saying, “Hanzo, huh? That’s a pretty name. Mine’s Jesse :)”

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Jesse. I would love to get coffee once I am done cleaning all these shirts,” he typed, hit send and then gestured at the two remaining piles of dirty laundry he came to wash.

Jesse chuckled and nodded, pointing at his own pile of clothes before typing his answer. “Fortunately, I have some cleaning to do myself. How about I keep you company?”

When Hanzo came back to the hotel at the end of the day, Genji immediately jumped on him, asking him what took so long. He grinned, lifted his chin and signed, “I may or may not have met an amazing man whose name is Jesse McCree.”

“Jesse McCree… The singer?” Genji signed and then stopped, his mouth slowly forming a perfect, round O. “HOOOOOOLY SHIT!!! IS YOUR SOULMATE JESSE MCCREE???!” He probably shouted, signing along with his words. “Hanzo, that’s amazing! They were talking about him on TV just yesterday!!”

“They also talked about me on TV,” he pouted.

“Hanzo, please. They only mentioned you once in passing because of the exhibit. This guy just finished a tour on the West Coast!” Genji slid a hand through his hair, the movement of his shoulders indicating a sigh. “I cannot believe your soulmate is a popular singer, I always thought you’d end up with one of those hobos who thinks they're cool because they wear dreadlocks and walk barefoot.”

“Wow, thanks, Genji,” Hanzo signed, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “I never thought your soulmate would be a disappointment, but I am starting to believe they could very well be an old uni teacher.”

“Now you’re just being mean.”

Hanzo crossed his arms and raised a brow, his face the perfect picture of “Oh, really?”

“Alright, I deserved it. Now tell me! How did you meet? How was he? Does he really dress like that unironically?”

“I will tell you everything, but dinner first, if you don’t mind.”

The next day, Genji insisted on being there for the grand opening of Hanzo’s exhibit, bragging to every single person he met that he had been the first one in their family to believe his brother had a real talent for art, making Hanzo’s eyes roll.

A few people recognized him and stopped to chat, with Genji helping translate when they spoke too fast. It was nice to hear which paintings they liked most, or which technique they preferred. A lot of them were art students, and a few others were hearing-impaired or deaf. He was surprised when an old Japanese man stopped by to tell him that he had been following Hanzo’s career ever since he won his first artistic contest in Hanamura.

He told Hanzo that he had been a member of the jury, and that he hadn’t known he was a Shimada until he showed up to claim his prize flanked by four bodyguards. He also told him how relieved he had been when he saw Hanzo’s huge smile and his brother loudly clapping to congratulate him, that he thought they were good kids then.

When the old man excused himself so that he could continue looking at the pieces displayed, Hanzo gave his most respectful bow and thanked him for taking the time to come over and chat. In the corner of his eye, he saw Genji do the same.

Around lunch time, Hanzo felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He fished it out and let a happy sigh escape him when he saw a text from Jesse.

“Hey! Organizers said I need to be there around 3pm, wanna grab lunch in the area? :)”

“Sure, do you have a place in mind? We’ll join you there.”

“We? You are full of secrets, Mister Shimada ✨” Hanzo laughed and had already started replying when a new text arrived. “How does Bacon Bros. Diner sound? It’s on 5th”

“What kind of name is that? :’) I can’t stop laughing, people are looking at me.”

“Just two bros having dinner. 5 feet apart because they’re not gay :^D”

“Except we’re gay”

“We’ll just have to eat only one foot apart then!”

Hanzo snickered and quickly typed his answer. “Perfect, meet you there in 15 minutes?”

“Sounds good to me! Can’t wait to see you again ♥”

Genji was almost more excited about the lunch date than Hanzo. When confronted about it, he pretended it was because he wanted to meet someone famous, but Hanzo knew him too well to believe that. Genji wasn’t exactly what he would call a “fan” of Jesse’s songs, being more into kpop, and Hanzo knew his brother had met his share of famous people back in Hanamura.

Lunch went well. Jesse and Genji got along pretty well despite a few embarrassing questions about each other’s fashion choices, and soon they were walking back towards the museum. A few people stopped them on the street, asking if they could take a picture with Jesse. A couple of them also inquired about Hanzo and Genji, but Jesse just put a finger to his lips and said it was a secret they could find hints about at the museum.

They arrived an hour and a half before Jesse had to be present for the last adjustments, so Hanzo invited him to check out the exhibition. The first pieces were sketches and studies from when he was a child. He explained that back when Genji didn’t know sign language very well, he found it easier to express himself through art, and that it was also an entertaining way to pass the time. In turn, Jesse told him a bit about his own childhood and how his mom always told him that music was important because it was his only link with his soulmate. He joked about not being very good at anything besides singing, and Hanzo assured him that he would be the judge of that.

Then they moved on to the paintings he did when he’d thought it would be nice if, when he met his soulmate, he could have something to give them the same way they gave him their comforting music. Jesse put a hand over his heart then and mimed being struck by Cupid, but Hanzo could tell he was genuinely touched.

As they kept walking through the exhibition, the pieces grew colder. Hanzo explained that he painted them around the time Jesse stopped playing the guitar -he was so happy he could finally give a name to that instrument- and sang his sad acapellas. Jesse explained that he stopped playing after his mother died, and that he got into trouble a lot in those days. He didn’t go into much detail, but it was clear Jesse was ashamed of that time period. It was okay though, they would have a lot of time to talk about it after they knew each other better.

Soon, they reached the warm sunsets and soft ambiance paintings Hanzo did when he started having his work exhibited in Japan. He turned to Jesse expectantly and the man explained that after a lot of trouble, one man saw potential in him and plucked his sorry ass out of the desert dirt. It wasn’t quite the freedom he craved, but things were getting better for him. The man who saw potential in him found out he could play the guitar and encouraged him to pick it back up. Hanzo also learned that around that time Jesse joined the army.

“I just didn’t wanna be no trouble to him, especially after all he did for me. I never finished school so there wasn’t much else I could do anyway,” he said sheepishly.

Hanzo hummed, probably too loudly. “I can relate to that.”

They walked into another room then, and Jesse froze only a few steps in. The room displayed all of Hanzo’s misty and darker paintings. They were a testament to his mastery in his field, but they all held an engulfing sadness that always made him shiver. He looked up at Jesse’s face, the perfect picture of shock and hurt. Hanzo’s eyes were fixed on the man next to him, who touched the tiny transparent device in his ear.

“Are those-”

“From when I noticed the music was becoming weaker? Yes.”

They didn’t linger in that room for long, too many dark memories for the both of them. Again, there would be time for that later.

They exited into a hall displaying the few pieces Hanzo drew when he moved to San Francisco. He told Jesse that Genji was the one to insist they move to America, and that those were hard times for him but the distance between himself and the rest of his family had done him good. He talked about how he started to teach sign language for a living and how he managed to get his life back in order.

He stopped in front of the last painting. “I thought you were dead,” he said.

“I’m sorry, Hanzo, I didn’t want this. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know.” He smiled before facing Jesse. “The day I finally heard you again, I was in the middle of a class. My students were practicing and I was watching over them like I always do. At some point, I noticed that a few of them had stopped conversing and were looking at me. They said I was humming.”

When Hanzo noticed the tears gathering at the corner of Jesse’s eyes, he gave him a side hug and patted his back. He felt the other lean into him so he kept his arm wrapped around Jesse as they walked all the way to the last room.

It was by far the largest of the entire exhibit, showcasing big polyptychs with bright colors. Hanzo stopped in front of each piece inspired by one of Jesse’s songs and tried to explain which song it belonged to. At one point, he tried to hum the melody instead but since Jesse was right next to him, he could hear himself and it just freaked him out too much.

“One more thing we’ll have time to work on,” Jesse joked, turning towards the next painting. “I was touched when you told me the paintings were based on the music you could hear from me, but these,” he paused, his shoulders moving along with a deep breath, “these are based on things I created. The songs I compose are mighty personal and I have no words to tell you how touched I am.”

“Did you notice? The set of paintings I made for the first song you composed for me are not in this room.”

Jesse paused and looked around, then back at Hanzo. “Where are they, then? Is there some kind of secret room we missed?”

Hanzo smirked. “Come over to my house in San Francisco and I will gladly show them to you. They are way too precious for me to trust anyone touching them.”

Jesse took off his hat and placed it over his heart, looking Hanzo straight in the eyes. “I think my heart just stopped.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon by an improvised stage outside. Jesse explained a few music things to Hanzo and showed him around behind the scenes. At one point, he convinced Hanzo to try playing the guitar. It was awful, his big fingers stumbling over unfamiliar chords. He didn’t know whether he was more frustrated or exhilarated that he was able to hear every single one of his mistakes.

About an hour before the concert, Hanzo was called to his VIP spot where the organizers had left a small bench with a sandwich and a water bottle for him. He was soon joined by Genji who had bought a bag of muffins for the two of them. Of course, his little brother asked to know every single detail of his and Jesse’s “date,” which Hanzo was all too happy to talk about.

A few minutes before the show, Genji joined the crowd, proclaiming that concerts were only good when you could smell everyone’s armpits and feel all those sweaty bodies pressed close to the stage. When Hanzo remarked that it sounded pretty gross, Genji shrugged and signed, “It’s half the charm,” with a toothy grin.

When Jesse arrived on stage and all the people started waving their arms, Hanzo moved his bench to get a little closer. He could see Jesse approach the microphone while clumsily signing, “Tonight is special. The man who paint are in this museum is deaf. I question his brother to sign along the lyrics of my songs.” Hanzo’s eyes widened as Genji jumped on stage and bowed, taking the signing over.

It had always been something to hear Jesse sing inside his head, but it was something entirely different to experience it live. Hanzo had a blast, not only listening to the music but also feeling the vibrations of it, making him feel like he was melting into the music, like he was part of the songs.

After the last song, Jesse leaned in to the microphone again and Hanzo looked to Genji for translation.

“I hope you had a blast tonight because I dedicate this concert to my soulmate, whose paintings are exhibited in this museum starting today!” Both the man on stage and the people in the crowd turned towards him. “Hanzo, darling, I am proud to be your soulmate,” Jesse signed as he spoke.

Hanzo rushed up and jumped onto the stage as fast as he could, throwing himself into Jesse’s arms. Their first kiss was captured by hundreds of cameras as they held each other on stage, but they didn’t care. They were finally united, happy.

[arituzz]

Famous Last Words 3

http://arituzz.tumblr.com/post/170922630138/famous-last-words-4-SNOWBAZ-

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

Summary: When your family was a wreck and your perfect girlfriend just left you for your irritating classmate, the only way to carry on was to make a truce with the enemy, right?

OR

High school AU in which Simon and Baz pretend to be boyfriends to save Simon’s love life.

Chapter word count: 5.2k

Rating: T

Tags: High School AU, fake boyfriends, mutual pining, fluff, a little bit of angst (later on), music, theater, rock band

Also on AO3

Thanks to @velvetnoodle for being my amazing beta :)

Cherry and Scone had been Simon’s only friends until Penny came along. He told them everything. Simon was fully aware they were just cats, so they didn’t understand what Simon was saying, but he also knew that they could understand his feelings; they were always there for him when he was sick or sad.

Simon had taken them in from the streets when he was ten years old. He took pity of them and decided to hide the kittens in his room. Eventually, Davy found out about them and tried to kick them out on many occasions. But they always came back to Simon.

“Baz kissed me,” he told them. Cherry looked at him and meowed. “Yeah, yeah, I know he only did it because Ebb was standing behind me.” Simon brought his finger to his lips “He kissed me…” It was now Scone who looked at Simon as if accusing him. “Don’t look at me like that! I know he isn’t my real boyfriend. I don’t want him to be.” Cherry yawned and left for the dining room. Scone started licking his brown fur. “Okay, fine, I’ll shut up,” he said, picking Scone up and going to his room. “But, for the record, I’m not obsessed. And I didn’t like it.”

Simon tried to sleep. He really did try. But all he managed to do was: Toss and turn in bed for thirty minutes, get some midnight snacks, roam some more, annoy the cats, zap through the many TV channels—no, seriously, so many; but sadly, quantity and quality were often indirectly proportional and Simon always ended up watching the Nature channel. But today he couldn’t even enjoy the Nature channel. He couldn’t stop thinking about how the following day would go. If Baz would kiss him again…

He walked out of the sofa and decided to go to the school roof. At least there he could see the stars.

xxx

Simon knew that the trip to Watford would take him half an hour. He also knew that it would be dark in the streets, and that the autumn weather wouldn’t be gentle. Another thing he knew was that he would have to climb the entrance in order to get in. What Simon didn’t know was what he’d find once he was there. Or rather, who.

There was Baz, leaning against the wall. It was not his usual, smugly, casual Baz Lean that he pulled off to pretend he didn’t care about anything. It was quite the opposite. The back of his head was resting on the wall with his right arm up above his forehead, his face tilted upwards. His eyes were closed and his chest moved up and down as he breathed. It almost looked like he was crying. A cigarette was consuming itself between his fingers. 

“Baz?”

Baz took a deep breath before opening his eyes. “Snow,” he said, and tossed the remnants of the cigarette on the floor. He quickly shifted from his position to a full-on Baz Lean — arms and legs crossed, shit-eating grin. “Have you been following me again?”

“What? No!” Simon protested. “I couldn’t sleep,” he confessed. Then he added, “Just like you.”

Baz arched his eyebrows. “What makes you think so?”

Simon didn’t know how he knew it. He just did. It was always like that with Baz. Simon shrugged.

Unexpectedly, a comfortable silence followed, in which Baz slid down, sitting on the ground, and Simon took the opportunity to look at the night sky. It was one of his favourite things about the roof. Sometimes, Simon liked to imagine he could fly and leave all his problems behind. Except, this time he didn’t really feel like escaping. Simon didn’t exactly understand why, but, right then, Baz felt more like a solution than a problem.

Simon looked back at Baz, who was staring straight into the distance, a blank look on his face. There was clearly something troubling him and Simon was determined to know what it was. “Twenty questions,” he said, like a revelation.

That seemed to bring Baz back to Earth. “What?”

“We could play twenty questions,” Simon explained. “You know, to get to know each other better. Since we’re boyfriends and all.”

“We are nothing,” Baz spat.

“I know. But we should know about each other if we’re going to pretend to be dating.” Simon sat on the floor beside Baz, leaning his shoulder against the wall.

“Fine,” Baz said after a long silence. “Let’s play your stupid game.” He took his packet of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and lit one.

Simon asked the first thing that came to his mind: “Why do you smoke?”

“I like it.”

“It’s gross. Stop it.”

“Because you tell me to?” Baz bitterly laughed.

“Well, yeah,” Simon said, matter-of-factly. “I don’t want to kiss an ashtray.”

“Fine,” Baz said, puffing out smoke. “Then I won’t kiss you anymore.”

“You know what?” said Simon, his fingers fidgeting in his hoodie pocket. Forget it…”

“What?” Baz smirked. “You want me to kiss you again?”

“No! I mean… Yes?” Simon said, playing with the palms of his hands. Baz never failed to make him nervous. Ever. “For the sake of our relationship.”

“Our fake relationship,” Baz supplied.

“Yeah.”

“Then you’ll have to bear with it,” Baz said, taking a puff on his cigarette. “The smoking.”

“Can’t you at least try?”

“Mind your own business, Snow,” he said. “Why do you work?”

“Huh?”

“It’s my turn asking,” Baz said. “I didn’t know your family had economic problems.”

“Well… Technically we don’t. But my dad encourages me to work,” Simon said, quoting his father. “He says that’ll sharpen my sword. Whatever that means,” he continued. “But it’s fine, I love working at the flower shop. Ebb is great. I think I want to be a florist, too,” Simon confessed. “Do you like flowers?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Just answer.”

“No,” Baz said, hurriedly. “Do you have a bad relationship with your father?”

“Yeah…” Simon said. And then, God knows why, he added, “We’re just very different people.” Simon didn’t know why he was opening up to Baz, of all people, but he kept talking, “Davy has great plans for me, and I just… I just want to be happy.”

Baz stood in silence for a moment. “It’s your turn, Snow,” he finally said.

“Right,” said Simon. “Where have you been?”

Baz didn’t answer.

“Baz?” Simon asked, more worried than impatient.

Baz pressed his fingertips into his forehead. “I’m too sober for this.”

“Baz…” Simon pried.

It wasn’t until after some minutes, that Baz looked back at Simon and said, “Do you promise me you won’t dig in if I tell you?”

“No,” Simon said. “You have to tell me, it’s how the game goes.”

Baz got up to leave. “Then fuck the game.”

“Baz! Wait,” Simon shouted after him. “I won’t ask any more questions,” he said. “I promise.”

Baz stopped on his tracks and turned to look at Simon. His eyes were piercing him. He let out a breath and then, very quietly, he said, “I was in jail.”

It took Simon a moment to process Baz’s words. Baz had been in jail. It took Simon the best of him not to ask why. Simon wondered if that was why he wanted his help. “It’s your turn,” he managed to say.

“I don’t want to play anymore,” Baz said. “Let’s go to sleep.”

“Okay,” Simon conceded. “Uhm… Can you drive me home?”

“Fine. But no questions.”

“No questions,” Simon reluctantly agreed.

They were silent for the rest of the trip home; except for Simon’s thoughts, that couldn’t be louder. His brain couldn’t stop providing possible scenarios for Baz’s incarceration: Drunk driving, drug possession, drug dealing, stealing…

“Snow.”

“Yeah?”

“Get out of the bloody car.”

Simon hadn’t realized they were parked before his house. “Oh. Right.”

Out of the blue, Baz said, “You should sleep through all morning.”

“I work at nine.”

“Then call and say you’re feeling sick.”

“No… I’ll be fine,” Simon said. “Why are you so worried about me?”

Baz tsked. “I’m not worried about you,” he said. “I don’t want to be the boyfriend of a zombie, that’s all.”

Simon looked at Baz’s eye-bags and guessed that one zombie in the relationship was enough. Although, Simon had always thought Baz was secretly a vampire. No human could be that fast on the pitch. Or that bloody good-looking. But he didn’t tell Baz. “Sure,” he said and went out of the car. “You should sleep, too.”

“Goodbye, Snow,” Baz said, starting the engine. Simon could barely close the door before Baz drove off.

xxx

Simon went to work without sleeping at all. Ebb insisted that he should go home and rest, but Simon was just fine. Sleepy, yes, but he could still work. There was no way he was going back home. (Simon would rather slip into a coma than miss a day of work.)

Plus, it was Saturday, which meant flower deliveries. Simon fucking loved flower deliveries. Not only because he got to drive a scooter, but also because he loved the way people’s faces lit up when receiving flowers. It was one of the greatest feelings ever.

Time passed quickly, the way it always did when Simon was working–when he was happy–and soon it was noon and his thoughts about Baz and the date they were supposed to be having that day made their way back to the top of Simon’s head.

If they weren’t really dating, did they have to go through the trouble of going on dates? Did Baz just say it because Dev and Niall were there? That would make sense. But… he also said he’d come, when none of his friends were around. That made less sense.

Soon enough, Simon stopped obsessing over Baz and The Date and started panicking instead. It was almost four in the afternoon and he hadn’t even changed. Not because he hadn’t tried, though. He’d spent the last half hour rummaging through his wardrobe, but everything was useless. Suddenly, it felt like he didn’t have any clothes at all. At least, none that were good enough to impress Baz.

Then, a thought smacked him: Why was he trying to impress Baz?

But before he could get the answer, the doorbell rang.

Simon looked at his phone. It was four o’clock sharp. Shit. Simon sighed, slipped into the first shirt and pair of jeans he saw, hoping it wouldn’t be too terrible, and went for the door.

“Hey,” he tried to say but his voice faltered. Because, holy fuck: Baz was all dressed up and holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand — red carnations, which in flower language meant “my heart aches for you.” (Not that Baz knew, of course.) (In Baz language it probably meant something along the lines of  “I really despise you but, since I am so cool, I bought you roses. Or whatever these are.” )

Baz wasn’t in a suit, but close. He was wearing a black, fitted blazer, dark jeans—not shredded!—a silk plaid shirt, and a pair of shoes that were probably made in Italy.

Baz looked at Simon from top to bottom in a disgusted face. “Seriously?” he said.

“What?” Simon asked, and then he realized Baz was looking at Simon’s clothes. Oh. “What’s wrong with my clothes?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Baz cocked an eyebrow. “Everything?”

“Should I go change?”

Baz hesitated and pursed his lips in an awkward face, avoiding Simon’s stare. “No,” he said. Simon had seen that face before — Baz was probably blushing. “We’ll be late for the movie.”

“Okay,” Simon shrugged. “Let me put these in water,” he said, taking the flowers. “And, uhm. Thanks.”

xxx

They arrived at the theater with plenty of time to spare.

They discussed which movie they would watch, while they stood in queue. Baz wanted to watch a belic movie, Dunkirk or something, whereas Simon prefered a comedy. Or an animated movie.

“We’re not watching Cars 2,” Baz argued.

“Three,” Simon corrected. “Why not?”

Baz rolled his eyes. “I won’t. If you want to watch it, go by yourself.”

Fine. If Baz wasn’t ready to acknowledge that some animated films were brilliant, it wasn’t Simon’s fault. Whatever. “What about a horror one?” Simon suggested.

“No,” Baz said, almost too quickly and averting his eyes. “I’m not in the mood for a horror movie.”

Yeah. Sure. Right. Simon didn’t buy it, not even for a second. He was delighted to know that Baz I-put-a-lot-of-effort-into-having-a-scary-appearance Pitch was actually afraid of horror movies. Best thing he’d heard all day.

“Why are you grinning like an idiot?” asked Baz.

“Nothing,” Simon said, biting his lip.

“Stop it.”

Simon faked a stern face but only made it worse and had a laugh attack.

“Boys,” someone brought their attention. It was the girl in the ticket window. “Less flirting, more choosing,” she said. “I don’t have all day.”

“Two tickets for Wonder Woman,” said Baz. “Please.”

They entered the theater room a couple of minutes late because Simon wanted to buy popcorn and candy bars. Who the hell doesn’t? thought Simon. Baz was annoyed because he missed the movie teasers, one of the best things about going to the theater, he said. Simon wondered from what fucking planet he’d come. Probably one far from the Solar System, like Kepler-22b. Or Qo’noS.

It turned out, Wonder Woman was the best freaking movie ever. Simon didn’t really like Superhero movies that much, but this one was different. Plus, Diana was fucking cute.

When the movie ended, Baz didn’t say anything, he just smirked at Simon.

If Baz weren’t evil, he’d be bloody perfect, too. Actually, Baz would make a pretty competent superhero, Simon thought. And so he told him.

“Are you shitting me, Snow?” asked Baz.

“What? No,” said Simon. “Why?”

“Are you saying that, among the two of us, I would make a good superhero?”

“If you weren’t evil.”

Baz smirked. “Everyone knows you’d be the chosen one, Snow.”

“What do you mean?” Simon asked.

“Are you honestly telling me you don’t see your fucking giant hero complex?”

“My what?”

“You like to take sacrifices for the rest,” Baz explained. “So everyone can go behind you, licking your bloody arse.”

“It’s called being nice,” argued Simon. “You should try it sometime.”

Baz simply said, “You’d be the Chosen One.”

“I’m not Chosen One material,” Simon protested. “I’m not special.”

Baz swallowed, frowning at Simon. “You’d be the worst Chosen One that’s ever been chosen.”

Yeah, there he was right. “And you’d be the broody villain, making everyone unhappy because of how deeply misunderstood he was.”

Baz looked like he was about to deny it but he was cut off by a member of the theater staff, asking them to leave the room so they could clean. Apparently, they’d been talking for some time after the movie ended.

xxx

They decided to go to the Wavering Café by foot, since it was only a five minute walk away.

They were arguing about something stupid when Baz grabbed Simon’s hand and pulled him into an alley.

Two thoughts immediately crossed Simon’s mind: Baz was going to beat him up; or, Baz was going to snog him senseless. That’s what always happened in movies and fanfiction.

But he did neither. Thankfully. Baz was looking carefully at the main street, as if he didn’t want someone to see him. Then it clicked for Simon: They were hiding.

Simon tempted a look at the street and recognized a woman, Baz’s aunt Fiona. “Why are we hiding from your aunt?”

“She may or may not think I have a date,” Baz explained.

“Why would she think that?” asked Simon.

Baz looked at him as if he was utterly stupid. “Because I told her?”

“Then why are we hiding?”

“I didn’t tell her the date was with you,” Baz said. “She doesn’t like you.”

Simon was well aware Baz’s family hated him and his father, but he couldn’t care less — the feeling was mutual. Plus, Baz’s dad was a dentist, and Simon didn’t trust dentists. (The electric chair was invented by a dentist.)

And despite all his makeup and all the effort he put into looking like a bad boy, Baz was kind of cute right now. He was just a boy, hiding from his aunt. Simon thought he liked Baz like that, when he forgot to be evil. It almost didn’t feel like a fake date.

But yeah, no. Baz was the enemy. And the fact that they were still holding hands didn’t make it any easier to hate him.

“Okay, she’s gone,” he said. “We can go.”

Baz let go of Simon’s hand and they resumed their way to the Wavering Café.

xxx

As Simon had expected, Agatha was working today. Simon knew she liked her work way more than she liked Watford. Agatha was a good student, she also did ballet and was in the school chorus, but only in the Wavering Café did she look like she was in her place.

Mindy was working today, too.

Baz supported his arm against the bar counter and looked at Simon. “What do you want, love?” he asked.

“Uh… I…” Simon was suddenly nervous. “Tea, please,” he said to Mindy. “And cherry scones.”

Baz said, “Pumpkin mocha breve for me.”

“Pumpkin what?” Mindy asked.

Baz explained Mindy how to prepare his ridiculous beverage while Simon made an apologetic face to her.

“Thanks, Mindy,” Simon said when she gave them what they ordered.

They settled on a nearby table, just the right distance from Agatha that it didn’t seem too deliberate.

“Did you know that a snail can sleep for three years?”

Baz looked at Simon over his cup. “Why the fuck would I know that?”

Simon shrugged. “Just trying to make conversation,” he said, stuffing a scone into his mouth. Then, he pointed at Baz’s cup and asked, “Is that good?”

“Try it,” Baz said, handing the cup to Simon.

It was the second time he had offered Simon an indirect kiss. Of course Baz wouldn’t think of that as much as Simon did… He probably didn’t think about it at all.

Simon took the cup, his fingers brushing Baz’s and took a sip. “It’s too sweet,” he concluded, and gave the drink back to Baz.

Baz snorted. “Says the one who’s just eaten his weight in sweets.”

“Yeah, eaten,” said Simon. “Drinking is different.”

Baz turned out to be a pretty decent company, when he wasn’t trying to make Simon’s life miserable. They talked about their schedules, even though Simon already knew exactly when and where Baz dedicated his spare time. (Except for the band thing.) (And the being in jail thing.)

“What a mess,” Baz said all of a sudden, with a displeased look. Seeing that Simon didn’t understand, he elaborated, “Your shirt.”

Simon looked at his white shirt. Except it wasn’t white anymore. Eating the scones had led to accidentally staining the shirt, which was now of a reddish colour. “Yeah… S’okay,” said Simon.

Baz arched an eyebrow. “It’s not?”

“It’s an old shirt anyway… Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not fucking worried about that, you idiot.” Baz lowered his voice because some people were looking at them, Agatha included. Then, he put his hand over Simon’s on the table, intertwining their  fingers. “I’m worried because now everybody will see me, and you, like this,” he said, gesturing towards Simon’s shirt. “They will all know you don’t care.”

“Care about what?”

“About me.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry,” Simon said. “When does the gig start?”

“At ten, why?”

“We can go to my place before it starts, so I can change,” said Simon. And then he added, “I can also make sandwiches if you want.”

“Alright.”

“Will you perform like that?” Simon asked Baz.

“No,” he replied. “I have spare clothes in the car.”

“Oh. Okay.”

xxx

The first and only person Simon had brought home was Penny. Although they both prefered to hang out at hers, she often visited him and helped him with his homework before settling on the sofa and marathoning Doctor Who. Penny was used to Simon’s mess of a room and even though she didn’t like Davy, they tolerated each other.

With Baz, it was a whole new experience. It was like he himself was seeing the house for the first time, noticing everything that was wrong with it: the awkwardness of the decoration, the severe lack of family pictures… His eyes localized every speck of dirt, every little imperfection and maximized it ten times.

“Sorry for the mess,” was all Simon could say. Baz didn’t say anything but, knowing him, Simon was sure he was regurgitating inside.

Cherry and Scone abandoned their place on the sofa–they fucking knew how much Davy hated them sleeping on his cross-stitched pillows, Simon couldn’t be more proud of them—and came to say hi to Simon.

When they saw Baz, the cats started rubbing against him—of course they did, cats went to negative energy, and Baz was a giant focus of it. He was like the Santa Claus of negativity, delivering it indiscriminately. Negativity for everyone. Simon was almost 100% sure that was Baz’s life motto.

Baz looked like he was constipated.

“Wait. You’re not allergic to cats, are you?” asked Simon.

“No. I’m not,” he said it like it was a bad thing. “My jeans are ruined.”

Fucking hell, no. Baz wasn’t allergic to cats. He was allergic to happiness.

“Your bathroom,” Baz said. “Can I use it?”

“Sure,” said Simon, shrugging.

Baz waited.

“Oh. It’s down the corridor,” Simon explained. “I’ll be in my room,” he said, gesturing towards his room door.

Baz nodded and went for the toilet.

Simon fed the cats and went to his room. He yanked off his shirt and threw it on the dirty clothes pile, aka the floor. He opened his wardrobe again and had this feeling of deja vu. What was the clothing etiquette for attending your fake boyfriend’s gig?

Simon had never been to a concert. Not because he didn’t like music, he loved music. But he prefered the theater over the club.

He decided to consult the oracle, which was normally Penny or, in her absence, google. Simon grabbed his phone and typed ‘appropriate clothes to wear to a satanic band concert.’

Dark clothes, apparently. Was he supposed to wear makeup, too? Simon looked at his clothes. There were many white shirts: Red shirts, yellow shirts, orange shirts, a couple of blue shirts, a grey shirt—with green letters that read Everyone deserves a chance to fly from Wicked, that Penny had given him last Christmas—and one single dark shirt with a glow-in-the-dark TARDIS on it.

“I couldn’t find your–” Baz started as he entered the room. Simon turned around and caught his eye. Baz looked away, swallowing. “Hand soap.”

“Davy doesn’t let me buy it,” Simon explained. “Says it’s harmful for my skin. We have hand sanitizer…”

Simon suddenly felt self-conscious and exposed so he grabbed the Doctor Who shirt and put it on.

Baz was looking intently at the room walls — they were filled with Simon’s drawings. Mostly portraits of Cherry and Scone, some of Penny and Agatha, and also some weird surreal stuff that came to his mind. (Dragons, vampires, magic…)

Baz shifted his gaze to Simon’s shirt. “No way,” he said. “You’re not wearing that to my concert.”

“Why not?”

Then Baz said, very carefully, making a full stop after every word, “My boyfriend is not going to wear a fucking Doctor Who shirt to my fucking gig.”

“Uhm. Then you choose,” Simon told him, gesturing towards his wardrobe.

Baz sighed. “I’ll just give you one of the band.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I’ll be right back.”

Meanwhile, Simon went to the kitchen and prepared the sandwiches.

Baz came back completely changed: he was still wearing jeans, but these were black and shredded, and he wore a black T-shirt that read THE INSIDIOUS HUMDRUM in blood red decorative letters, and a red skull with a pair of drums instead of bones. He handed Simon another one. “Large, right?”

“What?”

“Your size.”

“Oh,” Simon realized. Everyone always guessed he used a medium size but Simon’s shoulders were actually too broad, so he had to take a larger size. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Simon took the shirt and put it aside for later, he didn’t want to ruin it while eating the sandwiches.

xxx

They were almost late for Baz’s gig at the World of Mages. And, surprisingly, Baz wasn’t too grumpy about it. Although it wasn’t entirely Simon’s fault—they both had forgotten to look at the clock—Simon expected Baz to blame him anyway. But he didn’t. And it was not like Baz to miss the opportunity to practice his favourite sport: complaining about Simon.

Baz left Simon on the entrance and went to the backstage without saying a word.

“Simon!” His thoughts were halted by Penny’s arms around him. She loved to hug him. “Oh my God, you’re wearing a band shirt! Wait, are you wearing makeup?”

“Just eyeliner.” Simon shrugged. “Baz insisted.”

“Look who’s there,” said Penny, visibly annoyed, pointing towards the other side of the room where Rhys, Gareth, and Trixie were.

“Great!” Simon said, excited. “The guys came too.” He wasn’t sure they’d come, he knew Rhys didn’t like pubs. (Mostly because pubs didn’t like Rhys, either, since many of them weren’t exactly wheelchair friendly.)

“No,” Penny said. “Trixie. Did you invite her, too?”

“Uh… I don’t think so?” Simon didn’t bother to tell her that the Penny-Trixie rivalry was ridiculous and completely one-sided, he had already tried many times before, unsuccessfully. Penny and Trixie were deskmates, like Simon and Baz, but all Penny could complain about was Trixie’s girlfriend, Keris, sometimes occupying her seat. At least her deskmate wasn’t an evil ex-con who tried to bring her downfall.

Besides, Simon liked Trixie. She was with him in drama class and it was fun. She was a bit manic, but she was nice.

A few minutes afterwards the lights of the club went out and someone started playing the drums. A few people whistled in excitement. Then, the stage came to life as the rest of the band started playing, too, illuminated by a couple of light focus: Niall at the bass, Dev at the drums, Baz at the guitar. Simon could feel his heart on his throat. It was an incredible sensation, actually.

A girl came into the stage and started singing. Keris.

“Guess that explains the Trixie thing,” Simon whispered into Penny’s ear. She just harrumphed.

Penny and Simon went to the front with Gareth, Rhys, and Trixie.

For some reason, Simon couldn’t look away from Baz. He couldn’t stop watching how his slim dark fingers danced along each string. He couldn’t help notice how he closed his eyes and bit his lower lip. He also sang the chorus alongside Niall.

They played a few songs Simon hadn’t heard before and then one caught his attention.

I’m strong on the surface… Not all the way through.

Baz was singing it, not just the chorus. Simon knew what song it was because he’d listened to it many times in Baz’s car. It was “Leave Out All The Rest”, by Linkin Park. Simon liked that song. He loved it, actually. And hearing it played by Baz—and sung!—was… otherworldly.

Baz’s voice was raspy and deep, which kind of contradicted another adjective that came to Simon’s head: Sweet.

After the concert, the band reunited with the rest and Simon didn’t know why he did it but he went to Baz and hugged him. Baz stiffened under his touch but Simon felt his cold hands grazing his back.

For the record, if Baz asked, he’d hugged him to keep the appearances.

“That was amazing,” Simon said, pulling away. “Honestly, wow.”

They stayed for a while before everyone went separate ways.

xxx

Simon didn’t remember how he’d got to his bed.

The last thing he remembered was dozing off in Baz’s car. He was so tired.

He decided it didn’t matter, and went to the kitchen to prepare himself breakfast. It was already midday, but it was also Sunday and that gave him the liberty to follow his own meal timetable, which was: Breakfast at noon, lunch sometime in the afternoon, dinner at 10ish, all kinds of snacks in-between.

Simon stepped into the kitchen, almost missing Davy eating spaghetti on the small table.

“Simon,” he said with his mouth full. “Sorry, I finished all the pasta. I think there’s a couple of eggs or something in the fridge.”

“Don’t worry,” said Simon, even though he knew Davy didn’t really worry. “I’ll go buy something later.”

“Good, great,” said his father. “We need after-shave, too. Can you buy it?”

By we Davy meant I, because Simon didn’t even grow a beard yet. “Sure,” he said, and went to prepare himself a couple of toasts.

Simon took the butter from the fridge and put it on the table while the toasts were making. Davy added his empty plate to the pile of dirty dishes filling the sink and resumed reading his newspaper with a cup of coffee. Simon guessed he’d have to clean that later.

Almost overlapped, two thoughts—memories, rather—flashed through Simon’s mind. One: Baz’s face when he saw the dirty dishes pile. Two: Baz carrying him to his room.

Like, in his arms.

Just as Simon was absorbed by this new mental image, the bread popped up out of the toaster, making Simon step back. And his heart almost explode.

Davy seemed to notice Simon’s distress. “Are you alright, Simon?” he asked, without looking up from his newspaper.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Simon replied, recovering from the heart attack. Simon couldn’t see his own face but, judging from the surge of heat rushing through his cheeks, he was sure he could be easily mistaken with a tomato.

“How’s your girlfriend, Amanda?” his father asked.

“Agatha is fine.” Simon pondered what situation would piss Davy off most, given the improbable event that he was genuinely interested. He went with the truth. “We broke up.”

“Good, good.”

“I’m going out with Baz.”

“That’s great, Simon,” his father said, finishing his coffee.

“Basilton Pitch, you know?” Simon insisted.

“I have to go, Simon,” Davy said, standing up. “You tell me about your little quarrel with the Pitch boy later, okay?” He gave Simon a pat on the shoulder and left.

“Yeah…”

Simon took his lunch and brought it to his room.

Out of the gazillion things he wanted to ask Baz about the previous night—and the jail issue—he opted for just sending him a thank-you text. He typed:

thx for carrying me to my room

Simon dedicated the whole afternoon to some of his favourite activities: Drawing and listening to music. At the same time he realised what he was drawing—Baz and the band—a rather disturbing question plagued Simon’s mind. He grabbed his phone again and sent him:

WAIT did u undress me?

But Baz, who Simon was convinced had made a deal with Satan to make Simon’s life a living hell, didn’t reply until late in the night. All he said was:

You are welcome

[Chapter 4]

Rest In Peace Chester Bennington. You left so many reasons to be missed…♡

[thisdaynews]

Watch: Fifa Women's World Cup - Australia v Italy

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Watch: Fifa Women's World Cup - Australia v Italy

Australia v ItalyBBC Sport

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Summary

Fifa Women’s World Cup Group C

Australia changed coaches earlier this year, with Ante Milicic in charge for World Cup

Italy in first Women’s World Cup for 20 years

Ballon d’Or nominee Sam Kerr starts for Australia

Live Reporting

By Emma Sanders

All times stated are UK

Get involved

Send a text to81111 (charged at your standard message rate)

Twitter:Use the hashtag#bbcfootball

Facebook:BBC Sport

Posted at 11:0611:06

comments

Get Involved

#bbcfootball or text 81111 (UK only)

Niamh J:Men’s international break plus the Women’s World Cup with three matches a day! What more could you want to start off the summer?

6 mins

CLOSE!

Australia 0-0 Italy

This is end-to-end stuff. Italy use the space down the right to carve open the defence but Cristiana Girelli’s shot, from a tight angle in the box, is comfortably saved by Australian keeper Lydia Williams.

Posted at 11:0511:05

Post update

Australia 0-0 Italy

Tom Garry

BBC Sport at Stade du Hainaut, Valenciennes

The two ends behind the goals are both almost full now. The largest and most colourful cluster of Australia fans is up the top tier, above the corner flag that their right-back Ellie Carpenter is defending in this first half.

But it’s clear from the noise that went up when Sam Kerr went close just then that there are Aussies all around the stadium, and I think there are slightly more of them than there are Italians, despite having so much further to travel.

3 mins

CLOSE!

Australia 0-0 Italy

Oh but this time she wasn’t!

Sam Kerr gets a yard on Italy captain Sara Gama and it’s the same swinging ball in from the left which this time, she connects with cleanly.

Her header flies inches over the bar. Great start!

2 mins

Post update

Australia 0-0 Italy

Sam Kerr is purring. A sneaky run in behind almost puts her in but the swinging cross from the left bounces off the keeper, then off Kerr and over the crossbar.

She’s offside anyway though – by a mile.

Posted at 11:0211:02

comments

Get Involved

#bbcfootball or text 81111 (UK only)

Sy: Here we go, watching #AUSITA now! Come on you #AUS ladies!

2 mins

Post update

Australia 0-0 Italy

Route one stuff from Italy! A through ball completely carves through the Australian midfield and sets Ilaria Mauro on her way down the left wing.

She’s caught up and ends up giving away a free-kick for a bit of elbow nudging.

1 min

KICK-OFF

Australia 0-0 Italy

And we’re off! Predictions?

Posted at 10:5810:58

Italy ‘one of the game’s most improved teams’

Australia v Italy (12:00 BST)

Australia coach Ante Milicic, whose side are ranked nine places above Italy in the world rankings, said on Saturday: “We’re expecting a very difficult game.

“Italy are probably one of the most improved teams in women’s football.

“Individually they’re very strong and tactical they’re flexible. They’re strong on set-pieces so we fully respect our opposition. We’re going to have be at our best to get a result from the game.”

Posted at 10:5710:57

Post update

Australia v Italy (20:00 BST)

National anthem time. Italy centre-back Elena Linari is giving it everything. Full on, belting it out. Go on!

The Italian national anthem is up there with the French and German tunes.

BBC SportCopyright: BBC Sport

Posted at 10:5410:54

Post update

Australia v Italy (20:00 BST)

The atmosphere is really hotting up in Valenciennes. Sam Kerr shouts “right, lets go girls!” as the Australia team walk out onto the pitch.

Posted at 10:5410:54

Fun fact…

Australia v Italy (20:00 BST)

New Australia captain Sam Kerr made her debut against Italy way back in early 2009 aged just 15, becoming one of the country’s youngest internationals.

Getty ImagesCopyright: Getty Images

Posted at 10:5210:52

‘I’m a different player to 2015’ Kerr

Australia v Italy (12:00 BST)

Tom Garry

BBC Sport at Stade du Hainaut, Valenciennes

Widely tipped to shine this summer, Australia captain Sam Kerr is the all-time record scorer in both America and Australia’s professional leagues, but is yet to score at the World Cup finals.

Asked how much she has been thinking about getting her first finals goal in her third World Cup, the 25-year-old replied: “Every time I step on the field I want to score for my country but to do it at a World Cup would be a dream come true.

“But I feel like I’m a different player for this world cup. I feel like I’m a different person and better prepared. I hope to add some goals on the scoreboard but if I don’t tomorrow, the win is the most important thing.”

Posted at 10:5110:51

Aussies eyeing up Lyon

Australia v Italy (12:00 BST)

The Matildas, ranked sixth in the world, have reached at least the World Cup quarter-finals in their last three appearances.

They have a new coach, Ante Milicic, who replaced Alen Satjcic following a five-year reign, but it doesn’t seem to have affected the squad.

Australia have won their last three games under Milicic, scoring nine and conceding just one and won the Cup of Nations crown as a result.

They suffered a 5-3 defeat to defending world champions USA in April but there was plenty to be encouraged about by the performance.

They could go far in this tournament and will have their eyes on the final in Lyon if key player Sam Kerr hits the ground running.

Getty ImagesCopyright: Getty Images

Posted at 10:4910:49

Star player – Barbara Bonansea (Italy)

Australia v Italy (12:00 BST)

Juventus’ attacking midfielder Barbara Bonansea is one to watch when she drives through defences with expert dribbling skills.

She has been compared to Italian skiing legend Alberto Tomba because of the way she slaloms through opponents.

A threat on set-pieces, Bonansea scored three and assisted six in qualifying. She studies economics outside of football too so is a woman of many talents!

BBC SportCopyright: BBC Sport

Posted at 10:4710:47

Post update

Tom Garry

BBC Sport at Stade du Hainaut, Valenciennes

BBC SportCopyright: BBC Sport

This 22,600-seater stadium is starting to fill up nicely as kick-off gets closer.

Outside the ground earlier, Australia fans appeared to far, far outnumber Italian fans.

I’ve met many Aussies who’ve travelled all the way from down under, including these fans from Sydney. Similarly, here in the press box, Aussies are in the majority.

BBC SportCopyright: BBC Sport

Posted at 10:4510:45

Can Italy cause an upset?

Australia v Italy (12:00 BST)

Italy are the underdogs today having only qualified for a third World Cup and their first in 20 years.

But they will fancy themselves to cause an upset and I think they could too.

Football is definitely on the up domestically in Italy with investment in the women’s teams. The national team also won seven out of eight games in qualifying.

Italy have targeted the knockout stages as a realistic goal in this World Cup. With outsiders Jamaica in Group C, a beatable Australian side and an ageing Brazilian squad as their opponents, it is certainly achievable.

The Azzurre are well organised at the back – conceding just four goals in qualifying – and many of the squad play together at club level for Juventus, Fiorentina and AC Milan.

Getty ImagesCopyright: Getty Images

Posted at 10:4410:44

Competition in Group C

Australia v Italy (12:00 BST)

This could be one of the most open groups in the tournament. Australia are the favourites to top Group C given their world ranking.

Brazil will expect to be challenging too but if six-time World Player of the Year Marta, who is a doubt for today’s match against Jamaica, misses out, they could struggle.

They are an ageing squad who have struggled for form in the last two years but they can’t be written off.

Italy will be eyeing up one of the lucky loser places but will fancy their chances against the higher-ranked teams.

Jamaica are the lowest ranked team in the whole competition at 53 in the world and it’s their first ever World Cup.

BBC SportCopyright: BBC Sport

Posted at 10:4110:41

Post update

BBC Red Button

You can watch this game live on the BBC Red Button and online by clicking the icon at the top of this page. It hits the screens at around 11:45 BST.

Posted at 10:4010:40

‘We’re as ready as we can be’ – Game

Australia v Italy (12:00 BST)

Anticipation and expectation in Italy have been rising before their opening game. Asked how the squad are feeling about their extra media interest,Italy and Juventus skipper Sara Gamesaid: “We have our feet very much planted on the ground.

“We are, little by little, getting used to the extra recognition we’re getting, but we have to stay loyal to our values.

“We’re trained a lot, we’ve worked really hard and now all we feel like doing is playing.

“We’re as ready as can be. We’re going to do our best.”

Getty ImagesCopyright: Getty Images

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[femslashhistorian]

9 Great and Long Kara / Lena Fics - SuperCorp Fic Recs

In this SuperCorp (Supergirl) Femslash Fanfiction Recommendation, I have collected nine long and excellent stories.

This is my contribution to Fic Rec Days, on Femslash Friday in Femslash February 2017. (So many tags ;-) (If you’ve missed it, here’s the post explaining what Fandom Fic Rec Days is about)

All of the stories were finished in late 2016, early 2017 – before Supergirl episode S2E12 Luthors aired. I did not include real AU (Alternate Universe), soulmate AU or stories dealing with (red) kryptonite - which I might come back to separately. Sanvers is a secondary or background ship in many of the stories.

Overview of the nine Kara / Lena stories (scroll down for the detailed recs and links)

Three Days by Silent_Specter: The one that perfectly blends an angsty action thriller with a love story

Beyond Compare by writerstealth: The one in which, after Cat left, Kara and Lena are building a life together

Lord, Save Me from Your Followers by anamatics: The one that is much more than a social media love story

Don't need no butterflies when you give me the whole damn zoo by yourbestapology: The one in which Lena, Kara, Alex and Maggie spend a weekend in Lena’s cabin

Danishes and other sweet treats by unicyclehippo: The one in which Kara and Lena go to a conference together and Lena lashes out at Kara

My personal Santa in heels by Clonchi: The one that is much more than a Christmas fic (despite the title)

You Saved Me by DarthSayahSwag: The one in which Lena (falls in love with both Kara and Supergirl and) does not want to become Supergirl’s weakness.

Through her stomach by Vallern: The one about Kara’s two great loves: Food and Lena.

Heroism is a full time job by unicyclehippo: The one in which Supergirl needs to be Lena’s bodyguard and Lena likes Kara - but Supergirl not so much.

1. The one that perfectly blends an angsty action thriller with a love story

Title: Three Days

Author: Silent_Specter (@thattallnerdybean on tumblr)

Link to fic: [AO3]

Setting: Supergirl TV 2015 (DCU) AU-ish (a bit Alternate Universe)

Relationship: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor (Supercorp / Karlena), secondary: Alex Danvers/Maggie Sawyer (Sanvers) (f/f)

20 Chapters, 43k words (completed)

Published: 2016-2017 (Jan)

Rating: Teen and Up

A post-Medusa fic, exploring what might happen when Supergirl finally goes to talk to Lena Luthor. The two begin to see each other more clearly after a particularly tense night, but whenever Luthors and Supers are involved, there's bound to be trouble as well. Will Lena and Kara find happiness, or are they destined to play out the tragedies of their families forever? (This story is heavily focused around Lena. It's mainly Supercorp, but there is some quality Sanvers in there! Also some unexpected brotp Maggie/Lena. Minor appearances by other characters.)

Very angsty, romantic and heartbreaking. There is a beautiful love story and a well written action movie / thriller plot all competently wrapped together. At the height of the tension, when it is revealed what Lex had done to Lena, my heart nearly broke.

This amazing story succeeds where many AAA movies fail: to weave all of this together into something that is more than the sum of its part: angst, romance, action and suspense.

Definitely one of the best plot driven femslash fanfics. One of the best, in my opinion the best Supercorp story, brilliant. Alex and Maggie are also portrait very well and it is fun to see Lena and Maggie interact.

2. The one in which, after Cat left, Kara and Lena are building a life together

Title: Beyond Compare

Author: writerstealth ( @writerstealth on tumblr)

Link to fic: [AO3]

Setting: Supergirl TV 2015 (DCU) AU-ish (a bit Alternate Universe)

Relationship: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor (Supercorp / Karlena) (f/f)

9 Chapters, 10k words (completed)

Published: 2016

Rating: Mature

What started as a rebound relationship slowly grows into something much more important for Kara and Lena.

Kara and Cat were lovers and Kara is still hurting and a bit broken that Cat left (and left her). This is the story of Kara and Lena.

“It seems that perfection is attained not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing more to remove.”

I had not expected to use this quote from Antoine de Saint Exupéry to describe a Supercorp story, but here we are. I had never thought it would be possible to write such a full and complete love story with just ten thousand words. I cannot remember having read a story of this lengths before that felt like a full-length novel. And I am still amazed how perfectly @writerstealth managed to achieve this.

There is no action, no retelling of episode plots, no side ships, just the story of Kara and Lena. There are not even any additional characters apart from Cat. Neither Cat nor Lena is perfect, neither of them is evil. Both are imperfect people, both have faults, both are human. Beyond Compare also excels at showing that a relationship with Cat would have left lasting effect on Kara.

If you have never watched the show, or you are looking for your first fanfiction to read, this is probably not the right story to start. Once you have seen a bit of the show and read a few fics, I think you will be able to appreciate the brilliance of this beautifully written story. It made me cry and it made me smile.

3. The one that is much more than a social media love story

Title: Lord, Save Me from Your Followers

Author: anamatics

Link to fic: [AO3]

Setting: Supergirl TV 2015 (DCU) AU-ish (a bit Alternate Universe)

Relationship: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor (Supercorp / Karlena) (f/f)

8 Chapters, 27k words (completed)

Published: 2016

Rating: Mature

Kara, perhaps out of a want for thoroughness in her story, perhaps out of a Millennial-born urge to creep on the social media of a woman she finds intriguing, discovers that Lena Luthor has a pretty active following on Instagram one afternoon not long after their first meeting. She debates it, just for a moment, before following Lena.

This great story uses Instagram comments and twitter as a storytelling medium and blends this together nicely with more traditional narrative.

It focuses on Kara's work as a reporter covering anti alien protests. At the same time, she is falling in love with Lena Luthor and she struggles with her Kryptonian upbringing and the notion of pre-arranged marriages and how strange Human romantic live still is for her.

Favorite Quote: "But Astra was gone and Kara had no one else that she could talk to about this aching feeling of wrong-rightness in her stomach.  Her mother was a hologram, her cousin was human in all but biology. She is the last Kryptonian ..."

4. The one in which Lena, Kara, Alex and Maggie spend a weekend in Lena’s cabin

Title: Don't need no butterflies when you give me the whole damn zoo

Author: yourbestapology

Link to fic: [AO3]

Setting: Supergirl TV 2015 (DCU) AU-ish (a bit Alternate Universe)

Relationship: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor (Supercorp / Karlena), secondary: Alex Danvers/Maggie Sawyer (Sanvers) (f/f)

4 Chapters, 15k words (completed)

Published: 2016-2017 (Jan)

Rating: Teen and Up

Lena invites Kara (who invites Alex and Maggie) to spend the weekend at her cabin in the woods.

This story has a very different dynamic than most other Supercorp fics. With Kara, Lena, Alex (and Maggie from the Saturday) spending a weekend together in Lena's cabin.

Alex and Lena have an interesting dynamic - I like that they get along. And Alex is taking care of Kara, but also teasing her sweet and innocent (and oblivious) sister. I also love the idea that Kara had trouble sleeping alone in the strange environment and that for her the nature / forest is loud and disconcerting. I also love the Kara listens to the heartbeat of someone she loves theme.

This is a sweet and very funny story, there are no Supergirl emergencies, this is just Kara for the weekend.

Favorite Quote: “I’ve got ear plugs,” Lena quickly blurts out. “Would that help?” “She’s fine,” Alex promises. “I’ve been handling this since I was fourteen. I know what I’m doing.”

5. The one in which Kara and Lena go to a conference together and Lena lashes out at Kara

Title: Danishes and other sweet treats

Author: unicyclehippo @unicyclehippo on tumblr

Link to fic: [AO3]

Setting: Supergirl TV 2015 (DCU) AU-ish (a bit Alternate Universe)

Relationship: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor (Supercorp / Karlena) (f/f)

1 Chapters, 17k words (completed)

Published: 2017 (Jan)

Rating: General Audiences

Kara and Lena go to the same conference in Central City. When Lena finds out that Kara hasn't booked a hotel room, she offers her own.

Beautiful and sweet story, some angst, no action scenes. I loved this story. When Lena was devastated and lashed out at poor Kara, this was written so well. It really hurt.

6. The one that is much more than a Christmas fic (despite the title)

Title: My personal Santa in heel

Author: Clonchi (@clonchi on tumblr)

Link to fic: [AO3]

Setting: Supergirl TV 2015 (DCU) AU-ish (a bit Alternate Universe)

Relationship: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor (Supercorp / Karlena) (f/f)

10 Chapters, 31k words (completed)

Published: 2016

Rating: General Audiences

It's no secret that Kara loves Christmas. This time, she has new friends to celebrate with. One in particular, who is very excited to show Kara what she means to her.

Probably one of the first great, long Supercorp fics. In contrast to the title and summary it covers a longer period of time than Christmas. It is a beautiful story of Kara and Lena falling in love.

7. The one in which Lena (falls in love with both Kara and Supergirl and) does not want to become Supergirl’s weakness

Title: You Saved Me

Author: DarthSayahSwag ( @darthwanheda on tumblr)

Link to fic: [AO3]

Setting: Supergirl TV 2015 (DCU) AU-ish (a bit Alternate Universe)

Relationship: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor (Supercorp / Karlena), secondary: Alex Danvers/Maggie Sawyer (Sanvers) (f/f)

27 Chapters, 18k words (completed)

Published: 2016

Rating: Mature

A slow-burn fic alternating in which Lena Luthor already knows she is crushing on Kara Danvers, but as Supergirl and she save one another time and time again, she becomes confused, how can she love two people at the same time? Until she learns they’re the one person.

This is a great, sweet but also a bit angsty story. It focuses on Lena's struggle with the Luthor name and actions by her family. The other main focus is Kara's and Lena's relationship and both of them trying to protect the other one as good as they can. When Lena feels the only way for her to do this, is to push Kara away, I cried.

Favorite Quote: “I can't be your weakness Kara.” Lena broke at those words. She was crying in earnest. Kara reached out, but Lena held her hand out. She rejected Kara's comfort. It hurt.

8. The one about Kara’s two great loves: Food and Lena

Title: Through her stomach

Author: Vallern @lordslacker on tumblr

Link to fic: [AO3]

Setting: Supergirl TV 2015 (DCU) AU-ish (a bit Alternate Universe)

Relationship: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor (Supercorp / Karlena), secondary: Alex Danvers/Maggie Sawyer (Sanvers) (f/f)

6 Chapters, 18k words (completed)

Published: 2016-2017 (Jan)

Rating: Teen and up

Lena tries to gain Kara's affection through food. (And she succeeds.)

Beautifully written and worth a recommendation. I enjoyed it a lot. Lena fiend the way to Kara's heart through her love for food. Sweet story with no action scenes.

9. The one in which Supergirl needs to be Lena’s bodyguard and Lena likes Kara - but Supergirl not so much

Title: Heroism is a full time job

Author: unicyclehippo @unicyclehippo on tumblr

Link to fic: [AO3]

Setting: Supergirl TV 2015 (DCU) AU-ish (a bit Alternate Universe)

Relationship: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor (Supercorp / Karlena) (f/f)

15 Chapters, 60k words (completed)

Published: 2016-2017 (Feb)

Rating: not rated

With her brother after her life yet again, Lena Luthor requests the protection of Supergirl until they can figure out who he's hired to kill her and how to bring them down.

Lena likes Kara but Lena does not know Kara is Supergirl; and while she trusts Supergirl to protect her she doesn't really like Supergirl. Kara is worried about Lena and worried how Lena will react when she finds out who she is (that she is Supergirl and that she is an alien). There is also great Alex and Kara interaction.

This is a well written and a bit angsty story. It is set earlier in season 2 than the other Supercorp stories in this collection. Not action driven, but feels a bit like a detective / crime drama.

originally posted 2017-02-10; updated 2017-04-19:

If you enjoyed this, I have written a second part: 10 More Great and Long Kara / Lena Fics - SuperCorp Fic Recs

To find out more about my f/f fanfiction recommendations or for more ... f/f fic recs | Korrasami | KiGo | DCU & Supergirl | MCU | PoI | Buffy | f/f history

[dvddggs]

To the Four of Us (Part Twenty Three)

premise: modern AU chronicling the squad as they make their way through college and deal with general life things. soundtrack song: if anyone has a song rec for this chapter lemme know! full soundtrack: x  words: 3,131 (THERE U GO ITS NICE AND LONG YALL) warnings: kinda strong warning for this one!! ptsd, anxiety, alcoholism, death mention (if i missed anything please let me know!!) a/n: panic! at my chapter (thx @seas-space-and-stardust) all chapters: x tags: @heythereitsloey @anitheunicorn @newyorkyoucanbeanew @lafbagxette @justafangirlwithanavy @iamgrayfox @ordinaryornate @schuylerjoon @angelica-peggy-eliza @trashyperson101 @crazydragon15 @but-if-you-had-to-choose @geespilots @marvelous-hamilfan @5p00kygh05t @panda-powers @and-maria @lafeyettegunsandships @schokoobananaa @allthegoodurlshavebeentaken @aphboi @hell-yes-puns-and-ships @aham-threw-his-shot-away @hesitantcat @nonstopspook @hamrevolution @writethewayout @alexander-did-you-know @allthegoodurlshavebeentaken @sun-tree @angelizaandpeggy @isis278 @idk-destiel @engulfedinstars @hamiltrashuniverse @ahrupe @just-me-an-asshole @readfizz

dedication: everyone who’s messaged me that they’re refreshing their computers waiting for the update oMFG

It was a Wednesday. The house was quiet. It had been quiet for a long time. It would probably stay quiet for awhile longer. Alexander was sitting on the deck in his backyard, watching the sun rise. He could see his breath when he exhaled—it was freezing. But it was quiet.

He needed quiet.

Because it was a  Wednesday.

The sky lightened over the horizon, blossoming slowly from a deep, calming indigo to a bright and bubbly pink, welcoming the hope and happiness of a new day. But there was no hope. There was no happiness.

And yet the sun continued to rise.

Why?

Alexander sighed, gazing across the yard to his old swing set. He and his father had built it together. Fog danced across the snow which covered the ground in a thick blanket while his mind spun in relentless circles.

He wished the sun would just set again because, honestly, what was the point? It was a Wednesday. Soon enough, John would wake up and learn why Alexander had been up since five o’clock in the morning.

And then?

The world would come to an end.

His mind wandered back to the text from John’s brother. “Dad’s dead.” So blunt. So matter-of-fact. Clean. Done. Over.

Suddenly, a smiling face crossed his mind. It was nothing but a deep, embedded memory that would never be fully whole, but that would also never be fully gone.

His mother.

It was a Wednesday.

“Lex,” she said.

Sometimes the doctors tried to call him Lex but he wouldn’t let them—that name was reserved for his mother. Alexander looked up at her. She was grinning, showing her teeth. They were nice and white—he remembered that. Not too big, not too small. When she smiled, it could light up a room.

“Ready to eat?”

Alexander nodded and climbed onto the bed next to his mother. He was only seven, though she wasn’t much larger than him. She told him that it was because his father was a giant, so Alexander was part giant and he grew really fast. That was also why she said his father had left them—he had to go back and live with the other giants. The showers here were too small for him. Alexander had understood.

Twice a week, the nice nurses from Alexander’s hospital brought him to visit his mother. She told him that the nurses were real-life angels who were sent to make sure that they got to spend as much time together as they could. Every week, Alexander counted down until Wednesdays and Saturdays. Until he got to see his mother.

They ate lunch and watched TV and talked. Sometimes, on his mother’s better days, they would go on adventures. But that only happened twice. Only when the doctor said so.

Once in awhile, the doctor would interrupt their TV show to give Alexander’s mother a needle or ask her some questions. Alexander asked him a lot of questions in return. As time went on, the routine got longer and longer. They added tubes and lines dripping something into a needle on her hand and a machine that went beep, beep, beep…

When Alexander asked the doctor what these machines were, he told him that they were turning his mother into a robot. Then his mother would talk in a choppy, monotonous voice, and Alexander would laugh. He would forget the initial question. This was, of course, the goal.

One day—a Saturday—his nurses brought him to his mother extra early in the day. They even had to wake him up. When he walked into her room, her robot gear was gone. The tubes were gone. The needles were gone. Alexander gasped, grinning, and ran to her. She pulled him into a tight—albeit bony—hug and spoke softly.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Mommy,” he responded happily. “Are you feeling better?”

Usually, when he hugged his mom he had to be extra careful so as not to displace the robot equipment. This time, however, it was all her.

“I sure am, Little Lexie.”

Alexander’s grin, if possible, widened. His mother tried to smile back, but her eyes did not seem happy. He tilted his head a bit but decided that it was probably nothing.

That day, they ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner together. They watched Alexander’s favourite cartoons, played I Spy, and talked until sunset. When Alexander’s nurses stopped by to pick him up, his mother began to cry.

“It’s okay, Mommy,” Alexander said. “I’ll be back on Wednesday! We can finish the show then, right?”

She sniffled, nodding, and let Alexander wipe a tear off her cheek.

“I love you, mama,” Alexander said, letting his mother squeeze him tighter than she ever had.

“I love you too, my precious boy. Just wait till Wednesday, okay? We’re going to have the best day ever! I love you more than anything else in the entire world, did you know that? You are my everything, Alexander. Goodnight, baby boy.”

“See you on Wednesday,” Alexander said as he left the room.

“See you then.”

It was a Wednesday. Alexander awoke bright and early and waited for his nurses to come get him. He squinted at the analog clock on the wall, trying to remember what his mother taught him about how to tell the time.

Little hand on the nine. Big hand on the twelve. Nine o’clock. They were late.

Alexander stood by the door with his backpack on his little shoulders. He’d packed his colouring books that day, excited to show his mother how he’d coloured in the most detailed picture.

Finally, when the big hand hit the two, his nurses showed up. Instantly, Alexander knew that something was wrong. They were not their usual bright and happy selves—their eyes were red and puffy and they looked unbearably sad.

“Alex,” said Nora, the taller of the two. “Do you want to sit down for a minute?”

“But I wanna go see my mama. I want to show her my colouring! Wanna see? Look—”

“Alex,” Nora said again. She was quieter this time—more serious. Alexander sat down and gazed between the two nurses, between his two angels. “Your mommy—”

What Nora told Alexander made his entire world come crashing down around him.

It was a Wednesday.

That was when Alexander usually shook his head free of thought and forced himself back into the present.

The present. A Wednesday. The sun had fully risen and the fog had lifted. He knew it was only a matter of minutes before his father, ever the early riser, got up and began to cook breakfast for the three of them.

The present. A moment of peaceful grief. For his mother. For John. A final quiet moment before heading back inside. Back to bed.

The present. His warm bed. John. Darkness. Quiet. A bit more sleep.

The present. Yawning. A lazy kiss on the cheek and a sleepy smile.

The present. “Good morning, Lex.”

The present. The end of the world.

“I’m feeling a bit better,” John remarked lazily, blinking his eyes awake and sitting up in bed.

Alexander nodded vaguely but didn’t respond. Nausea suddenly erupted in his stomach and he lost the ability to speak. How did he even begin? What could he possibly say?

It was the type of speechless that bound his entire body and left him without even the faintest idea of what to think. He was consumed by it.

John raised an eyebrow, laughing a little.

“Is something wrong? Is this about last night? I mean, I had a little meltdown but I’m good, see?” He pointed to his mouth, which he warped into a wide, happy grin. “Sleep fixes everything! Well…not everything, I guess. But it helps. Right, Lex? Lex?”

Alexander was staring at his lap the entire time John spoke, unable to look him in the eye. He couldn’t hide this—there was no way. And why should he? He wasn’t even supposed to know. What right did he have to withholding information?

“John,” Alexander whispered.

John’s smile transformed into a furrowed brow. He looked confused and increasingly concerned.  What could have possibly happened that made things worse between the end of his nightmare last night and now?

“I need you to listen to me, okay?” Alexander continued, swallowing hard. John nodded, his heart rate increasing rapidly. “Your brother texted you last night after you went back to sleep. Something—happened.”

Alexander took a deep breath, no idea how he was possibly going to get the words out.

“Alex…”

“It’s your dad, John—your dad…he died. Last night.”

Nothing.

Silence.

A minute.

Two minutes.

John was staring at nothing. His eyes glazed over and he looked at nothing. He felt nothing.

Inside, he was falling down a pit of darkness. Cold, alone, and broken. He hit the bottom then kept going. Kept falling. Nothing hurt though, he felt nothing. He was nothing. He was numb.

Empty. Hollow. He had nothing left. The world had taken from him—taken and taken and taken—until he had nothing left to give. And here he was, scraping the bottom of the pit, giving up the last thing that he could possibly give—his own father. 

Alexander didn’t dare to breathe. He didn’t move closer to John, he didn’t offer any comforting words. He studied John’s face. There was no sadness, no reaction.

“John…”

But he just shook his head vaguely.

“He’s dead.” John tested the words on his tongue. They sounded strange and foreign. Wrong.

Alexander said nothing.

“He’s dead,” John repeated, inhaling shakily.

Alexander’s eyes widened a bit.

“He’s dead.” A third time. “Okay.”

Internally, Alexander fought between past and present, the murky, unclear memory of his mother fighting for dominance over John. But no. No, he needed to be here. This was not about him. He fought the urge to submit to the comfort, to the warmth of his mother’s face. To where he usually retreated when he needed a break from the present.

“I’m so sorry,” Alexander whispered. He knew from experience that those words were empty, meaningless. But he didn’t know what else to say.

He understands? He knows what John’s going through?

But it wasn’t about him. He couldn’t make it about him.

John just nodded, staring into space. He made no attempt to move even after Alexander stood up.

“Do you want to call your brother?”

Another dazed nod.

Alexander unlocked John’s phone and dialled his brother’s phone number, handing the device to John as it rang. Through the pressing silence in the room, Alexander could hear James pick up the phone.

John said nothing, so James began to speak.

“John.”

No response.

“You got my text,” James continued. “I don’t even know what to say, John. I am so, so sorry.”

John nodded.

“Okay,” he said when he realized that James could not see him.

“They said there was some internal bleeding…that they didn’t catch in time. It was fast.”

“Okay.”

“John?”

No response.

“Can you come home?” James’ voice broke a bit on the last word.

John shifted his gaze into focus and looked at Alexander, who nodded. Somehow, they would find a way.

“Okay,” John repeated.

Alexander’s heart ached—John sounded like he had absolutely no substance left to him whatsoever.

“John,” James prompted. No response. “I’m really sorry.”

John paused, waiting for something more to be said. When it wasn’t, he hung up and handed his phone back to Alexander, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. His eyes glazed over once again as Alexander put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I need to go talk to my dad,” he said. “Do you want to come or stay here?”

“Stay.”

Alexander nodded, kissed John tenderly on the top of his head, and walked downstairs. When he left his room, he let himself feel again. He had to try and hold it together for John but, god, he didn’t realize how much it was hurting him to see his boyfriend in this much pain.

“Morning, Alex,” George said brightly when he heard the footsteps descending the stairs.

“Dad,” Alexander said. His voice was hoarse and his hands were still shaky. He told his father what had happened—everything from John’s nightmare to this morning with his phone call to James.

By the end, George had fallen into a chair and was staring at Alex.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, when his son finally stopped talking. “Is he okay? I mean—of course he’s not…but, you know what I mean.”

Alexander shook his head. “I think he’s in shock. He’s barely said two words since I told him.”

“Are you okay?”

“It’s not about me, Dad, it’s—”

George shook his head, cutting Alexander off.

“Answer the question. Are you okay?”

“Um, no…not really. I—I keep thinking about Mom. I know it’s really selfish of me and I’m trying to focus on John but—”

He was cut off again by his father pulling him into a tight hug. Alexander felt hot tears spill down his cheeks.

“Alex,” George said fiercely. “Of course you’re allowed to be thinking about your mom. This thing that’s happening to John right now—this terrible, horrific thing—the exact same thing happened to you. I’d be concerned if you weren’t thinking about her.”

Alexander nodded, wiping his eyes quickly.

“Thanks, Dad.”

George stood up and pushed back the sleeves on his shirt.

“Well, go and get your stuff,” George said.

“What do you mean?”

“We need to take John home, right?”

Alexander almost smiled.

Almost.

John sat on the bed while Alexander gathered their things—a pile of stray clothes which had accumulated in the corner of the room over the past few days.

It was strange—it seemed like Christmas had been a lifetime ago, though it had only been a few days earlier. How had so much happened since then? How did life get to this point? In the blink of an eye, how had the world as they’d known it changed?

As Alexander shoved his clothes into a duffel bag, he heard John’s voice from behind him.

“Laf,” he said, into his phone Alexander presumed. “My dad is dead.”

His voice, Alexander noticed, sounded no more emotional than it had this morning. It was as if saying it out loud helped him realize the truth of his words.

“Oh, great,” Alexander heard Lafayette say through the speaker. “What’d he do this time?”

Dead silence.

Alexander’s eyes widened as he whipped around to see John’s reaction to their friend’s misinterpretation of his words. His jaw dropped when John smiled, but he almost passed out from shock when he started laughing.

And once he started, he couldn’t stop.

John was cackling through the phone at Lafayette, who had no idea what was going on. Alexander was mildly afraid that John was having an actual full-blown mental breakdown. For almost five straight minutes, John laughed and laughed until tears began to stream down his face.

John’s laughter faded into a chuckle so that he could gasp for breath. In, out. In, out. Before he could inhale again, the tears of laughter turned into heaving uncontrollable sobs. His phone slipped from his hand and crashed to the ground, leaving a crack through the screen, but John didn’t react. He was crying harder than Alexander had ever seen anyone cry. He wretched and heaved, doubled over, absolutely stricken with grief. It was as though the realization of what had happened had finally come along and punched him in the gut.

Alexander dropped the sweater that was in his hand, picked up the phone, and wrapped John tightly in one of his arms.

“Shh…I know, John…it’s okay to cry…I know…” he murmured softly before pressing the phone to his ear. “Laf—John was being serious…his—his dad died last night.”

At Alexander’s words, John let out another loud sob into his shoulder. Alexander winced and pressed his cheek to the top of John’s head. With each sob, it felt like a knife slicing through Alexander, opening up the almost-healed wounds that had been inflicted upon him when his mom died. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and stare at the ceiling and cry for twelve hours straight.

But he had to be strong for John. He had to keep him afloat. Right?

Lafayette hadn’t spoken except to whisper, “Oh my god. John, I’m so sorry.”

“Me and my dad are taking him home,” Alexander said quickly, his voice wavering. “I’ll update you.”

Without waiting for Lafayette to respond, Alexander hung up the phone and wrapped his other arm around John. He buried his face in his neck and took a deep breath, willing himself not to cry.

As he stroked John’s hair, brushing it down his back, behind his ears, off his forehead, Alexander let his mind wander to his mom. The dark corner of his mind that no one could access but him. He had not thought about her in a long time, so today was like an assault on the senses. He didn’t know if John realized how strongly he understood the feeling of absolute hopelessness that sat in the pit of his stomach, relentlessly punching him, beating him up, killing him.

John’s grip on Alexander’s neck tightened and that was when he lost it too. Alexander simply couldn’t hold himself together anymore—he didn’t have the fight. He let his emotions spill forward as he clung to John and let himself cry. He was quiet, not even sure if John knew he was crying, but listening to John’s pain verbalized was too much.

When Alexander ran out of tears to shed, he sat there holding John. He was numb—out of emotion. John’s gut-wrenching sobs had slowed to silent streams of tears. They held each other, not speaking. Not needing to speak.

They didn’t move until George knocked softly on the door and let himself in.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked softly.

John didn't respond, but Alexander nodded for the both of them. He stood up and pulled John to his feet. Though he wavered a bit, after a deep breath he was alright. They leaned on each other as they walked to the car and climbed in the backseat, John’s head resting on Alexander’s shoulder.

John fell asleep, the sun illuminating the fresh tears that were still wet on his cheeks. Alexander rubbed a thumb gently along his jawline.

“Dad,” he said quietly.

He saw George’s eyes shift to him in the rearview mirror.

“Hmm?” he replied.

“I don’t think I can go through this again.”

[rougesrant]

The Rogues Rant #239

Welcome to The Rogues Rant, an occasional look at all things Rugby

Finally some good news for Rugby fans. Foxtel have announced that Super Rugby will return to our TV screens as of Saturday June 13 with the New Zealand Super Rugby Aotearoa match between the Highlanders and the Chiefs at Dunedin. With New Zealand lifting crowd restrictions, huge crowds are expected for this match and the already sold out Blues V Hurricanes match at Eden Park, Auckland on Sunday 14th. The games are the first of the Kiwi tournament involving all five of the NZ Super Rugby franchises. With a deal being reached between Rugby Australia and Foxtel for TV coverage the Super Rugby AU tournament will kick off on Friday 3rd July. Queensland Reds will host the Waratahs at Suncorp Stadium on Friday night with the Brumbies and Rebels to meet the next night in Canberra. While the New Zealanders will be cheered on by their loyal fans, the Aussie matches will be played without spectators with Coronavirus restrictions still in place at this stage. Bring it on!

On the international front the England Rugby Premiership will resume on August 15 with nine rounds remaining to complete their interrupted season. World Rugby has also been working on a new format for the 2021 International Season. At present it looks likely that a new approach will be taken which will impact on all levels of senior Rugby. The likely format will see the Southern Hemisphere Rugby Championship Tests played during February and March next year followed by Super Rugby AU and Club Rugby at all levels to be played from April through to September. The Australian home Test series against Northern Hemisphere sides will be played during October followed by the Wallabies Northern Hemisphere tours in November. It’s a new format which is needed as it appears that the old Super Rugby format is well and truly buried with South Africa clearly heading towards a European involvement. There is still a lot of work needed to come up with a workable and efficient structure for Club and Super Rugby in Australia. If we are to see the Wallabies performances improve and Australian Rugby climb back up the International ratings, then a new and progressive development program has to be implemented by Rugby Australia, and soon.

Some sad news this week with the passing of Terry Troy recently. Terry was heavily involved with the development of the Tech Waratahs Junior Club in the late 1990’s which laid the foundation for the success of the Tech Tahs Senior club throughout the “Naughties”. Terry also contributed strongly to the administration of the successful Illawarrior Senior and Colts squads of 2005. After moving to the Southern Highlands, Terry also contributed to Bowral Rugby Club over the years and was a regular at Eridge Park recently enjoying the resurgence of the famous club. Rest in Peace Terry Troy.

A very important IDRU Board meeting is sitting down as this column goes to air. We are pretty much at crunch time now if we are going to see any local rugby played in 2020. With there still so much indecision surrounding the whole Coronavirus situation I can only see one decision eventually being made, but when?  See you in 2021.            

All opinions offered in this column are the opinion of the author. They should not be considered to represent the views of the IDRU.

[sophis1234]

FOX #1 Saturday in the U.S. BBC One #1 in the UK. Nine #1 in AU.

Football, Dancing and Cricket dominated viewing on television throughout the world on Saturday. The Daily Diary Of Screens #dailydiaryofscreens 🇺🇸🇬🇧🇦🇺💻📱📺🎬🌎🗺️🇮🇳. For Saturday, December 2, 2017. This is your North America, Central America, South America, India, UK and Australian Daily Television Ratings Platform. In the U.S., FOX #1 broadcast network as ‘Big Ten Football Championship‘ featuring…

[ao3feed-idolproducer]

three questions he asked (and one he didn't)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2xp4eeK

by johnsonzzzyc

yanjun seems to have a lot of questions for zhangjing lately.

(aka three saturdays and three questions plus one day that's not even a saturday and yanjun doesn't even ask a question)

Words: 2804, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV), NINE PERCENT (Band)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Lin Yanjun, You Zhangjing, Lin Chaoze, Lu Dinghao, Zheng Ruibin, Zhou Rui, Wang Linkai | Xiao Gui, Zhu Xingjie, Bi Wenjun, Huang Xinchun, Zhu Zhengting | Jung Jung, Ding Zeren, Huang Minghao | Justin, Jeffrey

Relationships: Lin Yanjun/You Zhangjing, Lin Chaoze/Lu Dinghao

Additional Tags: literally just pure fluff, pure unadulterated mush, don't get diabetes, University AU, is this puppy love? probably, i just really love zhangjun

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2xp4eeK

[ao3feed-b99]

we could be stars, we could be rose gold

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2HfE66x

by startofamoment

“YIPPEE KI-SKATE, MOTHER– Uh– Nevermind.” The kids giggled as Jake cleared his throat loudly and motioned for all of them to gather around. “Listen up, everyone! Today, we’re going to be practicing your forward swizzles!”

Technically, Amy didn’t have to come in on Saturday mornings. All her on-ice coaching sessions were during the week, and weekends were meant to be for analyzing training videos and coordinating with choreographers. Still, there was just something about seeing him with all his helmet-clad students that made her want to keep giving up her one chance to sleep in.

Words: 1025, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Amy Santiago, Jake Peralta, Rosa Diaz, Ray Holt

Relationships: Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago, Rosa Diaz & Amy Santiago, Ray Holt & Amy Santiago

Additional Tags: figure skating AU, y'all made me do this

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2HfE66x

[sophis1234]

CBS #1 Saturday in the U.S. ITV #1 in the UK. ABC #1 in AU.

CBS #1 Saturday in the U.S. ITV #1 in the UK. ABC #1 in AU.

This was the Third day of the May Sweeps rating period. May Sweeps runs from April 27 through May 24, 2017. Drama and Reality topped the English Language World Friday in prime time. Mystery, Variety and Drama were the top television viewing choices in the English Language World on Saturday in prime time. The Daily Diary Of Screens #dailydiaryofscreens 🇺🇸🇬🇧🇦🇺💻📱📺🎬. For Saturday, April 30, 2017.…

[sophis1234]

Who Knows #1 Sunday in the U.S. BBC One #1 in the UK. Nine #1 in AU.

Who Knows #1 Sunday in the U.S. BBC One #1 in the UK. Nine #1 in AU.

The Daily Diary Of Screens #dailydiaryofscreens 🇺🇸🇬🇧🇦🇺💻📱📺🎬. For Sunday, March 12, 2017. This is your North America, Central America, South America, UK and Australian Daily Television Ratings Platform. In the U.S., overnight TV ratings for Saturday 3.11.17 & Sunday 3.12.17 remain delayed due to a power outage at Nielsen’s data center. Both days numbers will be posted when available.…