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soft-bellied-tannies · 4 months ago

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Chubtober Day 6!

We going with a WIP today, friends. I haven't had much time to write this weekend, but I wanted to share something with you so here is a snippet I have been working on.

It will eventually be posted as a part of the second chapter to last year's Chubtober finale - Full, Fuller, Fullest.

Definitely read that first before checking out this WIP otherwise, it won't make much sense lol!

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Jimin should have realized sooner that a day or two wasn’t going to be enough to recover from his week-long stuffing. He also should have realized how much being full for a week straight would stretch out his stomach.

Getting ready for bed Sunday night after quite possibly the best week of his life was proving to be more of a challenge than he thought. He wouldn’t say that Jungkook fed him quite as much over the weekend because Jungkook wasn’t the instigator this time around.

Jimin snacked all day long Saturday and had been the one to overdo it all on his own with a few too many dumplings.

Sunday had been a slow afternoon, laying around and finishing their latest drama while Jimin emptied a bag of honey butter chips, two cups of instant ramen, a pint of ice cream, and a couple of random choco pies he found in the pantry - all washed down with a couple cans of Coke.

After brushing his teeth, Jimin lifted up his shirt to see that his stomach almost looked more bloated now than it did a few nights ago. He started to trace a faint pink line that popped up next to his belly button when Jungkook cleared his throat from the doorway of the bathroom.

“So much for that recovery weekend, huh?” Jungkook asked with a teasing smirk. He stepped behind Jimin and reached around to caress his belly.

Jimin leaned back into Jungkook’s chest as he rolled his eyes. “This is all your fault. It was your idea to begin with.”

“Oh no, my idea ended on Friday night. No one forced you to eat our whole snack supply this afternoon,” Jungkook replied, patting Jimin’s still-taut belly a few times.

“Well, someone did seem more focused on that than our show so maybe I had some motivation,” Jimin cut back, trying to hide both his growing smile and blushing cheeks.

Jungkook gently pulled Jimin’s shirt down and tugged his hand over to the other side of the bathroom. He slid their scale out with his foot and gestured for Jimin to step on.

“Well…I seem to remember that someone proposed an idea of his own a few nights ago so let’s see if the ‘recovery’ weekend worked in your favor.”

Jimin rolled his eyes again at Jungkook’s dramatics, but he did step onto the scale, not expecting much since it had only been two days. However, Jimin clearly had to stop making assumptions because the bright red “196.7” blinking up at him made his jaw drop.

“Shit, that's almost 4 more pounds. You definitely don’t need until your birthday. You’ll be 200 by Tuesday at this rate,” Jungkook said, in equal parts seriousness and teasing. He knew Jimin didn’t slow down over the weekend at all, but it certainly didn’t seem like that much.

Jimin let out an involuntary little whimper at Jungkook’s words, realizing he was absolutely right. Somehow Jimin’s little impulsive thought to eat the whole pizza last weekend had turned into him completely wrecking his self-control and metabolism.

He had gone from gaining a slow and casual fifty pounds over the last year to piling on over ten pounds in ten days. Obviously they couldn’t maintain the way he had been eating for the past week all the time, but Jimin knew that his outlandish, partial joke about doubling his gain over the next year was going to be more of a when rather than an if.

Something about that thought turned Jimin on more than he wanted to admit. If they didn’t have to work in the morning, he probably would have told Jungkook to go grab anything from the kitchen so he could feed him again.

Instead, Jimin led Jungkook to their bed and decided that a belly rub would have to be his consolation prize. He drifted off with Jungkook’s warm hands easing the tension of his full belly and his loving whispers lulling him to sleep.

—-

It was moments like this that made Jimin glad he was a freelance writer who could make his own schedule and work from the comfort of his own home. He had woken up to a still bloated and incredibly hungry belly the next morning.

He almost wanted to skip his entire routine and head straight for the kitchen, but he wasn’t ready to let all of his self control completely slip away. After doing his skin care, Jimin selected very comfortable and loose clothes, knowing that his sensitive belly actually needed to start recovering today.

While his coffee brewed, Jimin heated up the container of kimchi rice and made himself three fried eggs to put on top. He also realized that Jungkook had made him a milk bread and strawberry sandwich at some point, which he grabbed from the fridge.

As he scrolled through his emails, Jimin made quick work of his larger-than-normal breakfast. He knew this past week would increase his stomach capacity, so Jimin was going to try to get ahead of his hunger if he could.

His resolution after weighing himself last night was to eat intuitively now. His appetite was clearly leading him toward his goals so he should follow it.

Getting caught up in a list of editing changes kept his focus, not realizing that Jungkook was walking into his office until his partner was setting down a bowl and a cup on his desk. Jimin jumped slightly, looking up with a smile when he saw Jungkook’s smiling face above him.

“Just bringing you a snack, baby. I figured you could use one,” Jungkook said nonchalantly as if it were an innocent gesture.

Jimin laughed but had to agree that he was starting to feel a bit peckish. “Thank you. I hadn’t realized it was already 10:30.”

Jungkook kissed the top of his head in response before reaching down over Jimin’s shoulders until his hands landed on his belly. “Damn, can’t believe you are still so bloated. Maybe you’re stuck like this now.”

“I am not stuck like this,” Jimin replied dryly with a scoff. “I just need more time to settle. Someone kept me filled up like a balloon ready to pop for days on end.”

“Well, you know a balloon deflates eventually,” Jungkook said, dropping a kiss on Jimin’s cheek as he stepped away until he was in the doorway of the office then he continued, “but they don’t shrink.”

Jungkook winked at Jimin before turning to walk down the hall, his laugh echoing as he did. Jimin let out a little offended sound, thankful that Jungkook wasn’t still there to call out the bright red blush filling his cheeks from his teasing.

Jimin was quickly learning that maybe he and Jungkook were better at this whole gaining dynamic thing than they ever knew.

—-

Spending the rest of the day working helped Jimin be more mindful of his intake. He gratefully accepted the simple lunch Jungkook prepared for him, and he had a light snack after he logged off for the day.

Since Jimin had spent the entirety of the last week allowing Jungkook to cook and order all their food, he was looking forward to cooking dinner together. They decided to go with a vegetable stew recipe Jimin had been wanting to try and sat for a much slower-paced dinner than they had been having lately.

Jimin was certainly full after his full bowl of stew and generous helping of rice but not in the way he had been for the past week or so. He was comfortably full where any typical person would end their meal. Knowing that he really could use a break, Jimin did just that.

After dinner, he curled up with Jungkook and said that he was done for the night. He sipped on his water for a while to keep the desire for dessert away until they made their way to bed.

Jimin made an offhand comment about how he felt less bloated already and hoped for an empty and rested belly in the morning. Jungkook started having some suspicions that Jimin was yet again underestimating himself, but he kept quiet.

Quiet until the next morning when Jimin had the sudden revelation that maybe those ten or so pounds had already settled and it wasn’t just bloating after all.

“So, still looking pretty bloated, babe. Maybe you need another day to settle or maybe…”

Jimin looked up from staring at himself in the mirror, taking in Jungkook’s smug expression that confirmed what he was thinking as well. “Or maybe those ten pounds stuck to my belly and this is settled.”

Jungkook brought his arms around Jimin’s waist, patting a few times and enjoying the rippling movement across his now empty but just as round belly. “I’d say this is a bit more than ten. I mean, look at this gut. You have a proper potbelly now, Min.”

“Fuck, you’re right,” Jimin let out breathily, still feeling a bit shocked at this realization. He had been complaining about how all his weight goes straight to his bottom half for so long yet he wasn’t prepared for it finally changing.

Both wanted more than anything to head back to bed and appreciate this new discovery, but they couldn’t take another day off work.

Jimin asked Jungkook to join him in the shower before they realized that was not a good idea. They would lose track of time immediately and get wrapped up in exploring Jimin’s growing body.

Jungkook told Jimin that he would get clothes out for him and go make his breakfast instead. As much as he wanted to join him in the shower, Jungkook told himself to calm down.

Jimin found his chosen outfit lying on their bed, clearly much different than the oversized hoodies and sweatpants he had been wearing around the house lately. The t-shirt Jungkook picked was from college which had been snug when Jimin wore it six months ago.

He pulled on the pair of low-waisted leggings Jungkook picked first. Jimin usually wore them around the house with a cropped sweatshirt, but he hadn’t worn this pair in the last few weeks. The waistband further emphasized how his belly protruded forward all on its own now from where it was tucked below.

Jimin could feel that the shirt was going to be tight as he pulled it over his head. The sleeves hugged his upper arms more than before which was what he noticed first, but that thought came and went when Jimin realized that the hem of his shirt was barely meeting his waistband.

The fabric hugged his skin without a hint of extra room. It made his belly seemingly bigger and rounder than it already had grown to be recently. When Jimin looked himself up and down in the mirror, it was the first time since he started gaining that he genuinely thought ‘wow, I look fat’.

“Holy shit, you do look kind of fat,” Jungkook blurted out from the other side of the room.

Jimin’s head snapped toward him, not aware that Jungkook was back in the room or that he had said his thoughts out loud. Deciding to push a little farther, Jimin began to pout.

“It’s just the shirt, Gguk-ah. You picked an old one.”

Jungkook shook his head as he walked closer. “I don’t think it’s the shirt, Minnie. I think it’s what’s underneath.”

“That’s not true! If you got me a different shirt, it wouldn’t be as noticeable,” Jimin replied, hoping Jungkook would play into his little game.

“Oh yeah, how about we test that?” Jungkook asked, clearly enjoying this just as much. He stepped into their closet and grabbed a shirt that would likely still be small but was a size up.

Jimin couldn’t believe that he was feeling shy, but his face grew warm as he took off his shirt to change in front of Jungkook. He grabbed the other shirt and already anticipated the reaction just from feeling it slide over his shoulders.

It did have more give than the first shirt, but Jimin’s belly was just as prominent as before. If anything, the little bit of extra fabric was actually making him look wider.

“Seems like it wasn’t the shirt so that must mean-“

“It’s the leggings! Low-waisted pants just aren’t flattering,” Jimin countered, cutting Jungkook before he could make his point. “Breakfast ready? I need to start working soon.”

Jungkook barely held back his laugh as Jimin left the bedroom, evading the real answer that they both knew was true. Jimin truly hadn’t gained enough to be considered fat yet, but yet was the keyword for Jungkook because, with the way things were going, it would be sooner rather than later.

#soft bellied tannies #bts weight gain #chubby bts #bts feedism #sbt little bites #chubby jimin #sbt chubtober #feeder jungkook #feedee jimin

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dreamcatcher-roulette · 2 months ago

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Can I admit to something? Is this a K-pop safe space? It's not drama it's just deeply personally embarrassing.

So there’s two halves to this. The relevance of both might become apparent some time before I finish rambling and get to the point but bear with me. I'm desperately trying to justify my situation.

Firstly. I'm a girl group fan. Dreamcatcher are easily and effortlessly in a tier of their own but I do enjoy and even keep up some other girl groups rather attentively. The obvious follow up question here is well, what about boy groups? Here is a collection of excuses I have previously attempted to offer up in my own defence:

Musically, I like bass and I like high notes. This kind of lends itself to prefering female vocalists, but, as I may have mentioned before, I'm not actually into K-pop that much for the music (Dreamcatcher just happen to also make the music that fits my taste perfectly on top of having the best aesthetics).

Boy group fashion kind of blows. I mean, I have high and somewhat unrealistic expectations for any stage outfits due to the standard Dreamcatcher set, but Jesus Christ the baggy pants epidemic amongst boy groups is something else. Mens fashion can be fun. I think it frequently isn't for the stages I have seen though.

The boy group hair meta also kinda blows. I'm perfectly capable of realising when something just isn't catered to me (and may well have cultural context that's flying directly over my head) and the bowl cut adjacent curtains look that's almost a default hairstyle is one of those things. Just cannot get behind it. Sorry to all the enjoyers.

And now, even though there is truth in all of those excuses, here's the actual reason why I'm making such broad, sweeping statements about an extremely diverse subgroup of artists:

K-pop is an industry that loves to feed on parasocial relationships, and I am gay in the direction that makes me immune to girlfriend fanservice but really fucking succeptible to the right boyfriend fanservice. So long as I keep pretending every boy group sucks I am safe. If I get sucked into one of them it will probably just straight up ruin my life.

Okay. Secondly. Many years ago when I was still in high school my neighbour got really into K-pop. She was a big fan of EXO, and then, this new up and coming group called BTS (anyone heard of them?) She tried, unsuccessfully, to get me to share her passion multiple times. Of the videos she showed me, these are the ones that made an impact:

LEDApple - Time is up

SHINee - Ring Ding Dong

BIGBANG - Fantastic Baby

I liked them enough to watch them on my own a few times, but that was the end of it, until in 2020 I got recommended Scream on YouTube and the rest is history. However, one of the things that amused me getting into K-pop myself was realising 2/3 of those songs reached somewhat legendary status in the time since. Even being a GG fan news from the "other side" certainly still flies across the river, sometimes with recognition, e.g. G-Dragon's semi recent drug "scandal". I remember seeing those articles and thinking huh. Wild. That's what he looks like now. It is at this point I would like you to imagine a bullet narrowly missing my head as I'm looking the other way.

On to the present. I watched MAMA 2024 live nearly 2 months ago. I like the end of year shows. My only complaint is they should invite Dreamcatcher lmao (thank you AAA 2023 that performance still lives rent free in my head) but overall, great fun. Now I must confess, for the aforementioned reasons, I always* mute boy group performances when watching shows live. Happy to critique the fashion, don't want the songs stuck in my head, which is an inevitable outcome of listening to music whether you like it or not (and I'm well aware some of it is probably good).

*Technically I have one exception in either direction, but both are irrelevant to the point.

As you may be aware, G-Dragon performed at MAMA. Everyone seemed pretty hyped. Normally this would have been a mute for me but well, momentous occasion isn't it. The king of K-pop is back. Might as well get the full experience. And it was good! I'm not exactly a fan but I did have enough nostalgia for fantastic baby to appreciate the bigbang stage, and watching all the idols freak out was so adorable. I want you to imagine three more bullets narrowly missing me while I'm looking at the aespa reaction shot.

Like, you're probably aware of where this is heading, right? But it wasn't even the stage. AFTER the stage they still had to give him the award they made up for him being there. And man. Okay. All the actual real life crushes I've had on men that I knew started out having very little if anything to do with their appearance. I'm ace so maybe that changes it but also I don't think that's exclusively it because I'm not the only person I've ever heard say that people you are attracted to become more attractive in some kind of self enforcing feedback loop. Thats why the K-pop content vortex is so brutal because as soon as you're in the variety content rabbit hole suddenly you don't just have some guy who is pretty you have some guy who is funny or thoughtful or he likes all of your favourite movies and you start feeling like you know him, even though you don't. I know that the force of that connection if you let it happen easily overpowers the baggy clothes and the shitty haircut and every other flimsy excuse but given only a muted performance stream or occasional acceptance speech there is not enough room for that personality to break through. I can watch Dreamcatcher accept an award and I see them because I've watched hundreds of hours of vlogs at this point but groups I don't know are just that. Groups I don't know.

Yeah. So about that music visionary of the year.

Holy shit man. I've never seen anyone get up and accept an award with such fucking weird and awkward vibes. I think I was gone from the moment he reached the podium. I said to the friend I was watching the stream with hey. I think maybe I should turn this one off actually. And she said no :) Because she is evil. You know how sometimes a single event can recontextualise over a decade of vaguely knowing about someone's existence? Head in my hands. Of all people. G-Dragon is really fucking attractive. Which is like. In twenty twenty four? Really? Profoundly humiliating discovery. What am I even supposed to do with this one? It's literally G-Dragon. I know there are discourse minefields the likes of which I cannot even fathom wading into this and what am I anyway? A fan? I don't think so. I saw one singular awards show and went holy shit why is G-Dragon the hottest K-pop man by actually one hundred thousand miles and then I just had to go to work again the next morning and be normal. And the thing is that I was not even remotely normal because I then decided to dye my hair bright red the following week which to be fair I have always wanted to do but well it's not UNrelated to the current crisis is it. I'm just. Existing. Really thought maybe it would wear off by now but WELL. It has not.

#not roulette #SORRY.

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 2 months ago

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Snow Day Part 3

Read on Ao3 Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: implied/referenced homophobia

Pairings: logince

Word Count: 8202

"Uh—sorry," Roman stammers when Logan opens the door, and it has everything to do with the fact that there was definitely supposed to be a party tonight and there's no one else here, and nothing to do with the face that Logan's only wearing a button-down with the top few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up, "I must have my dates wrong."

"No, as always your timing is impeccable. Unfortunately, it seems everyone else has had other plans get in the way."

"O-oh. Um—" he shoves the tin at Logan— "here, I'll just go—"

"What for? I didn't say I minded." With that, Logan steps back, opening the door. "Come in, please."

Roman swallows, shuffling forward until he actually sees the inside of this apartment and he's far too stunned to do anything but gape like a weirdo. In his defense, when most people say 'apartment,' they think of probably something like a few rooms with a decent view and not much else. This not-apartment-because-what-the-hell looks closer to a mini mansion that's been squeezed into half of a building with a kitchen straight out of some high-budget cooking show, a gigantic dining table, and a living room that he swears he's seen in every drama ever, complete with floor to ceiling windows along one side. The door closes softly behind him and he quickly looks down, cheeks burning, trying to figure out the polite way to get out of his boots before he gets snow and sludge all over this floor.

"I thought I told you that you needn't bring anything," Logan says, taking the offered tin.

"Yeah, well, old habits. Always bring something when you go over to someone's house for the first time. It's, um, it's my mom's brownie recipe."

"Can't remember the last time I've had a brownie."

"Don't tell me you're one of those people who refuses to eat dessert on principle." Logan's expression twitches minutely and Roman groans. "It's the holidays, you're allowed to indulge. I'm sure as hell not gonna tell anyone."

"I'll hold you to that." He sets the tin down on the corner of the table. "Would you like a drink?"

"Do you have something that isn't obscenely priced alcohol?"

Logan chuckles as he reaches into a cabinet and produces two wine glasses. "Red or white?"

"Is there a non-plebeian way to say 'I have no idea?'"

"You could ask what I plan on feeding you, to figure out what would pair properly."

"Yeah, but if you had opinions on that you wouldn't give me the choice."

"Clever boy." Luckily, his back is still mostly turned so he doesn't see Roman turn bright red. "But…that brings me to the other issue. I had assumed no one was coming over tonight, so I called and canceled the caterer."

"I can go—okay, not the point, got it," he says hastily when Logan shoots him a glare, "uh…we could order something else? Or are you not a take-out person?"

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."

"Okay, smart guy, even though I don't believe you in the slightest. What's the state of your fridge look like?"

"Now who's interrogating who?"

"I'm offering to cook, genius, but I need to know what I'm working with."

There's another weird expression on Logan's face. Weird because it looks like Logan isn't the sort of person who's genuinely caught off guard a lot, and weird because it's making Roman's stomach do these flips and he's gonna ascribe that to hunger and not anything else, thank you very much. Swallowing most of that, he walks over and opens the fridge, blinking when he sees it's nearly empty.

"Okay, you wanna revisit that whole thing about you not being a take-out person?"

"I had it cleared with the expectation of leftovers. From the caterers. Who were going to be here up until I canceled them an hour ago."

"Uh huh." There are a few things he could work with in there. He opens a few more cabinets, trying not to think of one, how weird this is still feeling, and two, how Logan's just letting him go through his kitchen. He manages to find a box of pasta, a few potatoes that look pretty okay, and there's a bag of frozen broccoli in the freezer. "Are you one of those people that has an entire spice cabinet somewhere?"

"Roman," Logan says suddenly, a hand on his arm, "you don't have to cook. We can order something."

"I don't mind."

"You are a guest. I can hardly invite you over and then force you to cook."

"You're not forcing me, I'm offering. Besides," he grins, "you're already eating at least one brownie tonight, can't have it getting out that you're eating take-out too, can it?"

Logan shakes his head, smile growing. "And here I thought you promised not to tell anyone."

"Oh, I did, but unless you've got an NDA ready for whatever delivery driver shows up, they might not."

"You make an excellent point."

"I do have those sometimes. I'm gonna guess that since you had this food in your house, you're willing to eat it, but I'm thinking pasta with potatoes and broccoli on the side, is that fine?"

"That sounds wonderful. How can I help?"

"Uh—" see, now, it's one thing if he's cooking for Logan, it's another if Logan's going to help because that jumps to a level of domestic that he really should've thought about before deciding this was a good idea, but it's too late to back out now— "you can pick the wine since I have no idea how to do that."

"As you wish."

Nope. Not a reference. Just a thing he said. Don't think about it, don't read into it, don't do that.

In an effort to avoid doing exactly that, he gets Logan to show him the spice cabinet and where he keeps things like pots, pans, baking trays, and other things he's gonna need. Logan even has some of the fancy kitchen utensils like mandolins that make his life simultaneously easier and harder. Now that he knows he can do it properly, he's gonna have to.

"Can you preheat your oven for me?"

"It's just an oven, Roman, it doesn't bite."

"Yeah, but mine is the kind where you turn the knob to what it's supposed to be, not some Star Trek looking thing that looks like it'll beep very angrily if I press the wrong button."

"What should I set it to?"

"375 to start with. We'll crank it up once the first part's done."

"And you're certain there's nothing I can do to help?"

"Uh—you wanna melt some butter for me?"

"How much?"

"Just a stick. That should be enough."

"Should I be worried that you're not referencing a recipe," Logan says as he puts a pot on the stove, "or is this another one of your many talents you've been hiding from me?"

"I've not been going out of my way to hide my talents from you, it's your own fault if you haven't noticed them."

"Yes, because our previous meetings have been so conducive to you showing off your skill in the kitchen."

"Lucky you, then."

"Yes, lucky me."

The rest of the cooking does go by remarkably smoothly, not in the least because Roman actually does know what he's doing, thank you very much. And judging by Logan's pleasantly surprised expression, he did a pretty good job.

"Still happy you canceled the caterer?"

"Immeasurably," he sighs, leaning back in his chair as the last of their wine disappears, "that was delicious, Roman, thank you."

"No problem. It's the least I could do."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he winces. Well. There go his attempts to be subtle right now. Blood in the water, tracking through the grass, whichever analogy Logan wants to use right now. His reaction to his mistake probably isn't helping him either. Shit. It was fun while it lasted.

"Say more," Logan prompts a moment later.

"What if I don't want to?"

"Then you needn't, but you can, if you want to."

"I think I'd rather have dessert."

Logan gives him a look like this isn't over—he wasn't under any illusions that it was—but retrieves the brownie tin. He opens it with an unnecessary grimace but takes one before offering the tin to Roman. Roman just bites down because it's chocolate and only an idiot refuses chocolate at the holidays. He keeps his eye on Logan, just to see his reaction, and can't help grin when Logan quickly finishes the rest of his brownie.

"Making you rethink your whole anti-dessert regimen?"

"You're a terrible influence."

He pushes away the sting in favor of grabbing another brownie. Logan rolls his eyes. "Hey, if you don't like them, I'll just take them with me when I go."

"Let's not be hasty."

"Uh-huh," he says triumphantly as Logan puts the tin on top of the fridge, "whatever you need to tell yourself."

Logan tweaks his nose as he walks past, smirking at Roman's indignant squawk. "That wine's gone right through me, apparently. I'll be back, try not to make too much of a mess."

"No promises!"

Yeah, no, Logan's really overestimating his gall if he thinks Roman's about to touch anything in this apartment without his explicit permission. Instead, he puts his hands in his lap like he's a little kid, just looking at everything instead. Belatedly, he realizes he could be productive and put the dirty dishes somewhere or start washing the stuff he knows can't go in a dishwasher because of course Logan has a dishwasher somewhere here, it's probably just hidden behind a false cabinet door or something. But then he's thinking about what Logan might say if he came back to find Roman doing the dishes and then it makes him think of his mother saying guests never do the dishes, Roman, you remember that, and fuck, now he's sad again.

He finds himself staring out of the window. It's not snowing anymore, but there's still some frost at the corners of the glass. His fingers fiddle with the loose threads at the bottom of his sweater.

"Do you think it's gonna snow? It has to snow! It has to be white on Christmas, that's the rule!"

Oh, if only that were true. If only the child's version of Christmas was the real one, the one where everyone puts aside their differences to celebrate being together, where everyone's just content, where the tree tops glisten and children listen to hear—

"…sleigh bells in the snow."

Huh. When did he start singing? Well, little use in stopping now. It was his favorite song for a while for a reason.

The familiar melody rings out in the still room as Roman's eyes drift closed. Unbidden, the song turns melancholy, almost regretful, until it's more a lament than a ballad. His tongue grows thick, his voice heavy.

The last note wavers more than is probably acceptable, but it's not like anyone's around to—

"You didn't tell me you could sing either."

Logan. Roman doesn't quite jump as he turns around, but he knows the shock and embarrassment of forgetting that yeah, dumbass, this is Logan's condo, of course he's still here, is all over his face. He's leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"You've a lovely voice, Roman," he says instead, and he bites back the now who's dodging the questions? in favor of looking away instead, "thought I can't help but notice that sounded remarkably sad compared to other versions of that song."

"Yeah, well."

There's a pause, then Logan's walking forward to refill their wine glasses.

"You," he says as he hands one to Roman, "are far too sad for someone who just cooked a wonderful meal and had the foresight to bring over dessert with it. Come, now, up."

He follows Logan's prompting, letting him steer him to the criminally comfortable couch and sit. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be all doom and gloom—"

"No need for apologies."

"I can't imagine this is how you expected to spend your night."

"Well, no, but it's a damn sight better than suffering through the teasing from everyone about how much of a Grinch I am."

"Why is that? Sorry," he says hastily, realizing how much of a hypocrite that makes him, "you don't have to answer that."

Logan looks at him with that amused smirk before taking a sip of his wine. "It's not that I dislike the holidays, just the pageantry of it. I care little for the theatrics of holiday cheer most businesses use as a thinly-veiled excuse to guilt you into spending more money and the snobby people who insist their generousness is due to some Yuletide folly rather than a facade of charity to make themselves feel better."

"Wow, if you're calling them snobs then it must be bad."

Logan nudges him with his foot. It's supposed to be a kick, he knows, a stop having that sort of attitude with me, but Roman's chest doesn't think of it like that. "Besides, there's always that terrible habit some people have of letting the season convince them they feel things they don't."

Something icy cold settles in the pit of Roman's stomach. "Oh, yeah? Like what?"

Logan sighs again, looking away. "Oh, you know, those sentimental fools that think they'll find love at the holidays. The ones who swear they've met their soulmate only for the relationship to fall apart before the new year."

"…remember when I called you cynical?" he tries to joke to cover up how bad his hands are starting to hurt, "I think I might've undersold it."

"Call me cynical all you like, but I've seen more than my share of reasonable people turn into complete idiots pining away after someone once December begins. All it does it give them more bad memories to dwell upon next year, mourning some fantasy that never stood a chance."

He blinks, then eyes his glass.

"I didn't think I'd had that much to drink."

"Don't worry, I'll add it to the list of things I'm never gonna talk about after tonight."

"Much appreciated." He leans against the back of the couch, one arm slung over the back. "Now, I think I've done my fair share of bringing down the mood, so you needn't worry about that any further."

That is, surprisingly, not what Roman's worrying about right now. He is worrying about the fact that somehow, despite knowing better himself and knowing that it could never, ever happen, he's apparently gone and done the very thing Logan's just condemned. And he has no idea what he's going to do about that, because Patton is away with his partner and he doesn't really have any other friends he can talk to about something like this and his brother—

"Roman?" Logan's voice snaps him out of the spiral, blinking to see him watching him with a frown. "What's troubling you?"

It's not like this is the worst decision he's made tonight. "My…family's not really big on Christmas, not anymore."

"No? I would've thought you'd be the type to get together and made a big deal of it."

"We used to. Back when I was younger. The whole extended family would cram into my grandmother's house and we wouldn't leave until after New Year's." He can't help but smile. "I used to wonder where they were keeping everything, then I learned that only the kids really got to stay in the house and everyone else was in a nearby motel or someone else's house."

"How many people are we talking about?"

"Including the kids, the in-laws, and the friends that got dragged in…I'd say around four dozen? Easily?" He stifles a snort at the somewhat horrified look on Logan's face. "Yeah, it was a lot. But it never felt like it was too much, you know? It was always right, that everyone was there, that you got to see everybody just once, even if it was only for a five-minute conversation, but it was Christmas and so you had to…to just be there for everyone for a few days."

He takes another sip of wine.

"My favorite thing to do was dance with my grandpa. He'd wait until everyone else was distracted and sneak me into the basement where his record player was. Then I'd stand on his feet and we'd dance around the cold floor until someone came looking for us. He'd tell me all these stories about how he met my grandma, or how my mom met my dad, and I'd try and make him guess what song was going to play next and always be surprised when he knew." He shakes his head. "He had that record memorized."

He can feel the cold cement under his feet, hear the noise of the old record player and the growling rumble of his grandpa humming along to Bing Crosby. He can smell the old insulation and hear footsteps against the ceiling from the other kids running by.

He gives himself a shake.

"I—uh—sorry."

"Don't apologize," Logan says quietly, resting his hand on his shoulder, "you're doing wonderfully."

Nope. Nope, not helping. The opposite of helping, actually. Roman swallows. "The—um, the last time I was there, I asked him if I could have the record when he didn't want it anymore. He told me it wouldn't be much use without the record player and I said that's so I had to come back when I wanted to hear it again."

He swallows again.

"That was the plan, anyway."

This time, Logan doesn't ask. He doesn't have to. He just waits, hand still burning Roman's shoulder.

"When my brother came out, they disowned him."

Logan doesn't visibly react, but the air in the apartment grows a little stuffier.

"I fought with them like hell over it, but they wouldn't budge. Said he'd have to give it up if he ever wanted a chance back in the family. I tried to say that they'd always had something against him, even before they knew he was gay, that they just used that as an excuse. They said they'd have done it anyway, and I…didn't believe them, that they wouldn't have reacted the same way as if it was me telling them I was gay."

This happened years ago. It shouldn't still make him this upset. He looks down, swirls the glass of wine around.

"…they weren't bluffing. I was gone the same day. I didn't realize it was Christmas that year until I looked at a calendar and realized it had passed." He makes himself take a sip. "He's doing better now. He has his own family, they spend every Christmas together and we try and call, but it was…it was hard for a while. He didn't believe that I'd tried to stick up for him and when I said they kicked me out too, he—I don't think he believed me at first about that either. We've talked about it since and we're okay, but it's…still hard."

"I'm sorry, Roman," Logan says, his voice terribly heavy, "that's awful. No child should ever have to feel as though their family's love is conditional."

"I'm better off without them."

"Yes, you are. And if they can't see what a wonderful person you've become, then that's their fault."

See, now, Logan can't just go saying things like that, because then Roman will start crying. He takes another sip and forces a smile. "Sure I didn't bring down the mood too much?"

"What do you typically do for Christmas?"

"Huh?"

"You said your brother spends time with his chosen family, what about you?"

"I, uh, well, normally I spend it with Patton and his folks. They're not really big on the whole Christmas dinner thing but we always spend it volunteering at this place right outside the city."

"But he's with his partner this year," Logan deduces, and Roman just nods.

"Guess I didn't really have a leg to stand on when it comes to lack of holiday plans, huh?"

He's not sure what he expected Logan's reaction to be—maybe a huff of laughter and a change of subject—but it wasn't for him to reach into his pocket for his phone and press something that makes music come out of some hidden speaker. Damn rich people and their fancy sound systems. He's about to say as much when Logan puts down his wine glass and stands, offering him a hand.

His mouth hangs open until Logan chuckles. "Dance with me."

"I'm—uh—I really don't know how to—"

"Don't overthink it," he interrupts quietly, "just follow my lead."

Roman's body obeys before his brain has a chance to catch up to whatever the fuck this has turned into, taking Logan's hand and letting him walk them to the center of the floor. True to his word, there are no complicated fancy steps, just two bodies swaying together as the music plays. But all that does is give him time to think about the way Logan's hand presses against his back until they're chest to chest, his hand cradling Roman's as though it's something precious and this, this is why Roman can't think about this. Because if he keeps thinking about it, he's going to start thinking about how badly he wants to tip his chin up just a little and he's not going to watch Logan's expression harden as he kicks him out of his house.

"You're still thinking too much," Logan murmurs in his ear, kindly not pointing out the way Roman shivers, "just relax."

"I haven't danced with anyone in a long time, okay?"

"You're doing wonderfully." Roman can't hold back the disbelieving huff and Logan squeezes his hand—again, probably in reprimand but it just makes his chest flip— "you've already impressed me enough tonight, Roman. It'd be unfair if you were also a phenomenal dancer."

Roman sighs and tries. Honestly, he does, and he only realizes he's doing it by humming when Logan murmurs something about his having a lovely voice again. "Thanks."

"Is White Christmas your favorite?"

"It used to be. Now I don't know what it is. Do you have a favorite Christmas song?"

"Do I look like the type to have a favorite Christmas song?"

Well, you don't seem like to type to slow dance with a relative stranger in your house after no one else showed up to your party either, but here we are. "Guess not."

They keep dancing. The music goes from purely orchestral pieces to old-fashioned crooners to a few slower songs Roman doesn't quite recognize. All the while he tries not to think about how this would be a great way to spend his Christmas. No presents necessary, no tree, no nothing, just…here. With Logan, dancing to music. Maybe with snow falling outside.

Logan chuckles when he voices that thought—just the snow bit, not the everything else bit. "What fascination do you have with snow?"

"I like it."

"Stunning argument, counselor."

"We're not in court, shut up." Logan just laughs at him again and he rolls his eyes. "It's the one thing I can still be sentimental over, okay?"

Logan's laugh fades and now he's just looking at Roman with a soft expression. "Well, then. Far be it from me to stop you."

They come to a stop as the song finishes. They stare at each other. The next song starts but they don't move again. The air grows thicker, thicker, the wine wrapping its hazy tendrils up through his chest, his throat, making his eyes heavy and—

"I—I should go," Roman mumbles, pulling away. Logan lets him. "Thank you for—hosting."

Logan doesn't say anything. He's still watching Roman and Roman knows he didn't just imagine that. But Logan's earlier words ring in his ears and he hurries to get his shoes on, shrug on his coat, and vanish into the punishing cold of the late night streets.

***

Christmas Eve.

Roman tips his head back, snow melting as it touches his damp cheeks, his tears icy cold by the time they meet his trembling lips. He'd never quite realized that it was true: snow created a hush in the air as it fell. The park has never been so quiet. A single flickering streetlight illuminates his bench, a layer of power already accumulated on his shoulders and knees. He blows out a cloud of steam.

He'd stopped feeling his fingers and toes a while ago. Distantly, some part of him registers that he should be worried about that. But worrying involves moving, and the thought of leaving this one little place has him sick to his stomach.

I can't leave now, he bargains, there's a spot on this bench that needs to be kept free of the snow. It'll look really obvious that someone was sitting here because there will be so much less snow, so I might as well keep sitting here.

The bench might be cold. It's cold, after all, it's snowing—and even just having part of the bench warm would be better than nothing. And it's really quiet out here. If Roman wasn't here, then there wouldn't be any noise at all and that's disconcerting, especially on Christmas Eve. How can you be expected to be all alone on Christmas Eve? How could Roman leave this bench to be all on its own when it was Christmas Eve? That would just be cruel.

He sniffles. It falls flat in the hushed air.

He's such a fool. A heartsick, pathetic, sentimental fool. He should've known better. He should've known this time of year was dangerous for him, him and his clinginess and his brashness and his unwanted enthusiasm. He should've known better than to try and make friends, make any sort of connection because it wasn't going to be what he needed it to be. He should've listened to that therapist his parents made him go see, when she said you've got a lot of love in you, you just need to put it in the right place. He doesn't know where the right place is anymore, but he sure as hell has lived long enough to be able to recognize the wrong place.

But he's carved out a space for himself this Christmas Eve, see? There's a part of the bench with no snow on it, that's where he belongs.

Unbidden, a wave of resentment for his brother crashes against his chest, and soon after a tsunami of self-loathing all but drowns him. How can he be so cruel, tonight of all nights, to begrudge the fact that his brother has a place to call home? People to call family? He should be happy for his brother, grateful for the fact that only one of them has to freeze on a park bench tonight because it's less painful than being in an empty house that feels no more a home than that wretched place with people who despise them for having the audacity to exist. He should resent them, for taking his joy, but he doesn't. Instead he chooses to resent his brother who has the courage to find it for himself again.

Maybe the park bench doesn't want him here either. Maybe it's just being quietly polite.

He sniffles again. A tear drops from the bottom of his chin and lands in the snow with a wet splat.

Even the pain of fantasy would be a welcome distraction, even though he knows, he knows it's only making him more and more foolish. But the night is cold and the snow is too quiet and so his brain begins to spin.

Because he hasn't imagined all of it. He can't have imagined all of it. Not the way Logan looked at him when he said he didn't have many people to buy presents for, not when he listened to his tragic sob story, not when he asked him to dance and held him close like they were actually lovers, not a sad excuse for a holiday friendship, borne of necessity and convenience rather than anything sustainable.

"All it does it give them more bad memories to dwell upon next year, mourning some fantasy that never stood a chance."

Logan's words crash over him and he muffles a sob in the snowy evening. But he's already admitted to himself that he's a fool, there's no further harm in continuing to be foolish.

So he lets himself imagine it. Imagine a Christmas with Logan. Of baking cookies in that miracle of a kitchen, of decorating a tree with a combination of simple elegant ornaments and the ridiculous ones Roman buys because they're gaudy and hideous and utterly perfect. Of slow-dancing to Christmas songs in the living room as the snow falls outside, of cuddling under the blankets for warmth even though there's no chance the heat will go out. Of Logan's soft expression, the gentle touch of his fingertips under his chin, the press of his lips to Roman's—

A brutal gust of wind stings Roman's chapped lips. He bites them in retribution, and they cry out as his tongue rasps against raw skin. He squeezes his eyes shut, chin tucking against his chest in a futile attempt to make himself warmer but the cold stabs its fingers down the back of his collar and he whimpers. The snow on his lap splatter with fresh tears.

This is a new low for him: crying alone on Christmas Eve. He spares a fleeting thought for what pointed and terribly smug remark Logan might have to say about it, but Logan would never—

"You," comes a voice far too soft and gentle to possibly be speaking to Roman, "are far too lovely to be crying alone on a cold park bench as though you've got no one to care for you."

Roman's head snaps up.

The streetlight forms a corona around Logan's head, the deep black of his coat silhouetting him against the falling snow. He swallows, suddenly aware of how truly wretched he must look, but then Logan's words catch up with him.

"I'm what?"

Logan just looks at him with a frown so deep that it makes tears well in the corner of his eyes again. "You've been out here a long time."

"How do you know that? Wait, how did you find me?"

"Your phone's dead. Patton's been trying to reach you for hours." Roman fishes in his pocket and sure enough, Logan's right. "He called me trying to figure out where you were."

"Why you?"

The words come out far too accusing but before he can apologize, Logan's easing his way onto the snow-covered bench. "Because apparently, I'm the last friend who's seen you."

Oh. Roman's chest buckles in on itself. First, because Logan just said that they're friends, second that he willingly admitted it, which means he must look really pathetic right now, and three, that it means Logan had to drag himself from his luxury apartment to freeze his ass off on a park bench while Roman throws himself a pity party.

"Sorry."

"Now, what on earth could you possibly have to apologize for?"

"You didn't have to come out here. You shouldn't have had to come and find me. I should've paid better attention to the time."

"But you were still going to be out here?"

He bites his lips again. He should just roll over, shouldn't he? Let Logan pick him apart until he's satisfied enough to nudge the pieces together and let Roman be? But the thought of being flayed and eviscerated here has him stifling another sob and he shakes his head. "I can't do this tonight. I'm sorry, I promise I'll answer every question you have tomorrow—or not tomorrow, tomorrow's Christmas, I— some other time, okay? I swear, you can have me sign a contract or something, just…just not tonight, okay? Please?"

Logan's quiet for a moment. Then: "are you sure you don't have anything against lawyers?"

It's meant to be a joke, something to break the tension, but instead Roman curls in on himself further. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. I'm just upset. I'm sorry."

"I'm not angry with you, Roman," Logan says, voice still terribly gentle.

Roman buries his face in his hands. He takes one deep, shuddering breath and pushes his shoulders back, forcing a smile on his face. "Sorry. Guess the holiday stresses are just getting to me, you know?"

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Don't pretend, not with me. I've told you: the one thing I despise most about the holidays is the dishonesty. You're the only person who's been genuine the entire time I've known you and you've never shied away from telling me the truth. Don't start lying now."

Roman crumbles. Of course he does, what the fuck else was he supposed to do? Logan gives a small hum of approval before lapsing back into silence, waiting for Roman to talk. He looks away, gaze tracing Logan's footprints, already covered by a light dusting of snow.

"You never told me how you found me."

A cloud of steam floats upwards as Logan exhales. "You're a lonely man on Christmas Eve who can't bear to be alone. You've come to one of the only places in the city that won't remind you what day it is, and the only one still open this late at night."

"Am I really so obvious?"

Now Logan offers him a rueful smile. "Let's just say we have more in common than you might think."

Roman stares at him. Logan just shakes his head, tipping his chin up to watch the snow. His profile glows ever so slightly.

"Is this what you meant," he asks quietly, "about the appeal of watching the snow?"

Roman looks up at the dark sky. "Yeah."

"You were right. It is very peaceful."

He just nods. They soak in the quiet for a moment. Then he huffs. "Never thought I'd see the day where you'd do something like go out into the snow for no reason."

"I didn't."

"Huh?"

"I told you," he says, and suddenly there's a gloved hand turning Roman's face to his, "you're far too lovely to leave out here all on your own. Practically criminal, if I'm being honest, and I can't spend Christmas Eve in lockup, what on earth would my colleagues say?"

Another joke, another thing Roman should probably laugh at, but he's lost in the tender touch of warm soft leather and the way Logan's looking at him. "What is this?"

"What's what?"

" This. What are you doing? What—" his breath catches— "what about sentimental fools who think they've fallen in love on Christmas?"

"Are you saying you've fallen in love with me, Roman?"

"I'm saying I don't know what the fuck you're doing," Roman spits, and tries to yank himself away from Logan's touch but he can't, he can't, "you—you come out here and you find me even though it's Christmas Eve and it's fucking freezing out here and you ask me to dance with you after I tell you how special it is to me and you host me at a party you didn't even want to throw and you let me drag you shopping and you listen to me when I tell you about how fucked up my family is and you—you— you—"

"I what, Roman?"

"You're making it really easy to fall in love with you," he says as his voice breaks, "and I don't—I don't know if I can stop it."

"Oh, Roman…no, no, hey, don't run away from me," Logan says as Roman's face twists, "shh, listen to me. Why did I say I thought people were sentimental fools for falling in love on Christmas?"

"I don't know."

"You do," he coaxes, "you do, dear one, just think."

Roman is actually incapable of thinking right now, because there's no fucking way Logan just called him a pet name. But then he realizes Logan's looking at him with gentle encouragement and he wracks his brain trying to remember the rest of that conversation. "Um…because it won't last?"

"Not entirely."

"I really don't know, Logan."

"Shh, it's alright…I call them fools because they let the season convince them of feelings that aren't actually there. They get swept up in the tide of holiday fever and can't differentiate it from genuine affection and care. And when all of it fizzles away by the new year, then…what's left?" His thumb brushes over Roman's tear-stained cheek. "Am I a fool, Roman?"

"Huh?"

"I'm reasonably sure I'm not, but you are far more an expert in the holiday spirit than I am, so I'll defer to your judgment." Logan moves closer, their legs pressing together on the frigid bench. "I don't believe I'm imagining the way you relaxed more and more the longer you stayed over that night, nor the way you lit up when you dragged me through those stores that morning. I know I was relieved to hear you'd be attending the office party with me, and I'm not too proud to admit I wasn't happy to remember that meant having to share you with everyone else there."

Roman's throat begins to run dry. Logan's voice lowers, the hand on his face growing heavier.

"I know it made me furious to hear about how abominable your supposed family has been to you over the years, and how it felt to hear that someone as wonderful as you had no one to share your Christmas with. I know how it was to see you standing by the window at that first party in a rumpled sweater and jeans and how hard it was to keep my hands to myself when I got to see you in a proper suit—and then you looked at me with your eyes all wide and scared in that big store and I wanted nothing more than to show you that it was all going to be alright…" He's even closer now, snow awkwardly shoved up between them. "I know how terrified I was when Patton called me and told me he couldn't get a hold of you and how you are the only person who could get me to do something so inane as going outside just to watch the snow."

He's so close. So close Roman has to hold his breath so he doesn't fog up Logan's glasses.

"But I don't know if this will last," he continues, fingers twitching ever so slightly, "I've got no idea what this will become if I let it continue. I have…I have my ideas—my hopes, rather, after what you've just said, but I don't know for sure."

Logan's eyes flick up to catch his. Roman decides right then that the deep, melted chocolate brown is his favorite color.

"So," he whispers, "am I a fool, Roman?"

Oh.

"If you are," he says hoarsely, "then so am I."

A smile breaks over Logan's face. "That's good, then. That means you probably won't push me off this bench if I kiss you."

Roman shakes his head, heart pounding in his throat. Logan leans up and his eyes flutter shut and then he's being kissed. Just a chaste brush of Logan's mouth on his but it's so much better than he could've ever dreamed it would be. It ends far too soon, so soon Roman can't even bear to open his eyes, but then Logan's hand is shifting to curl around the back of his head and he shivers at the sudden change in temperature.

"Come home, dear one," Logan murmurs, "let me warm you up."

"You swear you don't mind?"

He chuckles, lightly squeezing the nape of his neck. "I'll drag you in by the scruff like a pup if I have to."

A different sort of heat shoots through him and he stands up too quickly. Logan doesn't seem to mind, not even when Roman winces at the pain in his limbs—he really has been sitting out here too long. He gets teased a little for being like a newborn fawn but Logan's arm wraps securely around his waist as he guides him through the park to his car. Every time they stop at a red light or a stop sign, Roman's gut lurches like Logan's about to tell him this was all a big misunderstanding, that he's taking Roman back to his apartment after all, but he doesn't.

The wave of heat as Logan opens the door to his building almost sends Roman to the floor again, his hands beginning to itch with the pins and needles of warming up after being so cold. Logan holds him steady, walking slowly to the elevator and along the hall to his door. He quickly takes off his own coat and boots, turning to help Roman out of his as he fumbles with useless fingers, pausing when he sees the fresh tears on Roman's cheeks.

"Wait, wait," Roman mumbles as Logan tries to step closer, "I'll ruin your suit—why in the hell are you still wearing a suit?"

"Working late," Logan says, only for Roman to stubbornly refuse to let him hug him, "it's only a suit, Roman."

"And you'll hold it over my head that you let me ruin it."

"Bold of you to assume I won't hold it over you that you wouldn't let yourself ruin it," Logan says, both of them unable to hide the relief at implying there'll be a time in the future where both of those are possibilities, before his smile grows distinctly sharper. "Though I suppose if only to assuage your worries, I might as well take it off."

"That wasn't—I didn't mean—uh—"

"I'm only teasing you, dear one." He wraps an arm over Roman's shoulders again, guiding him over to the couch and sitting him in front of the fireplace. "Sit. I'll bring you something warm to drink. Do you want another sweater?"

"N-no, I'm—I'm okay."

"I'll be right back."

He taps a button and the fire roars to life, throwing flickering shadows across the walls. Roman unconsciously leans towards it, hunched over his folded arms. So mesmerized by the light, he startles when something big and warm and soft drapes over his shoulders, letting out a soft noise.

"Thought that might help," comes Logan's voice as the couch dips and he presses something else warm into Roman's hands, "is that better?"

"Is this a heated blanket?"

"No, I just threw one of my softest ones into the dryer for a few minutes. I take it that I was right?"

"Careful," he tries to joke, "I might never leave again."

"Believe me, dear one, that wouldn't be a hardship."

Roman quickly goes to take a sip of whatever Logan's given him, only to stare down in shock. "Is this hot chocolate?"

"Mm."

"Why do you have hot chocolate in your house?"

"Because you," he says, wrapping his arms around Roman again, drawing him into his chest for a proper cuddle, "are far too sweet and tempting to be here on my couch as though you think I wouldn't do something like buy you hot chocolate."

"See? You can be good at the whole gift-giving thing."

"Oh, no, this is my being entirely selfish."

"How so?"

"Well, if I have hot chocolate here, I have something to use to convince you to come back." His head dips, one hand tugging the blanket away from Roman's shoulder. "Which means I get to have you like this again, safe and warm in my arms…"

"What—" his mouth runs dry again as lips brush his skin— "what're you doing?"

"Someone very clever once told me that the holidays were the time to indulge. So, here I am," he rumbles as he kisses up to the crook of Roman's neck, " indulging."

"You're gonna make me drop the hot chocolate."

"Can't have that." He reaches out and takes the mug, settling it on the coffee table before cupping Roman's jaw and pulling him in for another kiss. "You might convince me that it isn't too sweet."

" Might? I'll show you might."

"Strong words," Logan murmurs, letting their lips catch, "can you back them up?"

This kiss is harder, deeper, yet somehow so much more tender, as Logan's hand slides into the hair at the nape of his neck, his other underneath blanket and sweater to make Roman gasp as it settles in the small of his back, as he pulls Roman so close he's almost in his lap, impossibly small and yet the weight of the world. When it breaks, Logan doesn't let him pull away, immediately pressing him against the back of the couch so he can kiss his way down his neck.

"Shh," he whispers when Roman lets out a noise, "it's alright, I'm right here. Right here, dear one, I'd never let you get hurt."

"S-stop, Logan, you have to stop." And Logan pulls away so quickly Roman's chest aches with it, looking at him like he's devastated. "It's—it's just too much. I'll just start crying all over you."

Logan softens, then, taking him back into his arms and brushing gentle lips over his forehead. "Cry all you need to. I won't mind."

"C-can we just—slow? Please?"

"Of course, dear one. Here…" He passes the hot chocolate back. "Drink that, lay with me here, and when you're finished, I'll give you something to change into so we can sleep."

"You're—you're letting me stay the night?"

"Well, I'm hardly going to let you slip away from me now. Yes, Roman, you'll stay—I'll bundle you up in warm blankets and hold you close until you fall asleep." He cards his fingers through Roman's hair. "Is that alright?"

"Yeah, yep, that's—that sounds perfect."

He's rewarded with another kiss to his forehead. "You're not going to finish that hot chocolate, are you?"

"Probably not."

Logan just chuckles and urges him up, an arm around his waist again as he pulls him down the hall toward the bedroom. Sure enough, he passes him a soft sleep shirt and pants before pushing him gently in the direction of a bathroom that's larger than Roman's living room.

"And no standing around worrying about not belonging here, just change and come back!"

"I wasn't!"

"Sure."

He puts his head down and quickly changes, trying not to think about how much clothes this soft must cost, before he's awkwardly shuffling back into the bedroom to see Logan's—

Oh. He's drawn the curtains.

Snow drifts gently from the dark sky overlooking the bright cityscape. There's just enough ambient light that he can see the shadow of the bed, Logan's silhouette on the other side, and the beginnings of frost at the edges of the windows. There's a quiet rustle as Logan draws back the covers, softly bidding come lie down, dear one, and the gentle hum of contentment when Roman slides into his arms.

"Tomorrow," he says lowly, "we'll wake up and spend far too long in this bed before I make you breakfast and give you your present."

"You got me a present? But I didn't—"

"You've given me this," he interrupts with a kiss, "that's more than enough of a present. And absolutely no protesting about me making you breakfast: you cooked last time."

"But—"

"What did I just say?"

"Fine," he sighs, as though it's a huge hardship for this really attractive bastard to cook him breakfast on Christmas after he thought he'd wake up alone in his too-cold apartment—Logan shushes him as soon as he feels him tense, nudging his chin up. "It's nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Just—" he sniffles— "wondering how I got so lucky. It feels like I'm gonna wake up and all of this will be some dream."

"Not a dream, dear one. You're really here, in my arms, in my bed." He pulls the covers more snugly around them, wrapping their legs together. "And if you wake during the night, afraid, I'll be there to soothe you too."

"I don't think anyone would believe me if I told them you were this sappy."

"Don't you go letting anyone else in on it, then," he threatens with a playful tap of Roman's nose.

"Can we go out in the snow tomorrow too?"

Logan chuckles. "Of course, dear one. Whatever you want."

"It's a Christmas miracle."

"Go to sleep now, dear one. I can see your eyes growing heavy."

Snow drifts down past the window as the two of them fall asleep. Down below, the last of the cars leave the streets, colorful lights twinkling as the city succumbs to its slumber. Logan's arms stay firmly around Roman, his head in the crook of his shoulder as the mattress dips ever so lightly to cradle the two of them in its very center. The perfect place for both. The last taxi that drives by plays a sweet song on the radio, the melody wafting through the air as it fades away.

"No, there ain't nothing

that I would rather do,

than catching snowflakes on a snow day with you."

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs@el-does-photography@princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl@raven1508

#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #fic #roman sanders #roman angst #roman sanders angst #logan sanders

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multishipper33 · 15 days ago

Note

i've heard i can tell you random ships and you rate them, so i'm curious what you think of my favorites

will graham x hannibal lecter

crazy cannibalistic chef psychiatrist, he sometimes is a consultant for the fbi and has to look at murders he committed (it's so silly goofy) x former fbi man who just wants to stay at home with his dogs but people want him to solve murders, he's going crazy

dean winchester x castiel

a monster hunter with a grain of self worth and a mountain of suicidalness x an angel who literally rebels against god for his love, and will do anything for him (they're both so depressed)

evan 'buck' buckley x eddie diaz

bisexual firefighter with no self worth, and thinks his only purpose is to care for others (he loves co parenting eddies child) x former military personnel with anger issues and a child he will do anything for, he's so traumatized

wow i dunno how so many ships got here, huh they're all gay and sad and complicated who could've thought

alright *cracks knuckles, even though I can’t do that* let’s do this

will graham x hannibal lecter - mm. okay. so, coming from the perspective of someone who has never watched this and who has made many inside jokes about the subject matter… the cannibalism puts me off. “if you love me consume me” is the new “if you love me let me go”?? bro i can’t sign up for that. to me it’s the separation. let me explain how this is justified. say this lector guy is also a person-eater. say he likes to feed his subjects well before roasting them over an open fire like bœuf bourguignon and oh! will likes to do that too. you two can make sweet sweet love after you’ve consumed your family of four. but to have one of them be a cannibal? lector would either a) fear for his life constantly despite his love for this man, or b) be blindsided and lose trust once he finds out the truth. this… isn’t for me.

destiel - alright we’re getting something good here! and let me explain how this isn’t a power imbalance. first of all, they’re both powerful. it’s like if everyone was overpowered, that wouldn’t be op. that would just be tuesday. this dean guy, he’s a monster hunter. “oh, so he’s hunting down cas? toxic much??” shut up, jeremy. you’re not quite right, not quite wrong, but remember this key little detail: cas is an angel. “aha! that’s still a power imbalance.” both of those wouldn’t be?? they’d cancel each other out and I like that. these guys who I know next to nothing about are my babies. they are not toxic and I like that, despite my love of… well, jornoth. bonus points for a) not being Wincest (although I did like that little joke during the ship bracket: IT’S NOT LOSECEST), b) the destiel meme news blog, c) showing up on my fyp (??), and d) you seemed very keysmash-y about them for a while.

evan ‘buck’ buckley x eddie diaz - ohhh this is that stranger thing that the kids are on nowadays? with the horror?? well I adore this actually. you go, bisexual firefighter. extinguish that flame. and the deep-seated belief of needing to care and care and care?? oof, hits hard after watching a certain k-drama. and then we’ve got anger issues + child, which just makes my day. these two seem cute. they will get up to shenanigans and have emotional discoveries. it will be depressing and hilarious. the little kid will also be hilarious. 100k words, strangers to lovers, slow burn. no more notes honestly they just seem great, minus points for the. uh. creepy crawlies and roaring monsters and blood oh god why the blood-

now for my final rating…

the cannibal guy and the dog guy - 1.3/10

destiel - 8.6/10

bisexual firefighter x anger issues - 8.9/10

total score: 18.8/30

this was fun I like doing this

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totaldramacruisecontrol · 1 year ago

Text

Last Time On Total Drama Cruise Control: WE'RE PUSHING DAISIES!

CHALLENGE 9: - SALINAS, ECUADOR

______________________________________________ Everyone is in the lobby of the hotel. Chris is seen arguing with the receptionist, Chef by his side.

“What do you mean the ballroom is in use?! I reserved it months ago! Oh, boo hoo it's someone's wedding, kick them out! I have a TV show to run!”

"Let them be happy, Chris." "They can be happy SOMEWHERE ELSE."

"You're only saying that because you're never happy."

“Look. I have a very strict schedule. I don't have time to wait around and-”

As Chris is arguing, suddenly a staff member from the hotel comes running up to everyone.

“Oh Thank God the new people are here. Come with me. I know today was your training day but we don't have time.”

Everyone is shuffled out as Chris argues away!

Everyone...you aren't with Chris and Chef up front anymore, the hotel staff member rushes you all to another part of the hotel… The receptionist calls for a manager, and Chris turns around to speak with Chef. "God! People! The worse!" ... "Chef, where is everyone?"

Chef looks around. The kids are missing.

"Um. They're somewhere."

______________________________________________

The staff member leads everyone onto what looks like a dining hall. The view of the ocean here is honestly breathtaking, but you also notice….all the old people lounging around. They look bored.

“Ok. So we get a lot of elderly tourists coming here to retire, and we usually have staff check on them. But everyone quit. I know we promised you all training first, but we don't have time. Just…serve them food and talk to them. Please?” “Ok. I will warn you, some of them…they might think you're someone else. Just roll with it, can't have the guest all upset now, here. I'll put you in groups.” Wayne/RajJo/RipperLightning/ Trent/ ScottSugar/ BrickHarold / MKAlejandro/ Amy/ Sammy

______________________________________________ Wayne and Raj - Bitter Rivals "Oh, I'm so happy you two are talking again, I know it's hard after the incident at Drayne's wedding...." "Not to open old wounds, but it was quite a scene! Drayne, how's the wife? Hopefully she got over that comment Ryan said.....oh, talk about having too much to drink! Hoo hoo, you should've known better and not talk about the dress!" "You know how women are with jewelry. But I'm happy to see you two get along. Oh, I remember how you two would fight over everything, you two ran your parents rugged! Hoo hoo! Nice to see you two finally made up." "You were right to tell that hussy that her dress made her look like a hippo. She deserved it." Wayne and Raj are faced with an elderly man who believes they are his great grandsons, who constantly fight with each other. He recalls a particularly gnarly incident at "Drayne's" wedding. Wayne and Raj leave the situation uncomfortable, upset with the fact they had to pretend they'd ever fight with each other. Jo and Ripper - Gossip Grandma/Werther's Feeder

"Oh hello...want a Werther dearie?" "Oh River, I thought I told you not to hang around people like that...people who have trouble with the law. Heaven knows you're familiar with it too...with the inheritance and everything. Have a Werther, dear." "It's just...so hard looking after my Grandson. He's had it rough with his parents and all that. Oh, I would turn to crime if I was left all alone. Here, do you want a another Werther?" "My advice for you two. Don't worry about being left alone, only The Lord Above can judge you. You'll find people in your life that will accept you, and what you did in your past."

Jo and Ripper speak to an elderly woman who won't stop feeding them Werther's Original candies. (Mostly taken by Ripper.) She also seems to know a few secrets about the two...

Lightning, Trent, and Scott - Old Friend/Love Advice

"Oh, oh! Is that you, Randolph? Oh, I haven't seen you in years. Getting pretty frail, aren'tcha? Those old bones don't feel like they used to, huh?"

"Tristin, it's good you came to see your old grandpappy! Who's the girl? Do you need me to give you some advice? I've had many experiences with women in my lifetime." "Oh, RANDOLPH! You're looking frailer by the day…Are you alright? I feel like I should be taking care of you," The old man chuckles. "Maybe you should hit the gym!" "Now, Tristin, don't you have something to tell Scarlett here? You like her, right? Tell her. Tell her that. Be open and upfront."

The old man Lightning, Trent, and Scott are assigned immediately targets Lightning's fear of becoming weak, thinking he is an old friend. Trent is misidentified as his grandson, and he believes Scott is a girl he's brought along. He urges Trent to tell Scott that he loves him, thinking he may want to be more than friends. Trent proposes to Scott on the spot, and Scott says yes. Sugar and Brick - Newly Weds "Oh, how I missed your face, Bryan! You and your wife are just so cute together. I remember your wedding like it was yesterday! How's the baby doing?"

"Isn't being a mother wonderful? How has that been treating you?" "I'm sure fatherhood has been a joy for you, Bryan. Please come visit more often! Oh, Lakynn, what a beautiful baby." "It's okay, Bryan. I'm here for you." Sugar and Brick are mistaken for a married couple with a baby. Brick desperately attempts to keep the peace, but Sugar begins to pull out her acting skills, accusing Brick of a slew of things before claiming she wants a divorce. Brick decides to play along. Harold and MK - Grandson & Grandaughter/Complainy Boomer

"Oh, it's you! My lovely grandson and granddaughter. You know, back in MY day we didn't wear silly clothes like that. Are you both out of your minds?" "What a shame. How many cellphones does one girl need? I can see them weighing down your pockets, you know! We got by just fine without them. Cell phones are making your brains rot! No, 5G is making your brains rot! Speaking of your brains rotting, this reminds me of the stupid fight you two had as kids. You remember the one, right?" "Brand deals? Helping pay for treatment? Hm, maybe I misjudged you both. As long as you're making money, I don't care what you do! I need my medicines!" "Goodbye, Harry. I'll see you in Hell." Harold and MK speak with an old boomer who believes they are both his grandkids. MK leads him to believe that Harold is sick and dying. Alejandro, Amy, and Sammy - Awkward Couple

"Oh, my darling Granddaughter. Come here, come sit down! Oh. And your sister. Yes. Sit down! ...I see you brought your boyfriend."

"Dear, didn't we have this talk already? I don't mean to be a bore, but I thought you were…moving on from that boy. He should've stayed with that wretched ex of his...instead of dragging my sweet perfect granddaughter down."

"Not Now, Sammy Dearie. Amy and I are talking. Oh my, my poor sweet granddaughter, blinded by young love. Can't say I haven't experienced it before. It's just...you could do so much better Amy. You are my Granddaughter. You could have any boy or girl you wanted…why him?"

"Do you think all your flowery words will impress me? You may have brainwashed my granddaughter, but not me. You can judge a man's words or his actions. And I know for you. Those are two different things. But if this is how my sweet angel wants to experience heartbreak, then who am I for stopping her? What a shame. Really. It's so nice to see you two try to be nice to Samey-Sammy. I know she can be…difficult to get along with. Thank for at least doing that."

The old woman Alejandro, Amy, and Sammy are faced with thinks that Amy and Sammy are her granddaughters. She also believes that Amy and Alejandro are a couple. She's very upset about this fact. Throughout the interaction, Sammy is blatantly ignored and brushed off.

TIEBREAKER! The contestants were asked to privately vote for which contestant they believed could lead their team to victory! Alejandro VS Trent!

"Al! Make yourself useful and get me some salt. This soup tastes like a possum's ass."

"Whatever...kids these days. No respect for elders. No respect for nothing! I mean, look at you. A grown man with long hair. Who do you think you are, a rock star? Heh, yet you end up here. Serving me. Hmph."

"Excuse me?! I've never met an Alejandro who-whatsit. Nor do I care. You need to get an attitude fix. I ain't scared of nobody! You. Stop standing around and get me some pepper. This man clearly has no idea how to serve people. Maybe you'll do better. Hurry! My soup is getting cold…."

"You and your stupid haircut. Do you think any girl would talk to you looking like that?! Men these days…soft and weak…pathetic! Just standing around, waiting to be told what to do. You know back in my day; men went to war! They did something with themselves!"

Alejandro chooses to argue with the old man he's faced with, while Trent follows his orders and hands him the pepper he asked for.

It's a victory for the TERRIBLE TAPIRS! ______________________________________________

ELIMINATION: Sammy was voted out and received the cocktail of shame! ...Or was she? It's clear to her that Amy and Alejandro are part of the reason she was voted off. "This isn't how I wanted today to go. I'm really, really sorry." "You expect me to believe that? You're dead to me. Both of you. Do you hear me? Dead! You guys want to disappear so badly? Fine. I'll make you disappear. I'll make sure no one wants to talk to you or think about you again, after all is said and done. Mark my words, I will make you two pay!" Suddenly, everyone can here rapid footsteps approaching. "WAIT," someone shouts! ... IT'S SUGAR! "CHRISTOPHER. McLEAN! I. QUIT! This pageant AIN’T my callin’… ACTING is! LARS von TRIER WAS AT THAT HOTEL… HE SAW MY PERFORMANCE! And it blew his tits CLEAN OFF! SUGAR IS GONNA BE A STAR! So take me Chris… Take me instead of whateva POOR SOUL got eliminated tonight! Because I won’t be makin MILLIONS at the box office… I’ll be MAKING TRILLIONS!" ... It was Sugar who was served the Mocktail of Misery and walked the Plank of Shame. ______________________________________________ "Oh Yeah. Forgot about the boat. Just a reminder, the boat is off limits for maintenance, everyone will have an assigned hotel room until next week. Got it? Good!"

Chris drops a piece of paper at the counter. He makes his to the elevator and leaves….

The paper says:

801 Ripper/Courtney 802 Alejandro/Brick 803 Amy/Wayne 804 Raj/Sammy 805 Trent/Scott 806 Harold/Lightning 807 MK/Jo

______________________________________________

>Alejandro corners Brick. He has to ensure the Tapirs lose and vote for Courtney or he's sending Jo home. >Alejandro and Ripper talk on the beach together. Alejandro discusses his plan to disappear with Amy. Ripper enables this decision. >The Sea Tails (Alejandro, Ripper, Wayne, and Raj) have a sleepover in the lobby. There were pillow fights, nail painting, and a very uncomfortable Alejandro. >Raj gets fed up with the amount of people lying to him constantly. >Alejandro revisits the old woman who spoke down to him during the challenge. "Young Man, you do know that I am merely an actor. All of us, well- most of us were. Did you really think your host lost you?" "I hope you rot in Hell!" > The Seatails band together and attempt to get Courtney eliminated. Well, mostly Ripper and Alejandro. > Scott and Trent get a divorce. #divorce > The hockey bros and Ripper go on a fishing trip! Raj is scared of birds, so when a seagull shows up, Wayne and Ripper fight it off. Ripper specifically took to waving his fishing pole around. > Sammy walks into the ship's club, only to find a crossfaded Alejandro and Amy. Sitting through their conversations is genuinely Hell on Earth. Alejandro explains that he wants to be friends with both of them, but that it isn't possible. Alejandro and Amy receive punishments for having access to the confessionals! > Alejandro has to go on a date with Trent! A successful one. Needless to say, he was not able to achieve that goal. Trent is very aware Alejandro doesn't love him back. > Amy is handcuffed to Ripper, which isn't the best outcome given Chris persuaded him to help out with gelato. They're calling each other "bathroom buddies" now.

A Tapir leaving the game despite their win...Things are getting crazy! Love and hate blossom on this boat, and our garden grows each and every day! How much longer will Alejandro and Amy last? How are Trent and Scott going to survive such a terrible divorce? (#divorce.) And will people PLEASE stop lying to Raj!? Find out next time on TOTAL! DRAMA! CRUUUIISE CONTROL!

#recap

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slytherinshua · 2 years ago

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300 Followers Ask Game!! [closed]

so... i hit 300 followers 😭 given that I didn't do anything for 200, I thought I should do something for 300. and I think everyone likes ask games (including me) so here we are again :) thank you to all of my followers for reading and enjoying my writing, and especially to my moots who I love a lot <33

the rules:

choose 1-5 prompts from any of the lists! i have 5 lists which include: fluff, angst, injury/sickness, funny/misc, & aus/tropes (this one is only if you really really want the fic to be that au, but I may also decide to write the request as an au if I think it fits, cause I love aus!).

choose your preferred idol! i write for: txt, svt, skz, enhypen, bts, victon, astro (yes for rocky, no for bin), verivery, and I can also write for the following dramas: business proposal, alchemy of souls, true beauty, extraordinary you, live on, hometown cha-cha-cha, the uncanny counter, crash landing on you, & doom at your service!! please request any idol/male character you would like, i'm comfortable writing for all of them!!

please specify from what list each numbered prompt is, cause if you just say "prompt 5" i won't know what list you want it from :(

i never write nsfw, and i am a minor so please don't be weird.

if i don't get to your request right away, please be understanding! writing takes a long time, and i am a student, so i have to balance school as well as writing. but, i'll always try to complete every request that is sent it! example: "hi! could I please request #31, 6, and 24 from fluff, #9 from sickness, and #43 from angst for yeonjun?"

requests will close by June 10th so get them in before then.

lists below the cut!!

Prompts taken from lists by: @commander-krios,, @pompompts,, @rosewritingprompts,, @raiurune,, @make-me-imagine,, @scealaiscoite,, @writingraven,, @yourwonwoo

Fluff Prompts

"I missed you... a lot."

"I don't regret a single second I've spent with you."

"What are you do-" "Look, now we match!"

"You're cleaning this up, right? Since this was your idea."

"I don't think either of us are qualified for this, but sure, go for it."

"And why would I do this for you?" "Because you love me." "Not enough- fine."

"Who let you look so cute today?"

"Can we wait a second? I wanna take a picture of you right now."

"I think I'm gonna fail this test-" "It's okay, you pass in my heart." "That means nothing."

"Since we're dating, does that mean I can hold your hand whenever I want?"

"I've been looking for my hoodie-" "My hoodie, you mean."

"As must as I love food, I'm giving you the last piece just this once."

"Shut up and kiss me already."

"I've waited for so long just to say that to you."

"You seem like you want ice cream."

"You love me?" "I always have."

"Here comes the airplane!" "I can feed myself. " "Too bad."

"I know it's not the best but-" "I love it."

"I can hear your heartbeat- why is it going so fast all of a sudden?"

"You look beautiful."

"You got me flowers?"

"You're the worst; I love you so much."

"You're being extra cuddly this morning."

"You dyed your hair, didn't you?"

"You're crazy if you think I'm letting you sleep on the couch."

"You don't get to pick the movie if you're going to fall asleep."

"You have that on you all the time?"

"I'm in desperate need of some cuddles."

"You're hogging the blankets."

"May I have this dance?"

"You are way too cute."

"Can I hold your hand?"

"You're purring like a cat."

"Stop looking at me like that or I'm gonna kiss you."

"I'm pretty sure about my feelings."

"Shit, you- you are beautiful."

"But... I've never kissed anyone before." "...I can show you how it works."

"Ten times. You can kiss me ten times, no more, no less."

"...Did you just kiss me?" "Yep."

"Stop doing this to me." "Huh? I'm not doing anything." "Stop lying! You're making me all fuzzy inside."

"Oh. It's surprisingly nice to hug you."

"You owe me a kiss."

"Go with me?" "Only if you hold my hand."

"If I asked you to stay, would you?"

"They don't compare to you. No one does."

"I think I'm in love with you."

"You bought me flowers?" "Yeah, well I noticed you seemed kinda down, so I wanted to cheer you up."

"You said you wouldn't fall in love with me." "I lied."

"Don't go on that date." "Why?" "You know why." "I want to hear you say it."

"Can I kiss you?"

"I can hear your pout from here."

"You look really cute in glasses."

"Are you blushing?"

"You have stars in your eyes... I like looking at them."

"You come into my room and woke me up, to cuddle?"

Angst Prompts

"You're the only family I have left."

"Stay with me."

"I'm never going back."

"You're so frustrating."

"You need to forgive yourself."

"You are the reason I'm still here."

"You're out of your damn mind."

"This was a mistake."

"I didn't know where else to go."

"Hey, look at me. I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm sorry." "For what?" "For loving you."

"Stop running away from your feelings."

"All I've ever wanted is for you to love me."

"When did you stop loving me?"

"Just please open your eyes..."

"It hurts so much. Why does it hurt so much? I just want it to stop."

"Forget it. Just like you forget everything else."

"You almost died and you're making jokes?"

"I'm scared."

"I don't miss you. I miss us."

"I thought I'd never see you again."

"Don't look at me like that." "Like what?" "Like you still love me."

"You weren't there... Why weren't you there? I needed you! I needed you! And you weren't there!"

"If I never see you again, just know that I love you so, so much."

"Whatever you do, don't let go."

"You don't have to hide your tears from me."

"You left without saying goodbye."

"For once in your life, do what you want! Be selfish!

"Whatever you do, do not turn around."

"No matter what they made you think, you are worth saving. You are worth loving."

"Don't look at me like that, please."

"This is the third time you've broken a promise to me. I'm starting to think you're doing it on purpose."

"I'll come back for you. I promise."

"You would risk letting all those people die for one person? Why?" "Because it's not just one person... it's you."

"I always said I'd die for you." "I didn't think you meant literally."

"At least I kept my promise?"

"Of course I noticed. I notice everything about you."

"Take a deep breath?"

"Are you okay?"

"Did you miss me?"

"Look at me."

"Please don't cry."

"No one's looking."

"You're safe, I promise."

"I'm not going to let anyone hurt you."

"Don't look at them. Look at me."

"No one ever cared about me like you."

"It wasn't your fault."

"You're a terrible liar."

"I'm sorry you had to see me like that."

Injury/Sickness

"You said you would stay safe! Getting shot isn't staying safe!"

"Feeling better?" "It feels like I've been slapped but on the inside." "So... no?"

"You're an awful liar, and you're sick."

"You're bleeding." "No shit."

"Stop grumbling and just tell me where your medicine cabinet is."

"This is going to hurt."

"You're doing great."

"Squeeze my hand."

"Ever gotten stitches before?"

"Keep the ice on it."

"You're covered in blood- need to tell me something?"

"I'm going to be sick."

"It's just a headache, I'm fine."

"How long did you think you could hide that?"

"On the count of three, okay?"

"Feel better now?"

"Stop squirming."

"I know it hurts, baby, I promise it's just for a few more seconds."

"Oh God, what happened?!"

"I hate seeing you in pain."

"Don't be such a baby, it's just rubbing alcohol."

"How bad is it?"

"Can you walk?"

"You're bleeding."

"Don't you dare die on me."

"You tried to kill me three days ago, now you're helping?"

"Who did this to you?"

"Can you even see through all these get-well flowers?"

"I can't kiss you or you'll get sick too."

"Let me kiss it better."

Other/Funny

"The amount of drunk that I was has no correlation to the bad decisions I made."

"For the most part, I am, in fact, an idiot. But I fully admit to it, which should count for something."

"Shh- that's just what you think." "No, I'm pretty sure it's what I know."

"Oh please, who's gonna stop us?" "The police."

"Oh no, my head, it's falling conveniently onto your shoulder!"

"You're cold?" "No? It's super sunny right now-" "Take my jacket anyway."

"This is unfair." "I can't help the fact that you're terrible at Mario kart."

"Am I your favorite?" "I like your dog a bit more than you, I won't lie."

"What's that even supposed to be?" "It's a drawing of you, idiot."

"It's a 4000 piece puzzle and you've finished maybe 100 pieces max. And how long have you been doing this?"

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone screw something up that fast before."

"You come here often?" "Well, I work here, so I think I'd have to say yes."

"You couldn't handle me even if I came with instructions."

"Where have you been all my life?" "Hiding from you."

"Abort mission. I repeat, abort mission." "What? Abort what mission? All you were doing was introducing yourself to your neighbor?" "Yeah, and they're too attractive. I can never speak to them again."

"Are you alright?" "Yeah, why?" "You look mad." "That's just my face..."

"Can someone explain to me, in not so many words, why they are here?

"In case you haven't heard, there is a bounty on your head." "Is that why you're here? To kill me and take the bounty?" "Pretty much."

"We really need to stop meeting like this." "Then stop breaking into my house!"

"Why are you creeping outside my bedroom window?!" "I thought it would be romantic if I climbed up here." "You gave me a heart-attack!"

"I like being wanted." "You should NOT like being wanted by the police!"

"I am nothing if not consistent." "Yeah, a consistent pain in my ass."

"I can't stand you!" "Then sit down."

"Your hands are colder than the one time I lost a bet and had to stick my hand into the snow for five minutes."

"McDonald's is open, wanna go get some chicken nuggets?" It's 3 in the morning." "And?" "Let's go."

"If I survive this, I'm killing you."

"I've been thinking-" "Uh-oh."

"What happened?" "Do you want the long or the short version?" "Uh, short?" "I made a mistake." "Okay, long version." "I made a very very big mistake."

"Please shut up so I can kiss you."

"You're smarter than you look." "Is that a compliment for my intelligence or an insult for my looks?"

"Can you hold this for me?" "That's your hand."

"Can you just pretend to like me for one night?" "I don't have to pretend."

AUs/Tropes

Soulmates

Prince/Royalty

Masquerade Ball

Neighbours

Library

Secret Dating

Fake Dating

Enemies to Lovers

Rivals to Lovers

Highschool

College

Assassins

Secret Agents

Fantasy/Magic

Friends to Lovers

Coffeeshop

Diety

Superhero

Bodyguard

CEO

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fangsanddaggers · 11 months ago

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Astarion had dressed, but he lingered, making the bed, fussing over the man's clothes. He'd opened the window, was ready to run to it and leave, but the sound of footsteps lock him in place.

He deserved the pain he was about to receive as his eyes clenched tight and his shoulders pinched up. He wonders how it might happen, surely kindness only goes so far for a monster like-

He hears the anger first before the words. He laughs, a bitter, broken thing. The man knew nothing of the world he lived in, of the sick delight he took in killing since he was free. Cultists, goblins, undead, fiends, duegar-

They were all wretched people that deserved to die. Not once did his blade even raise towards an innocent. He'd say except to Gale, but he was far from perfect.

He turns to look at the other, trying to school his features into something empty, but he knows there's shock clear as day. He doesn't halt the hand, rather seems to almost, very nearly, lean into it. There it was, that kindness all over again. It was like that damn bard, or that frustratingly endearing warlock. And that smile. Oh, it could keep him sated for a week.

He's struck all over again with the reminder that this man truly knew nothing of his world. Elves were from story books, vampires completely foreign, perhaps his abuse is familiar, but, well. Not really a topic for a first date, is it?

He snorts at the mention of a familiar mindset, suddenly wanting to shred anything that could possibly make this impossibly sweet man think he's a monster, if that is what the other meant.

Perhaps it's the sassy wit and ease of reading people he means. Who knows.

Reporter. Huh. Somehow, that just fits.

The other leaves his side, looking for the shirt he'd folded atop the jacket on the bed for him, a strict instinctive thing to make excuses to linger in places he likes. Cazador would allow it because he was such a good-

"Tch. Something tells me anything more I say about myself might have a few broken items around the home, darling." He tuts lightly, but dares to sit almost daintily on the bed, showing he didn't want to go.

"I am two hundred and twenty seven years old." He looks to his hands, taking a shaken breath. "Near two hundred of that, was spent as His spawn. I'm sure with your sharp eye you've noticed what he's taught me, how he trained me. Starved half to death the entire time, ravenous and desperate for any putrid scrap he'll give me. Until I was infected." He taps his head, a strange amusement tickling him into a near hysterical laughter.

"To think, I'd be delighted to be infected with a Mind Flayer tadpole!" He scoffs at that, knowing the other had no clue. "It's supposed to turn me into one of them. A tentacle faced alien. Yet mine, Jeremiah as I call him, doesn't want to." He still wants to laugh at that, the idea so wild to him.

"They feed on your brain, devouring it before morphing inside your body. Yet mine refuses even a little nibble." He cackles, but still he pets the temple where Jeremiah sits, calming as he looks out the window, as sun kisses his pale skin.

"I hadn't seen the sun for near two hundred years until I was kidnapped by these creatures. Now infected? I can do what Cazador cannot; walk in the sun and live to bathe in it's warmth." It was wild, to think there was even anything he could do that his wretched Master could not.

"In short, a dull read filled with sufferance, drama and no happy ending." He sighs, leaning back to rest on a hand, rolling the other. "Blah blah, tragic backstory, blah blah, horrible and unending trauma, blah blah, tragic mess turned free yet infected. No, it's not contagious, if he leaves my head I die. you cant have little Jerjer, he's mine. If you want a tadpole, find your own." He was a touch possessive of his friend.

Without him, the sun will kill him. Without him, Cazador can take control of him again.

Without him he's no longer Astarion.

Yeah, he hadn't thought Astarion was planning on making a meal of him. That visceral physical reaction tells Roberto all he needs to know, more than the words ever could. The mask can't hide the self hatred and terror written in every line of Astarion's body.

"Figured I'd ask to be sure. Dunno how these things work after all. Didn't figure that was your angle anyway." Roberto can also tell that he's legitimately hurt Astarion for asking that, even if he really didn't think that was the goal of feeding him.

Clearly, this is a complicated thing he's stumbled into. Trauma all but oozes off Astarion, and it's all tied up in things Roberto doesn't understand, from a world he's not a part of. Asking questions and making statements is a minefield where anything could be taken poorly and cause offense and hurt.

He has the brief thought, wondering if it's worth it to even try. But then he remembers Astarion's face last night when Roberto gave instead of took and...

Fuck but Roberto is a damn bleeding heart. Just like Vash, and this is why he tried so hard to keep apart from people. The kids warmed him up again, and it's hard to go back to being cold.

So he listens. Listens and tries to keep his reaction to the descriptions to an empty expression and a tightening of the grip on his mug. Its like learning about Nicholas all over again, created to be someone's toy or pet or weapon, all but killed and remade with a chain around his neck. It makes Roberto want to break something, for all that he's not the kind of man that usually reports to violence.

That Astarion thinks himself a monster for it is just another nail in the coffin for Roberto.

He lets Astarion slip away, gives them both a moment while the elf can get dressed and covered and feeling more secure and Roberto can breathe out the need to punch something. Then he slips from his seat and follows, makes sure his steps aren't quiet enough to be missed as he steps into his bedroom and right up to the slight, pale figure.

"Someone making you a monster doesn't mean you are one," he says, voice low and still slightly tight with the edge of anger. He sighs and carefully reaches out, gives Astarion plenty of time to retreat from the hand aiming for his hip. "Me asking questions isn't the same as making accusations. I'm dealing with something I don't have a frame of reference for. Didn't mean to offend you. I don't mind the company, it's nice having someone with a familiar mindset around." He gives a little smile, one side of his muchstache tilting upward.

"Can't say I'm always in the mood for a wild night or anything, but I had a good time. Wouldn't mind a repeat or if you're just keen to talk. Been told I'm a good listener, though that might just be the reporter in me." Then he pulls away and sets to retrieving his shirt and jacket, giving Astarion space to finish getting dressed and bail of he wants to. Roberto won't try to keep him there if he's had enough.

#drunkelreporter #drunkelreporter th 1 #Thread 1

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zuffer-weird-girl · 4 years ago

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I may be hella afraid of birds but that wont stop me from making this.

Injured wing

The poor thing was in the balcony of the apartment. Making sounds and flapping their wings at ferocity to try to take flight again as you watched in pity.

Taking a warm towel from the dryer, your boyfriend's one since it was the comfier to be exact, you picked up the squirming little brow winged creature and took inside. You didn't had the heart to leave it out there, especially due to the snow.

While taking things out of cabinets, you didn't noticed your phone buzzing with the notifications of a certain... top hero calling you.

"A nightingale." You mused as you read on the internet what type of bird was now having fun on bathing on q small pot of water and singing to its heart content "How adorable!" You gushed as it shock out of the droplets of water as you carefully put a sorta of a tiny sling on a popsicle stick to mantain its feather that seemed to be broken stood on place.

"Sorry buddy, guess you're gonna have to stay like this for some time." The bird seemed to calculate your words before tweaking as you giggled at its cuteness.

That is until you heard the door opening and clicking shut.

Fuck. Keigo.

You grabbed the bird delicately and put it on a box filled with a soft towel and placed on your bed before going to open the bedroom's door to see a soaked wet, hair flat and worried hero with a frow.

"Is this some sorta of revenge or what? I was worried sick (Y/n)! You weren't answering your phone so I thought something happened." You picked your phone in confusion.

"You did?" Shit "oh..."

"Yeah. 'Oh.'" He crossed his arms before sighing cupping your cheeks "Why did you stood me up? I thought we were going to have dinner together on that restaurant."

"God!" You face palmed "I totally forgot! I'm so sorry Kei!" You whined as he let out a chuckle.

"Is fine. Although I would like if you compesate for m-"

Before he could finish his sentence, you both froze when a couple of chirps were heard. You analyzed his expression and soon giggled in nervousness at seeing his wings puff up in alarm.

"Was that.. was that a chirp?" He yed you, his pupils dilated as you took a step back with a smile.

"I.. I dont know? Maybe they are out there singing." You rolled your eyes and sweated when he towered over you as you kinda protected the nightingale inside the box with your body.

Yet the chirps intensified...

"There is a bird in here." Hawks more accused than asked as you giggled in nervousness once again.

"A bird? Why would a bird be-" the nightingale manage to escape the box and tweaked at both of you "...here."

"What is he doing in here?" He asked, if you didn't know Keigo enough, you could assume he was... unpleasant.

That's why you were so hesitant on showing the little nightingale to him in the first place when he showed up. You werent blind, and knew Keigo had some bird attics that showed up here and there. It wasn't as frequent as it would be however he was resting if the commission hadn't somehow put their hands on it. But Keigo didn't hold much strings around you. So... you could clearly see that your boyfriend wasn't happy when another one of "his kind", especially a male, he could tell somehow it was a male by the chirping dont ask why, was beneath the same rooftop as him with his partner alone.

"Is here because he is injured Kei, he needs some treatment." You cupped your hands together for the nightingale climb in it as Hawks hlardd holes at the little thing.

"Take him to the vet or something kid, this ain't a clinic." You flinched at his words but still remained strong.

"No I am not." You said "I dont know if they are going to sacrifice him or not Kei, I cant take chances."

"Do you even know how to take care of a bird in the first place dove?!" He asked, hands up as his wings puffed even more which made you snort and arch an eyebrow at him as the fella in your hands chirped.

"Well, I do have some knowledge of wings. And have to take care of one on daily basics." You giggled at the expression of shock and insulted Keigo did before walking off and leaving him groaning and sulking at knowing you wouldn't get rid of that street bird...

"Keigo Takami." He froze when he heard his full name coming from your mouth "Put that phone down. That little bird is going to stay until it gets better." He did just as you said with an eyeroll before pouting in anger at seeing the bird at your shoulder.

That's his place to put his chin on and snuggle your neck with his face. His.

"And you have to carry that thing whenever you go now? That must suck." He tried to joke, leaning with crossed arms on the kitchen counter as before his face completely fell as you simply chuckled and said it didn't bother you at all.

"Seriously?" He asked in disbelief before grabbing his mug taking a few gulps before you widened your eyes and giggling "What are you laughing at?"

"Is just that mug was full of water early and maybe our little friend may have took a bath in it." Your boyfriend stood up so fast and soon you heard disgusting noises of vomiting .

"For god's sake KEIGO I WASHED IT!"

"I DONT CARE THAT THING SHOULDN'T BE BATHING ON MY STUFF WHAT THE HECK?!"

You sighed, waiting for your boyfriend to be back as you feed the little bird with some seeds carefully, soon being met with Keigo, still brushing his teeth.

"Drama king." You chuckled as he groaned "You know he is not a thing Kei, is a nightingale."

"Great knowing it." He said with a mouthful of toothpaste before spitting into the trash, saying something about not dirtying his bathroom with other birds germs or something.

He looked at you a bit in defeat at seeing you feeding the bird as you noticed his wings drooping a bit.

"What is wrong now bird brain?" You giggled at his expression.

"You should be feeding me ... your boyfriend." You snorted before picking a sunflower seed and showing it to him.

"I thought you didn't liked this stuff?" Yoh asked cheekily as he groaned.

"There is chicken, takoyaki, nuggets heck everything that I eat!"

The bird chirped and you nodded thoughtfully as he stared at you in confusion.

"Cannibalism. I agree."

"Oh cmon I thought we were over this..." he sighed before getting something from the fridge as he scowled at the chirps following after.

He glared at the bird chirping a song as you hummed in delight at the sound, staring lovely at the nightingale.

"Oh cmon Kei!" You poked his cheeks which was puffed "You have to admit is a amazing sound! Nightingales are famous for that!"

"Hawks are famous for other things too y'know?" He grumbled before widening his eyes at seeing you werent giving him attention, instead grabbing your phone and recording the nightingale's chirping.

"Hm? What did you say Kei?" You looked up at him with that smirk which made him scoff and stood up with crossed arms and going to the kitchen.

You stiffled your giggled, going to your pouting boyfriend and hugging him lovingly after putting the injured bird back to safety.

"You're really jealous huh?" You carresed his chest as he breathed in and out, cheeks red at being so obvious about his feelings.

"Is a form of flirting birds singing to their mates. That little shit." He mumbled, earning you a laugh that made him smile as feeling you peppering kisses all over his neck and jawline before he caught your lips with his.

You broke apart with a goofy smile as he chuckled before deadpanning at hearing chirps before puffing and straightening his wings on all glory before shouting at the nightingale:

"GO GET YOURSELF A PARTNER! THIS ONE IS TAKEN YOU PIECE OF CRAP!"

You never laughed so hard in your life. A sound that, for Keigo at least, was far more beautiful than any chirping, singing or melody on this whole world.

After a few days you saw Keigo's hatred for the nightingale easing slowly but surely. Yet you never thought that coming home late on one of Keigo's day off, you would see your boyfriend, layed on the couch with a finger up holding the bird he claimed to hate it and whistling some similiar tone along with the nightingale's chirping.

You stared in shock yet awe at the look of your boyfriend directed to the bird as the sounds came out of his lips before chuckling.

"Your wing soon will be better by the looks of it. Isn't (Y/n) a great nurse?" He mumbled, a sadness deep down on his gaze as he saw the bird clapping the wing that wasn't wrapped up "You got freedom and my dove's attention bud, how could you and (Y/n) not expect me to get jealous?" He chuckled sadly as you frowned, walking slowly towards him, pretending to not overheard his monologue.

"Hey pretty thing, back already?" His cheeky smile was back as you looked at it in awe before kneeling in front of the couch he was layed on and kissing him deeply, making him close his eyes in bliss and pull you closer with his free hand by the neck.

You broke apart as he panted with a glossy yet pleased look. Ignoring the chirps for a bit, you carresed his golden looks as he closed his eyes with a smile.

"Redeeming yourself for giving attention to this bird and not me for these past few weeks?" He murmured happily yet drowsily as you giggled and kissed his forehead softly.

"You could say that bird brain." You stopped for a bit, hearing him whine miserably for you to get back, cupping your hands for the bird to get in.

"Cmon..." he whined, arm dropped over his face as the other rested on him until he felt you tugging on his shirt.

"Just get up lazy, I'm giving you all the attention you want." At this, you saw his golden eyes practically glow in bliss as he stood up as fast as he could.

He stretched his arms as he sitted up on the bed. Hair untamed and eyes unfocused until they dropped on the bird that had exited his box and was flapping both of his wings. Both.

"Huh. You look all better." He smirked as he felt you shift and rest your chin on his shoulder with a drowsy look.

"Who is better?" You mumbled before he pointed at the bird jumping and trying to take flight.

"Your friend there." You squealead as hs chuckled, grabbing the nightingale in one hands as he unwrapped the the made up sling as he waited patiently for the little fella to flap its wings and fly just a few centimeters above his palm.

"Cmon dove." He ushered you to follow him on the balcony as he had a gentle hold on the nightingale "Go little buddy, being stuck on a unknown place forever isn't goog for anyone."

And with a little movement of his hand, the nightingale took flight with beautiful chirps that made you smile but soon look at your boyfriend with a sad smirk as he watched the little bird fly away.

It wasn't sadness because he got attached to the nightingale. It was because that, even a small bird as he, could be free and not him. A grow up man that had a partner but was still caged by the comission...

You carresed his arm before hugging it and placing a sweet kiss to his cheek which brought his attention back to you.

"How about some hot cocoa my handsome? You still got some minutes stuck with me until you go to work." You said softly in Hope's to cheer him up.

He looked at you in some sorta of shock before chuckling and bringing you close enough to him to hear his heart beat and feel his warm yet chapte lips on your forehead.

"Being stuck with you is the only way that keeps me going to be honest."

#hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #x reader #keigo takami x reader #hawks #keigo takami #bnha fanfiction #bnha fanfics #bnha heroes x reader #zuffer writings

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chocominnie · 3 years ago

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One Last Time 06 — Pjm. (M)

⇢ pairing: Jimin X Reader

⇢ Genre: Idol!Jimin, Exbf!Jimin, model!reader, sad au, fluff, tons of smut, angst

⇢ Synopsis: Your idol ex boyfriend Jimin cheated on you. You two have been broken up for a while now and the media has been keeping track of you and him. You’re trying to get over him, but the things that happen inbetween makes you re-think the entire breakup, and so does Jimin…

⇢ Song : xxxxx

⇢ Word Count : 3k

⇢ Warnings: dominant jimin, makeout sessions, this is honestly a sad angsty au, cheating, pregnancy, unprotected and protected sex, a bunch of sex, no really a LOT of sexual themes too, I know I’m forgetting some but sorry in advance!

⇢ Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken

⇢ Authors note: This is my mini series for the summer! Get your tissues, things to take your anger out on, and sit back and watch the drama unfold. Shall we begin?

‘‘ I swear I am going to have someone beat your ass Park Jimin!’’

‘‘ It’s not my fucking fault! I broke up with her but you lead her to the apartment knowing she’ll follow!’‘

‘‘ Damn it Jimin im going to kick your ass!’‘

Your eyes pop open just in time to see Jungkook on-top of Jimin hitting him repeatedly on the face while Jimin manages to push him off of him and begin his fist fight against him. He straddles Jungkook to the floor and punches are thrown left and right. Now the sudden headache of seeing the two brothers fight has began in your head and you cannot stand hearing the groaning and yelling between them. Bringing your hand up to signal them to stop, you realize they don’t even know you’ve awakened.

Jungkook on the other hand is not having it so he throws Jimin off of him harshly making Jimin groan. The way he grabs Jimin’s collar with venom fast strength finally gives you the courage to yell out to them.

‘‘ Stop! Damn it, you two are like literal fucking teenagers. Act your age!”

The both of them turn their heads toward you slowly. Jungkook drops his fist, which was going to connect with Jimin’s face. You take a good look at them. Freshly bruised from each-other. Great.

‘‘ You think fighting is going to solve this problem huh? Get over here now.” You say, eyebrows furrowed in anger.

Jungkook gives Jimin a death glare before rushing to your side and feeling your forehead. You slap his hand away and pull him down by his shirt only for him to recieve a harsh slap to the forehead.

‘‘ Shit!” He stumbles back and rubs his forehead. He shoots you a glare, wanting to yell at you but doesn’t. You motion for Jimin to come to you too. He raises his eyebrows in amusement.

‘‘ I don’t think it’s necessary for you to do that..” He says, as if your death glare towards him isn’t enough to tell him you aren’t joking whatsoever.

He gets the memo when you disregard his comments before hanging his head low and bending down a little to your height. One slap against the forehead and two across the wrists.

‘‘ That’s for you fighting He was only looking out for me. The last two were for having a psychotic girlfriend who almost killed me. Look at my wrist!’‘

You hold them out to see two I.V’s, one for blood transfusion and the other a regular for nutrients on your right wrist. Both of them bandaged up which does need to be changed because of the old blood.

‘‘ I know and I’m sorry. I didn’t know she would be this upset.’‘ Jimin says, hanging his head low. Jungkook rolls his eyes at him out of annoyance.

‘‘ Whatever. I already called my lawyer for your case. Since Isabel tried to attempt murder to you, you will win this case for sure.’‘ He proudly leans against the wall hoping to atleast crack a smile from you.

You don’t smile though. The last thing you need is another scandal. If this were to make the news and blogs right now then it could be a bad thing. You’ve just started your modeling career again and right now would be the worst time to have something like that.

Jimin leans on the wall with his hands in his pockets, still avoiding locking eyes with you which is something he usually does. Something tells you that he’s hiding something. Something that you just can’t put your finger on.

‘‘ The police will come shortly for witness statements and your statement. Then they’ll call for a court date as soon as possible.’‘ Jimin’s voice low, illuminating with a hint of sadness.

Out of curiosity you want to say something more. To ask him whats going on and why he’s acting rather like this. It’s really not like him. He’s hiding something for sure and you just cannot put your finger on it. You just agree and pull out your phone. A missed call from Ryan. You try texting her and she almost always responds immediately. This time she doesn’t. What’s really going on?

You don’t know but Ryan took it upon herself to pay Isabel a visit. Usually visitors aren’t allowed for people in holding but with a little sweet talk of hers she got to get atleast 10 minutes to talk. That’s all she needs. When it comes to you, her bestfriend, she never messes around. Hearing the news from Jungkook yesterday she almost went luncatic. Throwing things at him, calling his brother every disrespectful name in the book. Oh she hates him now for sure.

Jungkook had to stop her from going over to the hospital to beat his ass into a bloody pulp for causing you pain and getting together with that crazy girl just to break up with her. Ryan was heated.

But now she can take this heat and serve some to Isabel right now. She walks with confidence into the room. Nothing and nobody can stop her and if they even try, she’ll chew them up and spit them out. Catching a glimpise of Isabel sitting at the table with her hands cuffed and security next to her, Ryan shoots her a devious glare.

‘‘ What brings you here? I expected my boyfr-’‘

A harsh slam from her hands hit the table as she bends a little to her seated level, ‘‘ He’ not your fucking boyfriend. You were lucky I wasn’t there to beat your fucking ass.”

The guard tenses up at the sounds and sudden movements. Ryan notices, and decides to take her seat to calm down before she’s the one sitting behind the jail bars too.

‘‘ Ryan.. I thought we were friends?’‘ She frowns, pouting her lips while fake wiping tears away.

Ryan scoffs,shaking her head ever so slowly with a devilish grin on her face. “ We aren’t. Don’t let me catch you un-attended without your manager or body guard.. Isabel.’’

Isabel laughs one of her evil laughs, throwing her head back then coming back up, “ Oh how cute. Is this a threat from little ol’ you? Me and Jimin were doing just fine before your bestfriend had decided to enter his life again. I’m not the only bad guy here. She should know boundaries for taken men. Ex’s aren’t supposed to be firendly and lovey dovey. Spending nights and going everywhere with each other. Especially when one’s a famous idol with another idol girlfriend. Do I make myself clear?”

“ Maybe you should take that up with your hoe of a boyfriend. He’s the one who can’t leave her alone.” She yells, inches away from Isabel’s face. The two stare at each other long and hard. Isabel is no match for Ryan though.

The guard clears his throat to break the two’s glares. The tension is thick in the air.

“ If you ever touch yn again, I’ll make sure you’re the one in the hospital this time around.”

‘‘ You’ll all see. I’ll win this court case. Trust me… there’s things you do not know.”

Ryan rolls her eyes, strutting her way out the room with the sound of her heels clicking right behind her. Consider the message recieved.

It’s been one week after the situation. In which in between those days you were dismissed from the hospital and have been in at Jimin’s house ever since. You didn’t want to be here. You want to be at home with your cat, Clara. Jungkook’s been going over to feed and play with her. Jimin kept pleading for you not to return home just yet because it could be a danger to you. It makes sense. You never know what Isabel has up her sleeve.

So you’ve been sitting here doing the same old thing everyday. Eat, watch movies and netflix tv shows, sleep, and repeat.

Jimin would come in and out of his home studio to check in on you. He still has to work on producing and singing his songs. He’d bring the food and your medicine he prepared per usual, kiss your forehead, and go right back out to producing his highly anticipated album.

It all seems fake to you. Something is off. Something is not being told to you. You can feel it in your gut but can’t put a finger on it.

‘‘ This is so cliche.’‘ You murmur to yourself, switching the flat-screen T.V off.

And as if on cue Jimin comes inside your- well his room with a glass of water and prescribed pain killers for you. The slight smile on his face makes you want to smile but you don’t.

‘‘ Smile for ocne yn. Do you not like staying here?’‘ He says, sitting next to you on the side of the bed and places the glass in your hands.

You furrow your eyebrows at him, taking the two pills out of his palm. “ No.. but be honest with me Jimin okay?”

His face turns a quick shade of pink then pale as if you had said the wrong choice of words at the wrong time. As if he had seen a ghost at this very moment. That’s not a good sign at all.

‘‘ Are you.. hiding something from me?’‘

The atmosphere is thick and silence fills the room. You don’t say anything and he doesn’t either. Your eyes meet his and for once they don’t pull away first.

Jimin doesn’t know how to break it to you though. It’s now or never.

‘‘ She will never leave me.”

You bite your lip hard, “ What do you mean?”

“ That she said that she’d do everything to ruin our relationship if we continue to persue one. She’d spready rumors about you to Dispatch. Make a scene whenver you’re near me. Anything she can do, she will do it.”

You don’t know how to take this all in. You knew Isabel was possesive but not this possesive. The thought of her doing things on purpose for you to make everyone hate you makes you want to cry. To just bawl your eyes out right here right now. You can’t.. you won’t do it.

You won’t give in because thats what she wants. To make you cry. To ruin your reputation and work. Jimin came back into your life and of course you don’t know what to do or how to deal with it. But this is what you wanted right? You’ve been longing for you and him to get a second chance. It’s you. You’re the one who’s been putting things off and not letting things go with the flow. Maybe he came back to you because he realized how wrong he was for cheating on you. For leaving you behind. For not seeing things for truly how it is.

You knew Isabel was bad luck from the beginning. Now is the time to try and take back what was originally yours. That will hurt her more than ever.

“ She needs to have a reality check. Not everything revolves around her.”

‘‘ I agree. Putting her behind bars might give her a reality check. It should serve her right for harming people.” Jimin sighs.

The silence is thick. You both don’t know what to say and it’s sure as hell awkward more than ever right now. Until that silence breaks.

‘‘ I feel like you aren’t being your true self to me. If we are getting things out now.”

His sudden comment makes you lift your head up from playing with the comforter. “ What do you mean?’’

‘‘ You.. don’t want to take actions on what you feel, say, or want to do with or about me. It’s killing me inside.”

He’s right. You do try to push your feelings aside no matter what the cause is. It’s just you trying to not set yourself up for hearbreak again. You do want him. You do want everything to do with him. Considering the things that happened in the past, it’s no doubt theres a fence guarding your heart from intruders.

You exhale out heavily, “ Im just.. scared.’’

‘‘ Of? “

‘‘ Being hurt again.”

Dead silence again. This time he’s the one trying to come up with words to redirect your view of him. Yes, he broke your heart in the worst way possible. He wants you to see he’s changed.

Jimin bites his lip, voice shaky when he begins talking again. ‘‘ How can I show you that i’m not the same anymore. Im not I promise you. I want you to see I have changed. I know it’s my fault. I destroyed you but let me fix it.”

It’s all come down to this. You’ve wanted this and now is the chance to get it. Now is the chance to have what was once yours. But the feeling of doubt had taken its course on you at the worst time.

‘‘ Jimin.. how do I know that for sure?’‘ You say, unintentionally fluttering your eyes at him. To you it’s to prevent from letting tears fall.

Jimin see’s it as that specific thing you used to do when you wanted him. When you craved him and would drop hints. To be completely honest, you do crave him. You do want him. Make-up sex was something you two used to do often. It was your toxic way of saying im sorry.

Somehow you want to put that toxic thing into action right now. As fucked up as it is, that’s how you two know you’re sorry towards each other. Actions speak louder than words.

He closes his eyes for a quick second before clenching his jaw to contain himself. Your weak spot.

‘‘ Stop doing that. Unless you want to start something you don’t want to finish.”

You smile just a little, hoping he’d get the memo. “ What if I do want to start and finish it..”

As if a car alarm went off, Jimin’s eyes pop back open with a suprised look. That’s the last thing he’d thought he’d be hearing from you. “ Are you sure about that? I mean we don’t have t-”

You lean in closer to where you guys are inches apart, his lips softly rubbing against yours. “ I’m all for it.”

Within seconds, Jimin’s shirt is removed off of you only revealing your blue panties which have became a little soaked with your wetness. He takes in the scent of you before his mouth connects with your thighs, slightly sucking to leave bruises on you.

‘‘ Jimin.. don’t tease me.” You sigh, laying fully down to spread your legs even more. He hums against your skin making you catch chills up and down your spine.

‘‘ That’s my specialty baby. You know that.” He trails a kiss with each word all the way down to your core where he dips a finger inside. You tense up attempting to close your legs. He doesn’t allow it, spreading them open harshly again.

‘’ Jimin-’‘ You barely utter before he begins to move his fingers in and out of you slowly. You let out a whine to try and make him go faster but it doesn’t work.

He comes up to your mouth and plants a wet, sloppy kiss. “ No whining. You’re gonna get what you want. Just relax baby.”

Is all he tells you before he goes back down to your core to tend to your desires.

The first lick between your legs is ever so gentle. Too gentle for you right now considering that you want release badly and Jimin knew exactly that. He opens his mouth and swirls his tongue up and down your slit. A groan leaves his mouth once he gets a taste of you which sends a vibration to your sensitive bud.

Each time his tongue laps against you your body jerked and shook but that only makes his tongue go faster. Sending you into a moaning and groaning mess as you tug on his hair.

“Mmh you even taste the same like always.” He moans with a smirk.

“Jimin please-” you cry out, locking your fingers into his hair when a finger is inserted into your dripping wet hole.

‘‘ No whining babygirl.’‘ His voice gentle as ever when he removes the finger inside of you making you pout a little. But that pout soon turned into your eyes becoming wide when he starts to take off his shirt, then grey sweatpants, then his underwear where his thick cock springs up.

Your eyes can’t leave his body. God it’s been a while. He looks pretty damn good. You wan’t to take all of his length in your mouth right now. To hear him praise you about how good your mouth feels against him. God you want it right now.

He gives it a few strokes before walking over to you. Just before hovering over you, he gives you a passionate kiss while lifting up your legs and positioning them to his liking. Missionary.

The tip of him pokes at the entrance of you, teasing in and out. Soon enough he enters you slowly making both of you moan together.

You still wrap and fit around his member smug as ever, and he could not believe it. The feeling of familiarity of being inside you sends him into a moaning mess with each stroke. You can’t contain your moans and screams. He feels way too good.

Jimin begins to deep-stroke you by pulling all the way out and slamming back in. You scream his name out in pleasure as your nails scratch up his toned back. Wet sounds fill the room with him picking up his pace. You take a glimpse of him only to admire his figure right now. Forehead forming sweat beads while he groans and moans biting his plump pink lips.

Your breathing becomes faster when that familiar feeling soon starts to take over. You turn your head to the side and let out a string of moans. Jimin isn’t having that though. His hand grabs your face gently and makes you make eye contact with him. Your legs start shaking as your head tilts back moans getting more faster. You finally let out one last one in sync with him, his hot sperm shoots inside of you.

Jimin pulls out, breathing heavily and collapses ontop of you. You let out a small grunt with the sudden extra body upon you, then giggle at him when he lays his head lays against your chest. This is what you wanted. He’s true. He’s sorry.

‘’ I love you.”

That word surprises you. You weren’t prepared for it. Somehow though, you enjoy the fact that he’s said it to you. Love. Jimin’s love. Your love.

‘’ I love you much more Jimin.’’

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sandwich2451 · 2 years ago

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The Violinist, chapter 1: The Meet-And-Greet

1. The Meet-And-Greet "A memory would be enough."

Vezi first saw Wednesday Addams in the courtyard. And Vezi thought she was terrifying.

Her neat braids, her straight posture, her pale skin, her dark eyes - everything about her screamed perfect. And the way she stared apathetically at other students? Terrifying. As if she didn't care. Jesus, she probably liked that they thought she was weird. Long story short, Vezi decided to steer clear of Wednesday Addams.

But, oh how fun, Ajax is an idiot, and Vezi would pay for it. He immediately walked up to Enid, not seeing Wednesday who oh so clearly stood behind his crush.

"Yo, Enid!" he started. "You're not going to believe the dirt I heard about your new roommate." Vezi grimaced as he continued: "She eats human flesh. Totally chowed down on that kid she murdered" Vezi sighed as Enid stepped aside to show Wednesday glaring at Ajax. "You are such a dumbass," Vezi whispered under her breath.

"Quite the contrary," Wednesday said. Damn it, her voice? Vezi thought to herself. "I fillet the bodies of my victims, then feed them to my menagerie of pets." An uncomfortable silence ensued.

"Ajax, Vezi, meet my new roommate, Wednesday." Vezi wanted to sink into the ground. "Nice to meet you," she said instead. Ajax only stared in half-fear-half-curiosity. "You're in black and white," he said in awe. Or in fear. Vezi couldn't tell. "Like a living Instagram filter-"

"Ignore him," Enid said, cutting him off. Vezi groaned at his idiocy. "Gorgons spend way too much time getting stoned." Vezi blinked at Ajax as he walked away, but didn't move. What the fuck?

"He's cute, but clueless," Enid continued. Wednesday raised an eyebrow and Vezi tried to leave, but Enid clutched her arm. "But this is Vezi - she's, like, Xavier's female counterpart. Another tortured artist." Wednesday didn't react at all at Enid's introduction. Vezi raised an eyebrow. "Tortured artist's how you describe Xavier? More like antisocial hopeless romantic with a touch of toxicity." "He's not that bad," Enid said, but she left the topic and turned to Wednesday again.

"You should get an Instagram account, you know. And of course, Tiktok, Snapchat, BeReal. The works." Wednesday remained eerily poised. "I find social media to be a soul-sucking void of meaningless affirmation," she responded dryly and walked away.

"Well, good luck with her," Vezi commented once Wednesday was out of earshot. "Seems like a handful." Enid laughed. "I'll get her to befriend me. Wait and see." "Uh-huh, and I'll find a partner in the next two weeks." Enid frowned. "You're still hung-up on Yoko?" "Not my fault she's really pretty. How was I supposed to know she was taken and would never date someone with four arms?"

"It's not the weirdest thing in the world, you know," Enid muttered. Vezi scoffed. "Oh okay, miss I-have-a-crush-on-a-gorgon. They have snakes for hair, and four arms are weird? They're artificial. Basically magical prosthetics, really." "Still," Enid said. "You're one of the few types of outcast with more than the average limb-count." "All those snakes have brains, and yet Ajax can't keep up with one conversation." "That's because he's stoned, Vezi." "Still."

« »

Vezi has never liked Xavier. Well, in her first year he was alright. They sat together in herbology, and it was fun to discuss their similar power - 'gift', whatever. And, well, he did know Yoko through Bianca. That was a plus at the time.

But some fun, dramatic shit happened, and now, long story short, they didn't sit together in herbology - mostly to do with the Nightshades, actually. Vezi still has access to the library (because it's not like they changed the password) though, so sometimes she gets caught and has to go through the whole I'm-not-a-nightshade-but-fuck-you-you-don't-read-the-books-anyway. The Nightshades really should get another lock.

But putting the drama aside, the reason Xavier was brought up was that they were fencing together. Paired up by the teacher, not Vezi's first choice - Xavier still seemed to like her enough. They parried half-heartedly for a while. Fencing wasn't Vezi's strongest suit - she didn't see it as the most practical. Also, she had to modify her suit herself for her second set of arms, which annoyed her. Her school uniform, at least, was modified for her.

Vezi won, but only because Xavier stopped parrying her attacks at all. She looked to the left and saw why. Wednesday.

The second time Vezi saw Wednesday, she was in all black and white again. She'd had a black fencing suit made for her, apparently. She strode towards the mats on which Bianca was fencing with Rowan, helmet in her hand. Bianca had beat Rowan - he'd gone to sit on the side, watching Bianca call out if anyone would challenge her.

Wednesday didn't miss a beat. "I do," she said. Vezi looked at Xavier, who was practically making heart-eyes at Wednesday. "She's been here for a less than a day," Vezi commented. "We have history," Xavier said. "Like we had history? You mean you met once and you decided to fall in love because she's pretty and perfect." Xavier raised an eyebrow. "Pretty and perfect? And I'm the one with a crush." "Shut it, tortured artist."

« »

The third time Vezi saw Wednesday Addams, she actually heard her first.

As a musical person, she was very attentive to music. Very often, if someone played their music a decibel too loud, she'd stay awake all night listening to it, or accidentally make it appear. She'd had butter appear because of an ARMY, which wasn't that bad. She'd also, however, had accidentally made three students severe alcoholics because someone had decided to be edgy. They dropped out last year.

The sounds of a cello reverberated around the castle - specifically a rendition of Paint it Black, Vezi noted. It was difficult to control her gift sometimes - tonight was one of those nights.

She immediately went out onto her balcony. Her roommate wasn't there - a gorgon called Mel. Must've slipped out to, well, get stoned. The way Wednesday played was beautiful - the notes even, the crescendos and diminuendos artfully executed. Splotches of black spaint started appearing on her balcony - first in the corners, then growing onto the railing, shining as it dried. As the song continued, black splotches started appearing on the grass in the courtyard as well - first only dots that were almost indistinguishable, then they started appearing more, forming letters. "Damn it," Vezi whispered. She'd have to explain to whoever, and she'd have to clean it up in the morning. Or she could just put a song on and do it later tonight. Still, it left an impression. The words made a fairly predictable sentence -

Paint It Black was written on the courtyard in thick black paint. The music swelled to an ending. At least that was done. She quickly got to work to turn on a song that could make the grass green again - and her balcony. Well, her and Mel's. She'd have to explain in the morning.

« »

[Transcript of Enid's Vlog]

It's not everyday your new roommate plays a song and the title of it appears on the grass while she's playing. I can't imagine anyone who would actually like her - I mean really? The half-dead thing does it for you? I won't judge really, but still. It's kind of weird isn't it? Xavier was painting in the courtyard - you've seen his new piece of course, on the wall. But he says he saw Vezi, you know, the music girl, on her balcony, and she seemed to be listening pretty intensely! Apparently, the song was 'Paint it Black', by the way, I forgot to mention that. Very fitting, seeing as it is Wednesday playing - she got her own school uniform to be monochrome! Special treatment, I say. But I'm cutting it here. See you till the next video!

#wednesday addams #wednesday #wednesday netflix #enid sinclair #xavier thorpe #tyler galpin #oc #fanfiction #fanfic

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wackybuddiemewbs · 2 years ago

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Random ramblings about 06x07

After my memefication of the events is now mostly dealt with (thank goodness, but I needed to get those out of the system first), I'm still very much confused and intrigued by the setup done in “Cursed”.

Sure enough, this episode was supposed to be a lighter one. We had a lot of good fun in that, but the episode provides great setup for the drama that's sure about to unfold further along the season.

So here I'm gathering some more or less coherent thoughts on the matter. Though I seriously don't know where all of this is headed. But here's to hoping anyway.

Connor and Kameron, desperation, grifters, and all of the awkward

I know others as well as me have joked about this, but those two are exceptionally weird when it comes to the sperm donation. Now, it's possible there was nothing grander to it, and the writers just wanted things to be extra awkward for laughs, by having them wind up at the station to have the firefam in the know (also… Shannon/Eddie parallels much, huh?).

Like, it's effective. All people who may have something to say about the matter find out at once, and we don't “need” separate conversations to have that unfold (aka saving screen time). It's economic in that way. So it's well possible that it was not supposed to be off-putting or whatever else. Just really awkward and quick to have everyone up to speed.

But. Holy crap. That was just soooooo weird.

As others have noted, they continue to be pushy, acting all the while like they aren't being pushy. Again, I don't know if the show's gonna make anything of that, other than to highlight their desperation to have a child? Like, wanting to highlight that they don't want to go through the process again, now that they found someone who said he'd volunteer to donate. But. If the show wants to go down another route, well… perfect setup for that, too, I guess.

I don't believe Connor and Kameron will turn out to be evil sperm thieves (hehe). They just really want to have that baby. But they are extremely pushy in their pursuit, and it might be that the show highlights how Buck is especially vulnerable to that. So Connor and Kameron may (unconsciously) feed into that or may even take advantage of it, to a certain degree. And the show might actually decide to show how harmful that can be, even if they do not intend it. As Athena pointed out:

“The best grifters know how to play on people's desperation. The more desperate a person is, the easier it becomes to fool them.”

Now, again, I don't believe in evil sperm thieves here, just like I don't believe in bad intent on Connor's and Kameron's behalf (yet). But I can see this as a kind of foreshadowing/allusion to what's going on with Buck. And yes, here I go again, outing myself as a Buck Breakdown Truther until proven otherwise. I could see two scenarios in particular to get the job done right (or wrong), based on Athena's words that may come back to haunt Buck this season:

Connor and Kameron may (unconsciously) pressure Buck all the while yelling “no pressure though”, thereby actually creating more pressure for him than is necessary. It was the second time we've seen them do it with Buck, and Buck reacting the same way each time. Which is not to say I don't get the desperation they must feel. But it's very much in-tune for Buck to try to please them as a result and jump ahead, to be of service to them, to help them. So instead of giving him the freedom of choice and space for proper reflection, they are (unconsciously) backing him into a corner. Or perhaps more to the point: They are feeding right into so many of Buck's issues, likely without knowing it. And that may impact him very negatively moving forward. Thus far, every interaction we've seen between them was inherently about them. Even if they genuinely seemed to try to give Buck the free choice, they always circle back to their desperation to have the child. Again, I don't believe they do it consciously, necessarily. If you want something that much, it's the only thing you can think about. But turned around to Buck, that means that every meaningful interaction he's had thus far with the people he's making a great sacrifice for… it was never about him, it is never about him. It is only about his function to them as a donor. That is why Connor originally reached out to him, and as Hen pointed out, they will in all likability expect him to not have any place in their future (and more importantly in that of the child). In that way, they play on Buck's desperation to help them, out of their desperation to have a child. And I can very well see that this might be a route the writers might take all the same.

Buck is his very own grifter in this scenario. Buck is desperate for happiness, to finally get to the point where he is “at peace”. And he wants to believe that helping those two have a baby and build the future they always wanted will do the trick for him. To do something selfless, like Lev did, and then finally have that epiphany about what it is that makes him truly happy. For that, he is taking all of that pressure, and ignores all of those red flags and warning signs the whole damn universe seems to throw his way. Buck is fooling himself into believing that this is truly what he wants (at least at this point, though it might turn out later that he really is at peace with that, but he certainly isn't right now, he's just stubbornly refusing to reflect it on it any further, so not to be swayed). He is genuine in his wish to help them (have the baby). He knows that much, because he knows that they want that child (quick side note: I guess there might also be some level of Daniel trauma in there. Because here he has people who want a baby for the sake of the baby, unlike his parents, who wanted to have a baby for the purpose of saving their other child. And oh my, see who's coming back this season…).

In either scenario, Buck is likely to be left the fool, not necessarily because he's getting grifted, but because either they or he himself are actively helping him self-deprecate. Or at the least, that's a route the show might be taking on this one. And I'm dying to find out.

Buck's troubled relationship with his body

To send this ahead: There's soooooo much more to say about Buck's self-image and his relationship with his body, but for now, I'll just focus on it in relation to this season's arc.

While we mostly started out lightly regarding the matter, I found it almost jarring how much Buck's relationship with his own body came back into full swing ever since Connor and Kameron asked him to donate. All the while watching him reflecting on it drunkenly with Hen, then again with the puréed greens to deliver the best swimmers in the world… I can see this heading to a much darker place, moving forward.

Others have already pointed to the close connection to Buck's speech after the Daniel reveal, about defective parts and all. Which was another blow (alongside the reveal itself and its ramifications). Because Buck is very self-conscious when it comes to his body. So realizing that his body wasn't good enough, was “defective”, is a whole different story for someone like him.

Since early childhood, his body was a means to an end. To get attention from his parents, by getting hurt. Later on, numerous flings to satisfy the need and to please others, to be good for others, to feel his own body, to have all involved feel happy and content. To be good enough. Again, a means to an end (chasing meaningful connections by providing gratifying sex, by pleasing his partners and being praised for it). He prides himself on his physicality, noting to Bobby back in season 1 how he never had trouble with the physical aspects of training to become a Navy SEAL, but what that would have demanded of him psychologically and emotionally. To name but few examples.

Along those lines, he's been on the optimizing route, well before he started on the green menace for over a month. Buck talking to the guy with the tapeworm back in season 1, conversing about how to optimize body fat ratios or whatever else. Buck wanting to be the “bestestest boi and patient” by adapting his diet, back when he had the blood clots and wanted to prove that he (his body) was capable, functional, of use, for the one thing he found meaningful in his life. AKA being a firefighter. Now again with the green smoothies and his abstinence, to be the best donor ever. To please, to be good enough, or rather, better than good enough.

Interestingly, all of those measures hardly seem to be about himself and doing things to feel good about himself, as himself, but more about optimizing his body for the sake of others. Being muscular and good-looking for hookups – it's about being appealing to them. Adapting his diet and making a show of it – it was to convince Bobby, among others, of his health and thus use as a firefighter. Drinking green smoothies and being abstinent for extended periods of time – it is for Connor and Kameron, to give them “best chances of success”. Not once did I get the vibe of Buck doing this to feel good about himself, to feel comfortable in his own skin, literally. Instead, he is making himself miserable, longing for more. Or, as Hen so eloquently pointed out:

“Buck, your idea of healthy is a side salad. When did puréed greens become a whole main meal?”

Yet again, interestingly, he often winded up failing with his self-optimization when it came to his body. All the healthy diet didn't get him his job back. The hookups may have gotten him appreciation for his performance, but the partners didn't stick around. Even Abby didn't stick around, even though he tried to support her not just physically throughout. And with the green smoothies and the abstinence… again, as others have noted, him trying so hard to be the best donor may have made the donation worse. He's trying sooooo hard that it backfires on him (i.e. having stayed abstinent for so long may have made the “swimmer count” reduce rather than increase, as far as I understood).

Now, if that's the narrative route they want to focus on, it could go three ways in my head (yeah, yeah, always thinking threeways, yo):

The donation isn't deemed “good enough” and they will ask him to donate again, and just stay clear from wanking for a week, not four (jizz I mean jeez). Which may either serve as a catalyst for Buck to really consider this, rather than jumping ahead in his pursuit to use his body for other peoples' benefit. Or it may feed right into his fears of his body not sufficing (or maybe a combination of both). This may force Buck to continue to put himself physically and emotionally through all that again, not for his sake, but that of others, making it less and less about his choice and more and more about needing his body to function, no matter what.

Buck turns out to share in Connor's issue, namely not enough swimmers. That'd fit just about half of Buck's insecurities. In that his body would not suffice to help. That his body is not good enough to do something he wanted (or thought he wanted) so desperately that he damn well ran to the clinic to jerk off into a plastic cup. To top all that, it'd mean that all the things he thought were “still in store” for him (as he alluded to when talking to Lev) are suddenly out the window. Namely, starting a family of his own, fathering children that are inherently his, finding true peace. So any “hope” Buck would have had to finally get to where Connor and Kameron are right now, already knowing what they want and with whom they want to have it with, is suddenly gone. And it'd be his own body that's always supposed to function that'd keep him from it. His own body would betray him in that way. Defective parts.

Buck turns out ineligible (e.g. due to the cancer in his family history or because of some other health issues Buck may not have been aware of). Either because the clinic advises against it, or Connor and Kameron back off when they get word of it. They may reconsider on “only” choosing someone who's supposedly very healthy in contrast to someone who's very good of character, as Connor insisted to Buck, if Buck has some health issue that he might pass down to the child. That would throw him for a complete loop, too. Because health is not supposed to be an issue for him. He is capable, after all, right? Right? He's good enough for that, right? Right?

Either scenario circles back to Buck's troubled relationship with his own body, in that his body is a means to an end for him. If he can't serve the means, then what is his body good for? If it can't create future, if it can't help, if it's not enough, how is he good enough (for his own happiness)? That would deliver great material for a potential breakdown for him.

And resolution can only come (pun not intended) if Buck manages to reconcile with his own body being as it is, accepting it as it is, and no longer regarding it as integral to his self-worth. That being at peace with what he has and is doesn't just relate to a couch or lack thereof, but to him being at peace with what he is, what his body is, instead of chasing unachievable standards and chasing praise and appreciation by means of his own body.

If that's the route they are taking, I do believe Eddie's role in that realization process will be of great importance. Eddie has proven to be one of the few people who get through to Buck when he's really far lost in his head. He already brought the point home about him not being expandable (and in that sense putting his body at risk for the sake of others unnecessarily). So the twist might be along the lines of: Buck realizing his body isn't any more expendable than anyone else's because Buck's body contains something invaluable, namely the person he is. His body is there to protect that invaluable core, not the other way around. And Eddie as his best friend (and love of his life and original baby trapper before Connor and Kameron got the idea, yo), as the person to address Buck like that back in season 4… it might bring this full circle for Buck at long last.

And yeah, that makes Buddie confirmation a very likely scenario in my head, as the conclusion of that arc. It'd just fit so damn neatly, if you think about it. Because Buck's first encounter with Eddie was so very physical (or rather, Buck made it about that, because that's what it's been for him for almost all of his life). And for that man (Eddie) to turn out to truly appreciate and love Buck for who he is, no matter what his body is like or what “functions” it may serve… that'd just be *chef's kiss*. The perfect reversal of all those other relationships Buck's had, where people got to appreciate his physicality before they could appreciate the person living inside it. Only for Eddie to step into his life (and staying there) to see past that, and immediately see the good and valuable person that's underneath it all. And to love him for it. Like, that would be build-up straight for the heavens.

This is fine… until it isn't

Yet another way this could go is that they don't go there at all, that the donation is indeed good enough. All swimmers are where they belong, and they are healthy and plenty. But it may still bite Buck on the perky butt. Either because it sinks in for him at long last what it means to be “donor, not dad”, and how he is actually not ready for that. Or because Connor and Kameron bail out. Again, two scenarios come to my mind:

The donation is done, the procedure works, Kameron becomes pregnant. The two thank Buck and bid him farewell. And Buck's left metaphorically standing in the rain, when they make clear what Hen warned him about: That they won't be seeing much of each other again in the future, that they won't stay in touch. Maybe a Christmas card at best. And that's what may crack Buck open like an egg at long last. Because before, it was all just hypothetical. But now it's fact. The proof is there that this is a part of him he'll never see grow, a part of him he'll never know. And he may try his best to be fine with it, just that he isn't.

The donation is done, but it's not needed anymore. Kameron winds up pregnant despite Connor's little team of swimmers. Now that the “pressure” was off of them and on Buck, maybe the swimmers finally had some fun. They are happy as they can be, having a child of their own at long last. And Buck is sure to be happy for them. Maybe he even thinks “dodged a bullet there, upon reflection”. But then it dawns on him. Here we go again. He was not chosen. Despite being the best donor, despite doing everything right, Connor and Kameron didn't really need him in the end. And that might be just as devastating as a scenario wherein he can't donate, or a donation won't do the trick.

Again, both scenarios could very well lead to a serious breakdown in the aftermath. Even though Buck may very well try to keep himself together, to appear to be fine (as Maddie noted once), even though he isn't.

Because Buck seemingly tries to find happiness through other peoples' happiness (and their knowledge of what constitutes it for them). But we might see Connor and Kameron get their happiness without his help, leaving him none the wiser about what makes him truly happy, or even worse, leaving him unhappier than before.

Yet again, with Buddie goggles on (they are fancy, what can I say?), I think Eddie would be the one person to get through to him in that mess. Buck trying to seem fine, continuing to try to brush it off, even though he's coming apart by the seams. It'd be very much in-tune with how we got several instances by now that had Eddie (as well as the others) notice that Buck's acting off. Be it spacing out or drinking green smoothies (even though Eddie was definitely not just checking the smoothie in that shot, yo).

They are a (family) unit. Everyone is aware of that, which is why Eddie as well as the others assume he should know what's going on, though he doesn't. If Buck continues to hide things (like the donation), I do believe we might get Eddie forcing his way in at long last. Before, he likely respected Buck's decision (also something something about Eddie respecting Buck's (bodily) autonomy and his decisions in ways his parents never ever did or even could). But if it's no longer about that, Eddie may very well occupy that space again and force his way in, like Buck did when he broke down the door to get to him when he hit rock-bottom.

Buck, the backup plan

One of the many elephants in the room is the discussion of the will. Eddie hasn't brought it back up yet, neither has Buck, but this whole sperm donation arc would be perfect for it to come back full swing. Because here we have Buck as the literal backup plan for Kameron and Connor, who tried to get pregnant but couldn't, so now they are looking at Buck to fill the spot (by filling a cup).

While Eddie was able to drive the point home about Buck being inherently valuable aka not expendable, I do believe we might get some more introspection of Buck. Namely, that his takeaway of the legal guardianship is not just Eddie's trust in him to watch out for what's most important in his life (his son), in the event that something should happen to him. But that it is also: I'm the backup. I'm not the first choice. I'm the choice in case things go wrong.

And if that's what Buck comes out of regarding the sperm donation, that will force Eddie to have that conversation. And it may very well lead to him being forced into some more reflection of his own. Because the other elephant in the room is what it means to him that he named Buck Christopher's legal guardian. What does it mean to him emotionally to rely on someone who blindly with his most important thing, his future? Why is that he can so blindly rely on Buck, when he won't believe in curses, jinxes, or fate? Yes, he got “proof” for Buck's love and care for Christopher. That's what solidified the choice for him, and wherein he continues to be proven right. But. What does it say about you, Eddie? What does it say about you feel for Buck, by entrusting him with that which you love the most in the world? Hm?

To finally end this madness

I think I confused myself and y'all enough with this rambling, so I will now conclude this post with reaffirming my belief in:

Buck Breakdown Era is coming (pun definitely intended).

Eddie will be a key figure in helping Buck navigate that.

This may very well solidify Buddie in the near future.

We have great opportunity to bring the will back into play at long last.

And I have no clue what will become of Buck's lil' swimmers.

And I guess, that's good. For now anyway. Though I guess I might ramble some more. It's what I do, what can I say? Anywho.

Cheers!

#buddie #911 spoilers #911 season 6 #911 season 6 spoilers #evan buckley #eddie diaz #ramblings #that are random

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theghostofblackbunnymask · 3 years ago

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Welcome To The Bunny Cult Writing Event!

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What's The Bunny Cult Writing Event?

The Bunny Cult Writing Event is celebration of Black Bunny Mask (Also known as Ghost/Bell) hitting 400+ followers!

What's In The Event?

This event will allow Yandere DSMP writers to write from one of the many AUs and Prompts.

How Can I Join The Event?

You'll have to tell me in my inbox (Not as a anom) and tell me which AU/Prompt you'll be doing and which characters will be in the story.

And once the story is finished you have to tag me so I can add you to the list of people who participated

Will There Be Winners?

Nope! This is mainly for fun for people in the Yandere DSMP community and the DSMP community in general. You can be competitive with your friends if you want to though.

Rules

1: You can't do a prompt someone else already took

2: If you don't want to be in the event anymore, please DM me in my inbox so I can take you take you off of the list

3: NO SMUT (Smut can be implied, but not full on smut, and can only be done with people who are ok with smut) OR PREGNANT READERS

4:Don't be toxic or bring in drama, this is all for fun and I don't want negativity during this celebration

5:Please don't make fun of others writings or grammar.

6:Polyamorous relationships are allowed and encourages

7: No yandere Philza

8: AUs are reusable, if someone chose the Purge AU you can still do it

AUs

Royalty AU

High School AU

Mafia AU

Cult AU

God AU

College AU

Boy/Girl Band AU

Fantasy AU

Murder Mystery AU

Apocalypse AU

Coffee Shop AU

Angel and Demons AU

Dystopian AU

Sea Creatures AU

Mythology AU

Pirate AU

Medieval AU

Purge AU

Aggresive/Harsh Prompts

The ones below are by @dearyscribbles

•"You act like you hold any control over me. If you try to run, I'll make sure the only way you'll be able to eat is through a feeding tube"

•"What? What will you do help them? Beg me not to go? Scream at me to leave them alone? Fight me? The best thing you can do is behave, just like the pathetic bitch you are"

•"You know, maybe, just maybe, if you LISTENED to me, maybe we would've have to go through this. Maybe I wouldn't have to come home so bloody, maybe your friends would still be alive. It's all up to you, and you still manage to fuck everything up"

•"What are you crying for, GOD I can't stand when you do this. Why are you upset, huh? Because you looked at someone else when I told you not to? Because you broke the rules, and now you have to face the consequences of your own actions?"

•"YOU wouldn't have ANYTHING without me. Not this house, not the food, the clothes off your back, hell, not even that damn phone you're threatening me with. Do you want me to show you how good you have it? Maybe it's time I start playing the bad guy you think I am" Taken by @bookoffandoms

The ones below are by @animeyanderelover

“Do you want me to break your legs or lock you in a cage to prevent you from running away?”

“One more chance! I’m giving you one more chance to fucking stop resisting!”

“I can end all of your pain. You just have to say these three words.”

“If you don’t kiss me back, I’ll slit someone’s throat.” Done by @grrrrr-dsmp

“Listen, I’m giving you two choices. Either you start eating willingly or I’ll force you. There’s no way I’m letting you starve yourself to death.”

"You can’t find your clothes? That’s a shame. But you can wear mine. They look better on you anyways.”

70. “Hearing you say that makes me want to fuck you so badly.”

71. “Your body, your heart, your soul. It all belongs to me." Taken by @god1ngs

Soft/Toxic Comfort Prompts

“You think you’re ugly? Who told you so? Tell me so I can give them an agonizing death for making you think that. And after I’m finished with them, I’m going to worship you in bed until you see how beautiful you really are.”

“Please stop crying. You make me feel even worse. But you need to understand, if I wouldn’t have chained you to the bed, you would have tried to run away again.”

"Babe…! Shit! I’m sorry you had to see this, but please believe me! He deserved it! No,no,no, don’t be scared of me. You know I would never harm you.” Taken by @aungel

Desperate/Obsessed Prompts

The ones below are by @animeyanderelover

“Can you at least pretend to love me? Just for tonight?”

“You don’t understand! If you accept me now, I’ll be your slave!”

“Stop giving me that look! Stop looking at me as if I’m a monster!”

“I desire any physical touch with you so please hit me more.”

“What I am doing? I’m punishing myself. Why? Because I upset you earlier.”

“Hate me, scream at me, hit me. Do whatever you want with me, but please stay with me.”

“…You are telling me that I can live with my life without you, but you don’t seem to understand that YOU are my life.”

"You had a nightmare about me? That’s great! That means you think of me even when you dream. Even though I hope your next dream about me will be more pleasant.”

“Use me however you want too. My body is yours.”

Now let the meeting commence...

99 notes · View notes

bbangsoonie · 4 years ago

Text

to my ex (best friend)

member: juyeon genre: fluff?? word count: 2,175 synopsis: thanks to kevin’s tiktok obsession, you end up sending out a google form to all of the people you used to call your best friends. one response brings back forgotten memories and feelings.

“I can’t believe I’m stuck with the Canada boys for another 4 years,” you jokingly groaned.

Today was officially move-in day and the beginning of your college life. After roughly unpacking in your dorm room, you went over to Jacob and Kevin’s room to hang out. Jacob had his guitar out and was playing random chords for you to hum along to. Kevin, on the other hand, was glued to his phone. TikTok had been his new obsession and he was constantly watching the endless feed of videos.

“Hey, we are the iconic trio,” Jacob insisted.

“Wow Eric is basically a TikTok star now,” Kevin commented as he showed you two the video that popped up on his For You page. “This kid is stuck on straight TikTok though.”

Jacob laughed, although he was unsure of what that exactly meant. Knowing this, you chuckled at his efforts to appease his roommate.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Kevin tugged at your arm in an urgent matter. “Can we also do that Google form trend?”

“Uhh which one?” you asked.

“The one where you send out a Google form to your ex-crushes or ex-friends,” he turned to Jacob to further explain. “So basically it’s a questionnaire either revealing your past feelings or confronting what happened between old friends.”

“I don’t know, man. Our high school years were pretty vanilla. We didn’t even have that many crushes,” you shrugged.

“Hmm I mean we did have that huge friend group freshman year. It’s a shame it kinda fell apart as time went by,” Jacob reminisced.

You were reminded of the people you once considered to be your best friends. It was you and twelve other boys, which should’ve hinted at the inevitable end. The beginning of the end started with Hyunjoon transferring to a different school. Then, as you all grew older and high school drama kicked in, you were the topic of many rumors. People didn’t understand—or like—that you were the only girl in an all male friend group. Girls called you all sorts of names and spread ridiculous lies about you that spread to neighboring schools.

No one in the group had any bad blood with each other. Life just pulled you in different directions and you simply grew apart. Some joined the dance team, which consumed most of their time. Some joined varsity teams and focused on getting a sports scholarship. Some became trainees and lost contact with everyone. Some, like you and the Canada boys, became busy with college applications. Everyone had their own reasons and there were no hard feelings.

“Wouldn’t it be fun to finally find out what they all think? Get closure before we start our journey as college students?” Kevin asked, eagerly.

“I guess,” you agreed.

“Alright! Then we’ll play rock paper scissors to choose who has to send them out,” Kevin declared.

Your unlucky streak, without fail, won you the embarrassment honor of writing and sending the form to all your former friends. You grumbled, displeased at the fact that you were now the scapegoat fulfilling Kevin’s curiosity. Nevertheless, you searched through your contact list to find everyone’s phone numbers and sent them the link, hoping that no one changed their number.

By the next day, you received responses from all 10 of them. The trio reconvened in Jacob and Kevin’s room to review the answers. The first few were essentially what you all expected. They explained how life became hectic and your paths just crossed less and less as your interests and goals changed.

When you came across Haknyeon’s comment, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You still owe me ice cream for lending you my pen during our final exam,” you read aloud. You recalled the day; you were freaking out about your misplaced pencil case and he had kindly offered his extra pen.

“What else would you expect from the foodie?” Kevin laughed.

By the time you got to Juyeon’s response, however, you froze. Curious as to what caught you so off guard, Jacob took the laptop from your lap and gasped. Kevin peeped over Jacob’s shoulder and his jaw dropped after reading it. He immediately looked at you, wondering how you were taking the information.

You were confused. He had been the object of your love and attention for a good three years in high school. Not wanting anyone to find out, you had swallowed those feelings and the Canada duo were the only ones to ever catch on. You and Juyeon used to be extremely close—even closer than you and Kevin or you and Jacob. He always quietly took care of you and the two of you shared everything with each other until one day he suddenly became distant. Without an explanation, he left your side and never returned. You just assumed he wanted to stop being friends. It hurt but you didn’t want to force a one-sided friendship so you stopped reaching out to him.

“What the heck?” you finally blurted.

Jacob slowly closed the laptop shut, eyeing Kevin who seemed way too giddy. He felt uneasy, not knowing if this was a good thing.

“So your first love was requited,” Kevin said smugly. “I told you so.”

“Okay you had absolutely no facts to back up your assumption back then,” you argued.

“What did I tell you? My gut is never wrong.”

“Yeah but he also just cut me off out of nowhere. How else was I supposed to interpret that?”

“Clearly not the way we did.”

Jacob smacked his hand over Kevin’s mouth to shut him up. He knew how much pain Juyeon’s name brought you. You didn’t show it but you still had a soft spot for him.

“It’s okay, Jacob. Whatever feelings I had for Juyeon—good and bad—are history. You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me,” you assured. “Besides, this doesn’t even mean anything. He wrote all of this in past tense. He’s just clarifying the reason why our friendship ended. Like Kevin said, I guess I finally got closure.”

“Closure? My brilliant idea has brought forth an opportunity for you to rekindle your love!” Kevin exclaimed excitedly.

“No. No way,” you shook your head. “The past is in the past. We are living very separate lives now.”

“Oh stop quoting Frozen and just try texting him,” he rolled his eyes. “Jacob and I never told you but he’s actually attending the same university as us.”

This prompted a very loud “What?” from you. Jacob buried his head in his hands, groaning. He was definitely going to get an earful.

“You’re bound to run into him eventually. So just take the initiative and face things head on,” Kevin advised. “Won’t that be less awkward than coincidentally meeting him after ignoring his response to the form you sent him?”

“And who’s the one who made me send it?” you glared, puffing your cheeks.

“You’re going to do it anyway so just hurry up and pretend you have no choice but to listen to me,” he snickered.

“Moon Hyungseo!”

At your use of his full Korean name, his eyes widened in fear and he jumped up to run away, barely avoiding your slap. Watching the scene in front of him, Jacob laughed. He had secretly hoped that you would reconnect with Juyeon as well. He knew how much you used to like him.

That night, you found yourself staring at Juyeon’s contact on your phone. Your heart raced at the thought of talking to him again. It had been years since you two last spoke and so many things had changed since then. You were no longer oblivious and clumsy teenagers. You knew each other’s past selves but didn’t know a thing about each other’s current selves. You were afraid that even if you became friends again, it would be too different. It was why you never harbored any hope for things to go back to “normal” with him. You couldn’t be disappointed if you never had any expectations to begin with.

Still, you took a leap of courage and sent a simple “hey” before you could chicken out. His reply was almost instant, which startled you.

You: hey

Juyeon: Hi Y/n

You: would it be weird if i asked to meet? i think we have a few things to talk about.. if that’s ok with you

Juyeon: Sure! How’s tomorrow at noon? We could talk over a meal at the school cafeteria

You: sounds good. see you then :)

You wanted to scream into your pillow. The awkwardness was driving you crazy but you were still looking forward to seeing him. He still had you wrapped around his finger and you hated it. But you still loved him.

The next day, your clothes were flung around all over your bed. You had rummaged through your entire closet to find an outfit you were satisfied with, resulting in you running a bit late.

Juyeon had arrived at the cafeteria early. He was so nervous that he couldn’t just stay still in his dorm. After all these years, he was finally confronting everything that he had concealed. He always felt guilty about the way he treated you and he was glad he could finally explain and apologize.

When he saw you approach him, he couldn’t stop himself from staring. It had only been a summer since he last saw you at graduation but your beauty still amazed him. He gulped, standing up to greet you when you reached the table.

The first few minutes were spent eating in awkward silence. Unable to bear it any longer, he cleared his throat to begin the conversation.

“Um so I guess my response to that form was a lot to unpack, huh?” he said sheepishly.

You almost choked on the food, surprised by his straightforwardness. He passed you your cup of water as you coughed.

“Yeah..” you mumbled.

“I want to start by saying I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I think I always had feelings for you. At first, it was subtle. I just liked spending time with you. I liked making you smile. I was content with just being friends. You know me, I’m the type to just watch my crush from afar. Then, as we got older, those feelings grew to be bigger than I could handle. I began to get greedy. And I felt that I could literally do anything for you. That’s when I realized how hard I fell for you and that scared me. I was afraid of ruining our friendship but I was also scared of my own feelings. So I started distancing myself from you. It’s a poor excuse but back then, I was a coward,” he confessed.

Juyeon had always been a very direct person. He never really beat around the bush and you liked that about him. That hadn’t changed about him but yet it still surprised you.

“If I could go back in time, I wish I could have done things differently. I knew I was hurting you but I thought that after all that’s happened, continuing to be friends with you would make you the center of gossip again. I didn’t want to make your life any harder,” he added.

“Juyeon, I cared about you a lot more than I did about those stupid rumors.”

“I know that now. But high schooler me was terrified of you finding out about my feelings.”

You contemplated on whether or not you should bring up your own past feelings. You wanted to reciprocate his honesty but were worried that it would be unnecessary. You took a deep breath and decided on the first option.

“You know, I was also terrified of having you find out about my feelings,” you admitted. Your words shocked him as he tried to figure out what you were implying.

“Wait, you.. You liked me too?” he gaped, making you blush.

“Let’s uh stop talking about that now,” you said as your cheeks reddened to a darker shade.

“While we’re opening up..” he looked at you with hesitance. “Is there any chance you still feel the same way now?”

His question caught you entirely off guard. You blankly stared at him, wondering if you heard him correctly.

“Juyeon, this is the first proper conversation we’ve had in years,” you deadpanned.

“That’s not an immediate no,” he lit up.

You wanted to laugh at his simplicity. His childlike innocence was still the same. It warmed your heart to see that he hadn’t changed as much as you were afraid he would. Yet, the fear in the back of your mind remained. You weren’t confident that you could even resume your friendship with him. At your silence, he tried to lighten the mood.

“So then would being friends again be okay with you?” he asked.

“I guess we could try,” you slowly nodded, bringing a bright smile to his face. You didn’t notice that your expression reflected his.

“Great,” he grinned happily.

And that was the beginning of a new story between you two.

bonus:

388 notes · View notes

retrievablememories · 4 years ago

Text

matched | ten (m)

title: matched pairing: alien!ten x black!reader genre: sci-fi, angst, fluff, romance, smut summary: the quest for love leads you to a new dating app with a slight twist—and straight into the inbox of someone who’s light-years out of your usual dating pool. word count: 9.7k warnings: familial conflict, strained parental relationship, mentions of cheating, prejudice/discrimination based on species, body modifications/alien biology, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), dom!ten, photography during sex, cumshot, squirting, some spanking a/n: as always, i lose all impulse control whenever i get a ten request so i have finished this sooner than i expected

i decided to lean more into the romance plotline than stress too much over the realism of the science-fiction elements with this fic, so there are some inaccuracies/impossibilities...but that’s fiction for you 🙃

AM 2074 (After Migration)

You are lonely.

Your last breakup did not end well, to say the least, and you haven’t dated for a while since then. It seemed like a smart move—a safe one—to shun all romantic relationships until you felt ready again. At the beginning, you were glad to be alone for a while, to regroup and rediscover yourself worrying about another person’s opinions on everything you did. To not have to deal with someone else’s drama.

The toll of not having companionship is gradually getting to you, though. Even if your last relationship was a mess more often than it wasn’t, you still long for those good moments, like going on night dates on the weekends and sharing pillowtalk into long hours of the early morning. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed those things until all the emotions of it crashed down on you at once.

Your friend Malika claims to have a solution for your loneliness. Now, sitting at this outdoor cafe, you’re simultaneously eager and hesitant to hear what she has to propose, knowing her track record for silly plots.

With twinkling eyes, she looks at you and says, “You should try a dating app.” She clasps her hands together and puts them on the table like she’s made a grand announcement. You absorb her words for a few moments, looking out at the street across from you and watching cars—some hovering above the asphalt, some driven autonomously, and many still with human drivers—pass by.

You eventually sigh, your shoulders slumping. “That’s the big solution you called me out here for? People have been using dating apps for decades, that’s nothing new.”

“Exactly! The fact that they’re still popular even in 2074 is proof that they work, Y/N. You can put yourself out there and talk to dozens of guys without even meeting them in person. If one connection doesn’t work out, you don’t have anything to lose, and you don’t have to see the guy ever again.”

“Maybe I’ll lose my sweet time and patience during the process, though.”

Malika shakes her head and types something into her hologram pad, then holds it up for you to see. The hologram displays a dating app called matched—it reminds you of what Tinder was supposedly like before it became eclipsed by more advanced platforms, though that happened years before you were even born. “This one is kinda new, but it’s gotten popular fast and has good success rates. I’ve tried it before and met some nice guys. Give it at least one chance before you hate on it.”

“Ugh, I don’t know...there are always so many weirdos hanging out on those apps. What if I meet someone who keeps a collection of severed alien tentacles in an icebox in their house? Like that one guy who showed up on the news?”

“...Really?” Malika rolls her eyes. “You’re so dramatic. Stop getting in your own way and just take a risk for once.”

You shake your head at her optimism. “I’ll do it because I know you won’t leave me alone about it, but don’t expect me to find some great love story on this app.”

Once you download the app and start making an account, it becomes pretty obvious that this isn’t just a regular dating platform.

Choosing your gender and age preferences is normal enough, and you pass through those screens quickly until you get to one that gives you two new options.

➤ Species Preference ❐ Human ❐ Extraterrestrial

Whoa. Aliens? An alien-friendly dating app?

You weren’t overly familiar with the mechanics of dating apps, and you certainly didn’t consider that ones allowing aliens might’ve existed until now. It had been 15 years since the first contact with aliens was established, and a little less than a decade had passed since aliens began migrating to Earth and taking up permanent residence—and vice versa.

Humans had little problem with accepting aliens’ technological adaptations and claiming them as their own, though they were far less welcoming of the aliens themselves. That resulted in strained interactions between the two species, with aliens trying their best to assimilate and humans questioning their every motive. As far as personal relationships went, interspecies mingling between humans and extraterrestrials was still fairly uncommon—something that only people who were considered to be on the fringes of society participated in. There were “normal citizens of society” who built relationships with aliens, but many of them also kept it solely as a kink or fetish to be done only in the dark.

You decide to check both options. It feels a little scary, like diving headfirst into the unknown, but you are open to it either way. You’ve interacted with aliens before, both as kind acquaintances and near strangers, and they’ve always been relatively normal in the grand scheme of things—beings trying to survive and make a life for themselves like anyone else. Certainly not plotting how to take over Earth as many people have speculated. If they really wanted to, they possess the technology to have done that ten times over already.

You take a while trying to come up with a clever bio and spend an even longer time mulling over which pictures of yourself to choose, but you eventually complete your profile.

The first few matches you make are not very successful.

Whether it’s human guys feeding you terrible pickup lines or alien guys who can’t make it past the language barrier—or who ask you to move back with them to their home planet after two days of talking—you don’t see any potential love interests during your first two weeks of using the app.

You’re not sure what kind of skills Malika used to make multiple good matches, but maybe you need to interrogate her so you can sharpen your own. So you decide to do exactly that.

“Don’t give up on it just yet. Just be yourself—which also means not being afraid to cuss someone out if they come at you crazy. Some of these dudes lowkey like the mean girl shit, though, which is kinda weird.” Malika speaks from the shimmering translucent mirage of your hologram pad as you walk through the park one afternoon. She couldn’t make it out to meet you today, but you managed to snatch a moment to talk to her even if it couldn’t be face-to-face. “You probably shouldn’t expect to find a boyfriend in the first few days—”

“Girl, I don't think anyone was expecting that. Duh.”

“I’m saying, just give it time!”

“Okay, but listen. You didn’t tell me it’s also for aliens. Have you dated one before? You never told me!” You lower your voice then, not wanting anyone nearby to eavesdrop on your conversation and hear that part. You feel kinda bad for even thinking that way, but it’s hard to shake the stigma associated with interacting with aliens.

“Yes, and it was the best sex I ever had, but maybe I’ll tell you about that later.”

“Sis. Don’t withhold tea from me!”

“Someday when you’re not literally standing in the middle of the park, okay?” Malika shakes her head, smiling.

“Don’t forget about it, either.”

“I won’t. And you know what to do if you find a guy. I want to be the first to know!”

“Sure, sure. I wouldn’t hold my breath on it, though.”

You decide to spend some more time on the app after that conversation instead of just deleting it like you’d planned to initially. And one day, you get another new match that catches your eye out of the many others.

“Ten? Like the number…?” Besides the interesting name, you immediately see that he’s an extraterrestrial. From the Sommu race, as it says in his bio.

You click on his profile.

You’re a little surprised by how pretty he is, which isn’t to say the other aliens you matched with were all hideous. But he doesn’t have tentacles coming out of his face or two sets of eyes, either. The most noticeable thing about his alienness is his blue skin.

“Likes...dancing, art, music, okay so we have an artist type here...dislikes...fruit. Huh. That’s...interesting.”

The pictures of him on his profile are all deliberately artistic, as in they aren’t just some half-baked selfies he took with a hologram pad. You grow increasingly curious. It’s safe to say he’s either super into himself or just appreciates the art of good photography, and you figure there’s only one way to find out. You decide to take the first step and message him.

➤ Nice pictures :)

You don’t know when or if you’ll get a message back, since he’s not online when you send it, so you try not to get your hopes up too much. Maybe you should’ve tried to come up with something more cool and funny—nice pictures?—but you try to remember Malika’s advice and roll your eyes to yourself. There’s no point in getting stressed over a dude you don’t even know yet.

You eventually get a reply back from Ten.

➤ thank you 🙏 are you into photography too? you have talent for taking beautiful photos

You giggle quietly to yourself; another line, but it’s definitely one of the tamer ones you’ve received. Why not see where this one goes?

The first conversation you have consists mostly of the regular getting-to-know-you talk, such as your personal interests and favorite things. You get him to talk more about his photography hobby, which he’s eager to tell you all about—as well as his penchant for art.

To your optimism, you and Ten quickly get comfortable with each other. You soon forget about all the other potential matches you have, but those don't matter much to you anymore. So far, you’ve connected the most successfully with Ten, which means you’re more than glad to stop spending your time reading boring messages from guys who’ve only pretended to have things in common with you.

Things go so well, in fact, that he asks you to meet in person not long after you begin talking to each other.

For your first meetup, you decide to meet at a park nearby—the same one you’d been walking through the day you were talking to Malika about that very dating app. You and Ten have talked through the hologram pad on multiple occasions, so you’re more reassured that you’re not starting from scratch with some faceless being. Still, the thrill of seeing each other in person for the first time is undeniable.

“Y/N?” You turn your head at the sound of your name, and you see Ten walking towards you.

“Ten!” You give him a smile, waving at him. You feel a little more nervous than you usually would on a date, though you can’t tell if it’s the good kind of nervousness. You mostly chalk it up to not having been out with anyone in a while.

Ten’s just as pretty up close as he was in the photos and on camera, if not even more attractive; he’s breathtaking in the light of the sun. His hair is styled nicely, meticulously-place strands curling over his forehead, and his clothes perfectly outline his slim body. He looks pleased to see you, his lips curving into a coy smile.

“You could’ve given me a warning,” he says as he outstretches his arms to you. You hug him, but not without a questioning glance on your face. He is warm and smells good, like juniper, which almost makes you forget about your question.

“Warned you about what?”

“How you’re even more beautiful in person.” He says this at your ear before pulling away, and it makes the back of your neck bloom with heat.

“Oh, you’re laying it on thick.” You giggle nervously, shifting on your feet.

“Are you ready to go?” he asks.

“Yes, let’s go!”

You leave the park to go to an aquarium nearby, which is the biggest one in the city. You find out quickly that Ten is easily fascinated by the wide range of creatures there. Despite living on Earth for a few years now, he hasn’t seen a lot of them until now.

You walk through the blue-lit hallways together, surrounded by water everywhere you turn. You observe the different animals up close and from far away, reading information about them from the signs beside their tanks.

“What the hell is that?” Ten says through laughter, looking at the squished-up mouth of a stingray as it floats in front of the glass, baring its pale underside to you both.

“It’s a stingray!”

He scrunches his nose up. “It’s ugly. But kinda cute, too…”

You both end up staying at the aquarium longer than you expected, with Ten wanting to see practically every animal they had on display; plus, you got to see some you weren’t familiar with before either.

After visiting the aquarium, you go downtown—which is otherwise known as food truck central, where you can get pretty much anything you’re craving. This area is always quite busy this time of evening, especially on the weekends. Food in hand, you and Ten end up walking through a few of the quieter back streets where there’s not as many people—streets where the closely-packed buildings give way to the grassy yards and paved roads of nearby neighborhoods.

“Should we talk about our families now, or is it too soon?” you say jokingly. “You know, that seems to be the only thing we haven’t mentioned after talking about everything else under the sun.” You’re not entirely sure why you bring this up while knowing your own relationship with your parents isn’t great, but you are curious to hear about Ten’s family.

“I don’t really know mine,” he replies.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You feel a little bad about it, thinking there was definitely a reason why he never mentioned the topic.

Ten looks confused for a moment before shaking his head. “No, it’s not like that. Sommu never form close bonds with their parents or siblings.”

You give him a curious look. “Why not?”

“Well, we aren’t born or raised the human way,” he explains. “Our parents have a bunch of us at once, raise us for the first couple of years, and then go off to reproduce again and continue the population.”

You’re startled at that. “Just for a few years? How do you survive?”

“We age faster...both physically and mentally. We become independent around 4 or 5 years old, and we can live without our parents.”

“That’s...definitely very different.” You try to wrap your mind around that information, though it’s difficult. Even with your not-so-healthy relationship with your parents, you couldn’t imagine having no family whatsoever at such a young age. You also can’t even begin to comprehend what it’d look like to be taking care of yourself at only 5 years old, fast aging or not. “But, you said a bunch at once...how is that possible?”

“We are formed inside things like eggs. It’s not like your form of childbirth. See?” And you become flustered when he lifts his shirt up to show his lack of a belly button, right there in the middle of the street.

“Uh, wow.”

“The human concepts of ‘family’ and ‘relationships’ are...very new to me.” He seems a little embarrassed to admit this. “That’s why I, um, joined a dating app, for more experience...I was told I need to learn to be more…” He searches for the word. “Im...pertinent?”

“...Empathetic?”

“Yeah, that.”

“So, did that come from a previous partner, or…?”

“Yeah, I’ve had two relationships since I’ve been here.” He seems wistful now, maybe a little sad. “They didn’t work out well. Maybe we were too different.” Before the mood can shift too far into negativity, Ten turns to you with a soft smile. “But maybe that’s not the kind of thing you want to hear while we’re on a date.”

You shake your head and smile. “I don’t mind, it’s interesting to know about.” More than interesting. You want to ask him a hundred more things about what his life was like when he first got to Earth. “Anyway, you can never have too many new starts in life. Let’s enjoy this one.”

At the end of your date, Ten walks with you back to your place. It’s almost midnight at this point, with you both walking all the way back from downtown. You’d drawn more than a few skeptical stares over the course of the day, but you both did your best to ignore those and just focus on each other.

“I’m really glad we got to go out today, it was fun,” you say, hugging your arms to yourself to shield against the cool spring breeze.

“I think I haven’t had that much fun in a while,” he agrees. Ten smiles wide then, the tip of his tongue sticking out from between his teeth, and you have to do a double take.

“What—”

“Oh, that. Sometimes I forget everyone doesn’t have this...” And when he sticks his tongue out, you see clearly now that it’s split halfway down the middle. Sort of like how a snake’s would be. “D’you like it?” His expression is wicked when he asks this, and a strange heat sweeps through your body.

“Wow.” You cringe at your lackluster answer, but that’s the only thing you can muster up at the moment, too busy internally questioning yourself. You’ve seen body modders with split tongues in documentaries and on the internet, but it’s never appealed to you like this before, and you don’t know what to do with that new realization.

“It’s okay, it takes some getting used to.” He gives you a smile that might be called innocent by anyone else, but to your eyes it’s quite obvious he’s proud about making you flustered.

“Getting used to...yeah, I’m sure.” There are about 15 different questions you want to ask him about that, too, but you aren’t going there on the first date.

“So...can I expect to see you again?”

“Of course.” You smile again at the hopeful note in his tone. “Just let me know whenever you want to go out again.”

Before Ten leaves, he places a hand on your shoulder and kisses you on the cheek. It’s a simple and short kiss, but it still makes you blush beneath your brown skin.

You wave goodbye to him from your doorstep as he goes, feeling like you’ve finally done something right for the first time in a long time.

You’d taken a chance with dating an extraterrestrial, someone so different from yourself and your species, and you figured it would be a new experience. Obviously. What you did not bet on, however, was the idea that you’d fall for Ten so fast.

After three months of dating exclusively, you feel like you could say you love him, which is frighteningly quick for you; though you don’t tell him this yet.

You’ve decided to bring him to meet your family. The idea frightens you, because your parents have never been very receptive to the aliens’ migration. But you are still holding out some hope that maybe they’ll realize all their assumptions were wrong, and that you’ve found a nice man who you love and who you’re sure loves you just as much. Whether he’s human or not shouldn’t matter.

You manage to set a date when all your schedules match up so you can bring Ten over to your parent’s house. Ten is nervous—more nervous than he was when you went on your first date—which you find a little surprising. You’ve gotten used to him being the one who you can lean on, who always seems to know the right answer.

“Do you think it will go well?” he asks, his tone implying he’s not confident of the answer.

“I hope so.” You give him a smile that you hope is reassuring and squeeze his hand.

When your parents open the door, there’s visible surprise on their faces. You’d already told them your boyfriend was not human, which drew doubtful responses when you first said it, but they’re acting as if they never knew that information—as if this is the first time they’re seeing an alien, period.

“Um…hi, mom, dad.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Ten says, though his own tone is overly formal, like he doesn’t know how he should speak. “I’m Ten.”

Your parents pause for a few moments longer. Finally, the awkward quiet is broken. “We thought you were just messing,” your dad says, though he steps out of the way to let you both come in, if a bit reluctantly.

“I—no.” You’re uncertain how to respond to that, though you don’t feel optimistic about what it entails. Your mother doesn’t say anything at all, just stares at you and Ten like you’re both strangers who’ve just waltzed in uninvited. She goes back in the kitchen to finish dinner once the door is closed, not saying anything to either one of you, and you already feel a cold pit settling in the bottom of your stomach.

Your dad sits in the living room with you and Ten, and another awkward silence ensues as your dad gives a stiff smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He clasps his fingers together and pulls them apart repeatedly, like they’ll give him the answers for what’s going on.

“This is just a fling, right? Of course you won’t be staying with this ma—” Your dad almost says man but then stutters, thinking maybe the term isn’t appropriate since Ten isn’t human. He makes a vague gesture to fill in the space of the missing word.

“It’s not a fling,” you say, feeling like you’ve had cold water poured down your back. You’re sitting straight and still on the couch, and it’s not comfortable, but you’re too tense to move. Ten is almost equally stiff beside you.

“Y/N, we just want you to make good decisions for yourself.” That’s what your dad says out loud, though the look in his eyes finishes the rest of that sentence: And I don’t think this is a good decision.

“I am,” you insist. “I don’t need to be told that over and over again.”

“Me and Y/N are happy together,” Ten explains, and your dad seems a little shocked that he’s decided to speak.

“Do you truly think you’re what she needs?” your dad asks. You’re not sure what makes you more angry; the question itself, or the fact that he keeps his tone non-accusatory and light, as if he’s only asking something like where do you work? Like the answer doesn’t matter because he’s already made up his mind.

“As long as Y/N wants to keep seeing me, there’s no reason to stop our relationship.”

A sound of displeasure comes from your mother in the kitchen, and your skin prickles. Your dad nods to Ten’s answer, but he does so in a way that conveys he just wants this conversation to be over rather than consider anything that was said.

You deeply regret not leaving straight after that failed discussion, but you soon find out just how bad it can get once you all make it to the dinner table. Your mother is chillingly silent for the first half of the dinner, acting like neither you nor Ten exist, while your dad attempts to make awkward small talk about how things are going.

There comes a point where you can no longer handle the cold sweat and the nerves, and you put your utensils down. Not that you had much of an appetite anyway.

“Why won’t you even talk to me?”

Your mother glares. “You can’t guess? What kind of question is that to ask?”

You falter. You don’t know why she always does this to you. Ask ridiculous rhetorical questions that you both already know the answer to. Now you must sit here and explain why you asked like it isn’t already obvious.

“I’m visiting after I haven’t been here in a while. With my boyfriend. I thought...I don’t know. The least you could do—” Your mother shakes her head at the word “boyfriend,” and you already know everything else you said went in one ear and out the other.

“I still don’t know why you didn’t just stay with Christian?” she interrupts. “He had a decent job, came to see us often, and was NOT an alien.”

“But he cheated on me,” you say, a sickness rising in you.

“That’s what men do sometimes, Y/N. You deal with it and move on. You’re supposed to be strong—fix whatever is making him do it.”

You and Ten exchange a tense look, and there is clear confusion whirling in his eyes, but you don’t say anything to each other. “That relationship is over. I’m trying to do something for myself for once, not whatever you think I should do.” Even saying those words makes you internally recoil, unsure of what the reaction will be, but you don’t take them back.

“You may be an adult but we’re still your parents. Frankly, you need to be with a man of your own race and species—not this blue Martian here. How would you even have kids?”

Ten gives a humorless laugh, like he wants to respond but doesn’t want to make the situation worse or offend you. “You know what, I should just leave,” he says abruptly, rising from his seat.

You get up quickly after he does, but your mom slams her hand on the table. “Y/N, you better not walk out of here.”

You feel defeated and exhausted, like you always do when dealing with your parents and their objections to every single thing you do, but you decide not to give in this time. “Stop treating me like I’m still a child, ma.”

“What does being an adult matter when you still act childish? Don’t come back here crying when this doesn’t work out. I’ve already warned you more than enough.”

“That isn’t going to happen.”

“So now you think you know better than me, when you couldn’t even keep a man the first time around.”

“This is hopeless,” you sigh, feeling wounded and angry at all these cheap shots.

“Y/N, please just listen to your mother for once…” your dad interjects, but you try your best to ignore their protests as you grab your things and follow Ten to the door. You can still hear your mother’s angry complaints as you close the front door behind you, though you’re surprised—but grateful—that neither of them attempt to follow you outside.

The ride back home is uncomfortable and mostly quiet.

“I’m sorry, Ten,” you say, feeling like you’ve been frozen from the inside out despite it being nearly summer. You’re near tears when you speak. Ten shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.

“It’s not your fault…” he replies weakly, though his words aren’t very persuasive to either of you.

He still walks you up to your door when you arrive back at your place, trailing slightly behind you. The night air is distractingly humid, wrapping around the both of you like a physical thing. Neither of you know what to say to each other.

When you get to your front door, you turn to look at him. “I shouldn’t have made you come. I should’ve known...”

“I wanted to come,” he points out. “You didn’t make me do anything.” Ten’s tone isn’t outright harsh, but the words are noticeably sharp. Maybe he realizes it, because his face softens as if he’s said something wrong.

You nod. It’s as if there’s a mountainous gap between you two that you just can’t cross right now. “I get it.” You say this almost mindlessly, because you’re not sure what you’re getting, exactly. Your hand rests on the doorknob. You don’t want to end the night on this awkward and painful note, but neither of you are making any progress with this lack of a real conversation. Maybe now isn’t the right time to try to talk about it.

“I think...I’ll just go home tonight.” You expected he’d say that, but the words still make your heart hurt, even if you don’t want them to. He looks like he might say something else, but he just gives you a small nod before starting off.

“Ten…” You don’t know what you want to ask of him or tell him, if anything, but his name slips from your lips like it’s something you can’t keep inside.

Ten stops for a moment and turns back to you. He steps closer again, leaning forward to give you a soft kiss on the lips. When he pulls back, his eyes hold you in place.

He mumbles, “I’m not mad at you,” before leaving.

More than anything, you want to know how Ten is doing, but you’re too ashamed to contact him for the first couple days after that mess of a night. Maybe he thinks you’re just like your parents and doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore. His reassurance at the door wasn’t enough to soothe your worries, and you end up tearing yourself up internally over it—repeatedly recalling the warmth of his lips and wondering if that’s maybe the last time you’ll ever feel it.

Similarly, nothing but radio silence comes from his end. He doesn’t respond even after you finally muster up the nerve to send him a text—a short text, but still a message all the same—and you fear he must really be done with you.

On Ten’s part, he does have one justification for it; he’s preoccupied with dealing with the avalanche of unpleasant memories and emotions that incident resurfaced. Everything about what your parents said and how they looked at him reminds him of his past and ongoing struggles with trying to assimilate on Earth.

Even though he’s often very sure of himself and what he wants, he begins wondering if he’s “enough” for you. Maybe you’ve just been humoring him this whole time, or you’ve decided your parents are right and you’d be better off with another human.

Those thoughts keep him up into the early morning hours, and he soon realizes he doesn’t want to let you go. In fact, he’s not sure what he’d do with himself if you decided to walk out of his life right now, and the idea of it makes him ill. Which makes him feel even more foolish for tuning you out.

Ten’s anxiety over losing you culminates in him standing on your doorstep again after almost a week of emptiness and not knowing how you were thinking or feeling—which has been killing him in its own way.

You’re not quite sure how to feel when you open the door and see him on the other side, but relief shoulders its way to the forefront.

“Y/N, I’m sorry—”

“Can you please—”

You both speak at the same time, your words breaking afterwards.

“You can talk first,” Ten says.

“Come in.” You let him in the door, and the words start spilling before you know how to stop them. “Ten, I-I’m...really sorry. I should’ve known better than to put you in that situation, but I thought…” Your words trail off. You don’t want to let him know just how desperate you still are for your parents’ approval sometimes. Even though it’s a fruitless case. “I just wanted it to go well. I want things to work now, for us. I really, really want things to work for us.”

Ten surprises himself with how quickly he moves to take you in his arms before the last words have even finished settling in his mind. He hugs you tightly. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t want me anymore,” he whispers, like he’s telling you something forbidden.

“That couldn’t happen.” You’re saddened he’d come to that conclusion. “But...it’s not fair for you to leave me in the dark, either. I want to help you...so would you please let me?”

Ten squeezes you a bit tighter, as if you might disappear from his arms. “I’m sorry I ghosted you...it brought back bad memories of how things were when I first got here. When people were more open about treating me like some kind of enemy. I didn’t know how to deal with it.” You tuck your chin into his shoulder and listen to his breathing, his heartbeat, the sound of his words. “Y/N, I’m not sure if I’m very good at love, or if I even know enough about it. Maybe the others were right and I’m kidding myself with something I’ll never properly learn. But, I…” His voice cracks. “I-I think I love you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Entirely overwhelmed, you answer his admission with a long kiss, cupping his face in your hands. His response to your kiss is automatic, the knots of tension unraveling in your embrace.

“I love you, Ten,” you whisper against his lips after you separate. Here and now, it doesn’t feel too soon at all; there couldn’t be a better time to say it. His expression is a lot of things at once. Relief, happiness, contentment...he’s blushing, but it shows up as a darker blue on his already blue skin. When he smiles, it turns his whole face into a picture of joy.

“I want to go away.” Quietly, you tell him this as you rest your head in his lap.

You’re both lying on your couch, the room dim and the sound of rain occupying the silence. A downpour started coming down soon after Ten got to your place. You’ve sat there just like that and listened to the rain on the windows for the past couple hours, not wanting to do anything else or separate from each other. You knew he wouldn’t want to go home, and you didn’t even have to ask him to stay.

Ten’s been petting your hair the whole time. The motion of his fingers in your kinky strands makes you sleepy, but now the movements pause at your words.

“Go where?” he asks.

“Away from all this. My parents hate me, and they won’t let me have any peace as long as I’m with you. I just want to go away for a while.” Despite you overflowing with love after finally getting your feelings out in the open, the thought of your parents’ disapproval has lingered steadily in the recesses of your mind. You close your eyes against the tears that begin to well up. Ten’s quiet for a few more moments, and then begins stroking your head again.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

A few tears fall despite you trying to keep them in, and your eyelids flutter when you feel Ten’s fingers on your face, wiping them away. “Then we’ll go away.”

Ten’s homeland is a planet where the sun—or rather, a star called Proxima Centauri that’s much like the sun—is always out, no matter what time of day it is. There are days where it rains or gets cloudy, but night never falls and the star never dips any lower in the sky, always staying pinned in that same spot like a tack on a corkboard. That everlasting light throws your body clock off, and combined with this weird new form of jet lag associated with space travel, you are a mess for the first week or so after your arrival.

Ten makes a few jokes about fragile human bodies, but for the most part he tends to you as best as he knows how and tells you stories about how he grew up to get your mind off the discomfort. He feeds you these neon green drinks that don’t look like anything on Earth you’ve had before, and although they do make you feel better, you begin to think maybe you should’ve had a wellness plan before running off-planet.

You aren’t the only human who’s ever visited or even lived there, though, which gives you reassurance about adjusting to everything. By now, there’s a small population of human beings living here due to the interplanetary exchange initiated by Earth.

Before you left, Ten told you he had a small home in his homeland. You didn’t quite expect to hear this, since he’d been on Earth for a while now and had no family to return to. Though he’d migrated, he still expected to come back to his planet every so often, if only to visit. Now was as good a time as any.

Although many differences exist, the scenery is much like Earth’s; there are ecosystems with plants and animals and other living beings—like the Sommu themselves. Ten’s homeland is not filled with wall-to-wall technology like you’d expect an alien city to be, based on the small examples you’ve seen on Earth. You might compare it to the tropics back on Earth, with the Sommu yielding to nature’s rightful place in their ecosystem instead of clearing out whole forests or continually mining for resources. Ten is amused by your struggle to comprehend the newness and unfamiliarity of it all.

When you feel good enough to explore, he starts taking you to the beach often. It looks mostly like any other beach, but there are large coral forms that grow out of the ocean, reaching up towards the impossibly blue and constantly illuminated sky. Because there is no moon to guide the tides, the water is eerily still, the surface mirror-like—like a huge lake or pond that extends in almost every direction for miles. You’d almost believe it was a mirror if you hadn’t seen a bird-like creature skimming across the surface as it flew by, creating fleeting ripples.

You swim around a little in the still waters after Ten convinces you that you aren’t going to turn into a fish or something equally scary. He has to hold both your hands the entire time to get you to step in, and he doesn’t let go until you’re confident enough to explore the water on your own.

“Just focus on me, okay?” His smile is bright and shining against his blue skin, and he looks you directly in the eyes as he backs into the water, breaking the surreal stillness of it with his movements. “It’s just like the water on Earth.”

“Okay, okay,” you say uncertainly, gripping his hands and stepping in tentatively. The water does feel like any other water you’ve touched throughout your life, which helps you calm down slightly. His hands stay tight around yours as you get waist-deep into the water.

When you’re finally able to let go of him, he claps his hands more enthusiastically than the situation probably calls for. “Yay, you’re a big girl now!”

You roll your eyes at him. “You’re not funny, Ten.”

On a bright afternoon, Ten lets you into a room of his house you haven’t entered before. You’ve passed by this shining white door several times, but it’s always remained firmly shut until now.

“What’s in here?” you ask as you hold his hand.

“That’s what I’m going to show you.” He laughs and pushes the door open.

You think it’s a darkroom at first, seeing nothing but dim light and the shiny surfaces of what looks like photographs as your eyes adjust. But when he touches his hand to a panel on the wall and the lights come on, you realize it’s not a darkroom. More like a small gallery for all his pictures.

The “pictures” are physical, but they aren’t like the old Polaroids or film photos that have begun fading out of existence on Earth. They’re small crystalline squares that play eternally-moving videos on their glossy surfaces—a bit different from the translucent holograms Earth adopted. You step further into the room to look at them. It’d probably take days to explore them all, there are so many. Different scenes play out as soundless movies, and when you look for long enough, you realize they’re split into different categories. Numerous events within a life.

Many are of the beach, other scenic places around his homeland, oddly-shaped buildings, and plants in colors that there are no names on Earth for. You step closer to one of the walls to look at the collection of images more closely. You actually do “recognize” a select few, linking them together with old memories Ten had shared with you only weeks ago. There’s so much happening in these small snippets of time, so many stories you haven’t yet heard, that you feel like you could look at them forever and not get enough.

“This is...something else.” Your words seem inadequate, but you don’t quite know how to express your sheer wonder.

“I could take some of you,” Ten suggests, from somewhere behind you. “I want to.”

You glance back at him. “Hm, yeah.”

“I’m serious.” Ten comes up behind you to clasp his arms around your waist. He tucks his chin into your shoulder. His lips are close at your neck, and you let them linger there. One of your hands goes to his own hand that’s over your waist, and you run your fingertips over his knuckles as you gaze at the photo wall before you. “I think you’d be the perfect muse.”

“You could do that.” You’re still entranced with it all, and you already know you’ve made up your mind to let him take as many photos of you as he wants.

The next time you go to the beach, Ten takes some photos of you standing near the huge coral forms—or at least as close as you are willing to get—and he laughs at your lingering hesitation.

Still, the crystalline photos he takes of you are the embodiment of perfection. When you look over them later, watching yourself twirl around and strike silly poses in the water, you can almost hear the sound of your laughter twining together and feel the warmth of a star that’s not the sun on your skin.

“What if we stayed here?”

You ask Ten this while you’re lying in his bed, watching a kaleidoscope of shapes on the ceiling. The bedroom window is open to allow the breeze to come in. The ceiling of the bedroom—and every other room in the house—is more like an ever-changing reflection of shapes and colors than an actual ceiling. You might compare it to a mirror, like the surface of the ocean, but you think it’s much more complex than that. Sometimes you can see the distorted outline of yourself in it, like a funhouse mirror. Other times, you see the sky above.

Ten lies beside you with one hand behind his head and the other resting on his stomach, and he turns his head to look at you.

“Stayed?”

“If we just decided not to...go back to Earth.”

He pauses for a few moments. “Is that a good idea? You have a whole life there...and your friends…” Ten doesn’t mention your family, which you are grateful for.

You sigh. Nothing like a quick injection of reality after letting your imagination get ahead of you. “We’d have to go back. I’d have to tell them goodbye. And sort some other things out. Maybe it wouldn’t happen right now. But, after I do everything I need to do on Earth...maybe I could migrate here.”

“That’s a big decision to make...and it should be yours to decide.” Ten pauses again, like he’s weighing his words. “You know I don’t have many connections on Earth…” In other words, leaving Earth and returning home for good might not be as big of a deal for him as it would be for you.

You sit up and look out the window, seeing how the warm wind stirs the trees outside. “I want to.” You say it almost inaudibly, your words nearly carried off by the breeze. You turn back to him only to find him already there, sitting across from you and looking at you closely. Your faces are only inches from each other’s as he searches your eyes. “What do you want to do?”

“I’ll do anything you want to.” Ten’s voice is earnest, like he’d follow you to Hell and back if you asked, and you believe him.

Resting your hand on his cheek, you kiss him.

This kiss is a little different from the ones you’ve shared before—more yearning. More desperate. You kiss like there won’t be enough time to do all the things you want to do with each other—to each other. His split tongue bumps against yours, caresses it, and it causes a shiver to go down your spine, like it always does.

You end up lying back on the bed again with Ten’s body crowding yours in, legs tangling together and hips pressing against one another’s. Neither of you have made a move to take the other’s clothes off yet, but then he separates from your lips for a long moment and studies your features, from your eyebrows down to your mouth.

“Touch yourself for me.”

Your mouth drops open slightly.

“I want to see it.” He takes one of your hands and guides it up under your skirt and between your legs, pressing your fingers against your sex through your underwear, and you look at him with wide eyes, taking a deep breath. He lets go of your hand, and you keep yours right where it is. You’re slightly nervous about his black gaze trained on you, unrelenting and prying, but you begin to move your hand anyway.

Over your underwear, you press your finger between your lower lips, sliding between them and over your clit, and a little tremor goes through your body. You find yourself getting wet more quickly than you normally would with Ten watching you as you tease your entrance. You breathe a little heavier but make no sound yet. One of Ten’s hands reaches out for your ankle, though he doesn’t do anything other than keep his fingers there, a light touch that keeps passing back and forth over your ankle bone.

You circle your fingers across your clit more insistently, your legs tensing as the pleasure mounts higher. Ten’s lips part as he watches you, a heavy breath escaping from his chest. The hand on your ankle slides higher up your leg, just below your thigh, like he wants to slide his fingers into the mix and take over, but he doesn’t make a move to do so just yet.

Finally, Ten reaches under your skirt to pull your sticky panties off, sliding them slowly down your legs and leaving them somewhere on the floor. You want him to touch you again, the brush of his hands against your hips not enough, but he doesn’t grant your desire. “Keep going,” he says, leaning back on his hands, and you can see he’s growing hard.

You bring your hand back to its original place between your thighs, sliding through the wetness more easily and shuddering when your fingertips graze over your clit. You slide a finger into yourself then. A small moan slips out, and you close your eyes, but Ten’s fingers pinch your chin—not enough to hurt, but the sudden touch makes you look at him. “Keep your eyes open.” His thumb presses into your lower lip, and he stares at your mouth for a moment like he’s imagining sliding something hard and hot between your lips.

Ten kisses you on the lips again, and this time he trails the kisses down your body until he’s gripping your thighs on either side of his face. You pause in your movements when he reaches the junction of your thighs, and you watch as he grabs your hand and slips your finger out of yourself. He sucks the slick digit into his mouth, and you cannot tear your eyes away from him.

He lets your hand go and pulls you a few inches closer to his face, dragging you across the bed, and you can barely get your bearings back to sit up again when he slips his tongue through your lower lips. You moan, and he responds to that by repeating it again, catching your clit between the split in his tongue, and wiggling both sides.

“Oh Jesus...oh fuck.” Your hands go to Ten’s hair, pulling on it as you push your hips closer to his mouth, your back curving up. He is alluring tucked between your thighs like this, teasing and sucking your clit with his split tongue and prodding his fingers at your hole until he chooses to slide two of them inside.

His free hand keeps you close against his face as he eats you out, that wondrous tongue sliding against the most sensitive part of your body and making you gasp with boundless pleasure. Little droplets of moisture bead at the corners of your eyes from how good it feels, your stomach tensing and releasing as you try your best to keep still.

He has to keep his grip on your body tight when you come, as you try to squirm away from his tongue because of how stimulated you are. He only lets you go after he’s satisfied himself with licking up all the wet that’s spilled from you.

Then he strips your skirt off for you, because he knows you’re not quite in a state to do it for yourself right now. He peels the rest of your clothes off similarly, which doesn’t take much time or effort to do; you’ve dressed lightly for the weather.

Ten looks at you lying beneath him on the bed, his gaze stuck somewhere between awe and lust.

He slips out of his own clothes with a certain practiced ease. Yes, he’s really blue everywhere. He looks mostly human-like everywhere, too, except for the lack of a belly button.

Ten kisses you deeply as he slips into you, and you clutch at his sides. He tries to keep his pace slow at first, maybe for your sake or to just savor how it feels, but he gives into the feeling of you squeezing around him and starts thrusting into you faster. There is already sweat sliding down to his jaw, though you think it might be because of the heat, too.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” comes out of you in a voice you hardly recognize as your own.

His pelvis sliding against your clit from the proximity of your bodies makes you curl your fingers into the strands of his hair, wanting to touch every part of him you can. His lips go to the sweat-slicked skin of your shoulder, leaving little wet kisses behind as he wraps an arm around your waist and simply fucks into you, his shaft dragging against your walls.

He eventually separates himself from your neck, though it comes with some effort, to gaze at your face again. However, he finds that your eyes have drifted shut.

“Do you wanna come?” Ten asks, softly, gently, like you might break apart if he speaks too loud.

You’re a little winded from how he’s thrusting into you and can’t yet see the motive behind this question—because of course you do—but you answer with a shaky “I-I want to.”

“Then don’t look away from me.” His voice becomes harsher on these words.

“I…” Your lips move without any real words behind them as he thrusts into you harder, sinking all the way into you before pulling out to the tip. You want do what he’s just told you, but you find it difficult with the way he’s intent on burying himself into you, his eyes piercing into your own. “Mmm, I-I…”

You don’t know if you can, but the way he’s kindling your rising heat with each thrust makes you want to try very, very hard. Ten keep his hands on the sides of your face so you cannot look anywhere but at him.

The pleasure bears down on you more with each second, and you try to keep your breathing steady as another climax approaches.

“You’re almost there, come on baby,” he coaxes you, sloppily kissing the corner of your mouth before slipping his tongue in again. The way you gasp against his lips and tighten around him signals him to your orgasm, and he sits back to watch it play across your face, smirking at how you moan his name desperately.

Ten’s continued thrusts make you shiver from the flood of sensations overcoming your body, and you whimper at his movements until he pulls out and comes on your abdomen.

Ten gives you time to recover after you come down from your second orgasm, though he makes sure to lay a few more enamored kisses on your weakened body. He gets off the bed and exits the room after that. You don’t bother to ask where he’s going, because you know he’ll be back anyway.

When Ten comes back, he has his camera with him. The teasing tilt of his lips never leaves his face as he points it towards you. He takes a photo of you lying on his bed nude, with the breeze coming in and rustling the tree leaves and your hair, your skin shining bronze under the light of the eternal star. Then he comes closer, making the bed sink under his weight, and nudges your legs apart. He takes more photos of your lower stomach glistening with sweat and his cum—and photos of him sliding his slender fingers between your thighs and bringing you careening into another bout of euphoria.

The camera is soon forgotten after you come again. Ten climbs fully back onto the bed now and pulls you into his lap. His dick is hard again, and the length of it nudges against your lower lips, making you whimper from how sensitive you still are. He shushes you with a kiss and lifts your hips so he can slide into you, his shaft nudging that soft spot inside you and making you grip onto his arms.

You’re too mushy and dazed to do anything but let him push his hips up into you while you cling to him, your head lolling back. Ten’s mouth goes to the open expanse of your neck, and he wets your skin with his tongue.

The kaleidoscope of shapes above you on the ceiling morphs into one glistening reflection, throwing the blurred shapes of your bodies back to you. It’s like looking through a dense fog. You’re a little caught off guard by it, and you stare up at your nude forms. Ten looks up as well to see the cloudy figure of you cradled in his lap, and he only grins and thrusts up into you harder and smacks your ass in reply.

He grinds into you while he has you sitting full on his dick, and you think he must have set off your internal “reset” button somewhere between landing slaps on your ass and repeatedly hitting your g-spot. Your mind is blissfully, amazingly blank. The only clear thing you can distinguish is how he feels in and around you.

When you come this time, it comes with a gush of wetness that makes Ten whisper several smug praises into your ear for being such a good girl and making a mess on him.

As you quickly find out, Ten’s refractory period seems to be nonexistent, while his stamina is overflowing.

Ten knows how to mix the pain with pleasure in a way that enhances both feelings, and you don’t know if you’ve ever experienced anything more perfect. One moment, he’ll say something romantic and fairytale-like to you before shoving your head into the pillow and taking you from behind in the next moment, pulling one of your arms behind you for leverage as he thrusts into you hard. You want him to do whatever he desires to you, and so you let him hammer into you until you think your hips and ass will be bruised by the next morning.

You’ve never knew that sex could be so carnal and so loving at the same time, but this is all of those things, and it makes you feel so full that you could split at the seams. You scream, cry, and moan more times than you can count, so enveloped by pleasure that it seems like the atoms of your body will simply dissolve from the intensity.

When you both finally become too exhausted to continue, it’s still daytime. Of course. But Ten draws the blackout shade forward and seals all the light out, and so you know it must be time to sleep. Time blends together here. Even if it’s not yet the midnight hour, it will be as long as you deem it so.

“Come here,” he says, and rolls you over on the bed so you don’t have to sleep in the wet spot. You grin in sleepy amusement against his neck as he hugs you to his body. “Let’s stay right here.”

You know he’s talking about sleeping for the next few hours, but you can also imagine he’s referring to your new life—one you’ll create together.

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peralta-guaranteed · 4 years ago

Note

good trope or bad trope: one of them waking up from surgery or something and being so high on drugs they forget they're together and the other has to explain it

good trope GOOD trope good trope! and this was probably just a question but I couldn't resiiiist

-*-

It's kind of sad to think about the fact that Amy is already used to monitors beeping in a cold hospital room around her squad and, mostly, around her partner. They've been in so many horrible situations, so many little moments where she's had to worry about them, that today she's almost glad she doesn't have to. Jake's surgery had neither been scheduled nor planned, and there had been a whole lot of panic leading up to it when she drove him to the hospital wincing in pain, his arms clutched around his lower stomach, but the doctor's told her they came in early enough for it to be a more routine procedure rather than an emergency. And now his appendix was out, and he would be hurting and healing for a while, but the trepidation about that is nowhere close to the fear she's used to feeling while sitting in these uncomfortable hospital chairs, wondering when the person in the bed next to her would wake up. The last time she'd been in this position, Rosa was hooked up to so many many more machines, and she looked like a bad wax figurine of herself, all pale and stiff.

Jake looks almost fine, no breathing mask or tube down his nostril, just a little beeping heart monitor and some infusion in his arm. The nurse told her he'd be waking up soon when she lead her into the room, and that they could probably go home later that evening already.

(She also told her that he'd been one of the more amusing patients she'd had under anesthesia, which was not a surprise, and that he'd been asking for her every time he groggily opened his eyes for just a few seconds, which was not a surprise either.)

He blinks awake slowly, eyes darting around the room as if to figure out where he is, before they land on her and stay stuck, his forehead creasing in confusion for a second before he grins.

"Heyyyy, it'sa Santiago!" He tries in a croaky voice, and Amy reaches for the cup of ice water the nurse brought in to hand it to him. He's shaky, but he can handle it alone, she notes almost subconsciously - she remembers enough moments where she's had to feed him ice chips instead because he could barely move his arms.

"Hey." She answers with a softer smile as he gulps down almost the whole cup - considering he still hates water, he must really need it. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, just splendid, thanks." He quips before trying to sit up more and wincing, the stitches in his stomach upset. "What the hell did I do this time to end up here?"

"What?"

"I mean, I don't remember a chase or a fight, but it sure feels like I took a knife to the stomach or something?"

They look at each other, equally confused, before Amy shakes her head.

"You dont remember-? It wasn't a work thing, Jake, your appendix almost burst."

"Ah dang. That's not even a cool story for a new scar." He sighs as he leans back a bit against the pillow and carefully palms the space where she knows the skin is going to be light pink and rougher than usual from now on. "Sorry they made you wait around for my stupid ass to recover, or is the squad at least taking turns?"

She stares at him, her mind racing, and it seems to make him nervous. He's still trying to go for that usual grin, but his eyes are darting around, sticking to parts of her without looking directly into her eyes, and she can see he's getting fidgety. Mixing that with what he's saying, and the way he's saying it - his voice is different, somehow, more - guarded, or distant, it's hard to explain, but she only remembers it from a long time ago - makes her suddenly realise.

He's been given some very heavy duty painkillers and narcotics, she hears the nurse's voice in her head, so he might be disoriented or confused for quite a while. It shows differently in lots of people, so I can't tell you what to expect, but he'll be back to normal once it passes through his system.

He doesn't remember, she thinks. He doesn't remember... a lot.

"Jake." She gets his nervous attention back, trying to school her voice into something calm and friendly, instead of the equally nervous and somewhat excited giggle she wants to let out so bad. "I think you're still working through your medication. Can you tell me what the last thing you remember is?"

He leans back again and stares at the ceiling, and it's hard to read the emotions on his face.

"Just... regular work stuff, to be honest. Nothing big."

"Okay, then what is the last big thing you can think of?"

"Uh." He swallows, and Amy refills his water cup, but he doesn't take it. "I, uh, I remember Hoytsman kidnapping me." He laughs a short laugh, obviously trying to make it seem lighter than it ever was, but that's not the only reason Amy feels her heart jump.

His mind is stuck before their relationship. After Sofia left him. He thinks he's woken up after being injured at work, and there's no one there waiting for him except for a work partner who he's been trying so hard to pretend he doesn't like anymore, and for whom he obviously has to play the "I'm okay!" role still.

"Wow. Uh. Okay." She babbles, trying to find a way to be gentle and not confuse him any more. "Then, uh, I guess, well, your medication should pass soon, I think, and you'll remember more, so don't worry-"

"Amy." He's staring at her when she finally looks up, and notes her shorter hair, her far more comfortable outfit than the pantsuits he sees her wear at work, and even while high on drugs it's not that hard for him to put two and two together. "How much am I missing?"

"Quite a lot." She finally admits, but drops her look down into her lap, to her folded hands, and she unconsciously covers her wedding ring before he can see it. "A few years."

"Years?!" He squeals while leaning forward and then groans, because that has definitely upset his wound.

"It's okay, the nurse said it would happen." She quickly tries to calm him. "It's - you'll remember when the anaesthetic passes properly, so it's alright."

"Alright, yeah." He nods and finally settles into the pillow again, as silence envelops them for a few awkward moments, in which Amy's mind races through all the things he's missing right now.

"Okay." He interrupts her sad little mental storybook of their life's drama. "Let's play a game until then, huh? I call it 'Shock&Tell'."

"Jake-"

"It's easy, you'll get the rules. Basically, you tell me stuff I don't know right now and see how shocked you can get me."

"That's not funny-"

"Oh, I think it is. I know how much you like to have me speechless." He grins at her, and she can't resist.

"Title of your sex tape."

"Amy Santiago!" He gasps with a laugh, but there's hesitation in his eyes, and she remembers they weren't exactly at a flirting stage back where he is right now. "For that alone, you have to play a round with me."

"I can't think of anything shocking at the moment." She lies, and he sees right through her.

"Okay, then tell me the worst thing you think happens to me in those years, and the best. From your opinion."

She sighs and stares at her hands again, but she knows he won't let up - he's not gotten any less obnoxious from back then to now.

"Alright. The worst thing. You went to jail." She states, matter of fact, and watches his eyes practically bulge out of his head.

"Holy shi- WhAT?! Like, for a crime? Or-what-did I-what?!"

"You were innocent!" She says as fast as she can, and watches him deflate only a little.

"I sure fucking hope so! But still, what- how- why- ?"

"You and Rosa were framed by a criminally corrupt cop. It took us a few months to get evidence against her and have her sentenced instead."

"A few months." He whispers and stares at his hands, scrunching up the blanket he's wrapped in.

"You weren't alone." Her voice is soft and calm now, seeing him in such a state of unrest, and it takes all she has not to pull him into a hug - it'd probably both confuse and actually hurt him right now, given the stitches. "I mean, you were alone in prison, but we- the squad - we were all fighting for you and Rosa, and Charles and I visited you, and we- I- we never gave up on you."

He smiles, soft and a little broken, but he nods, as if that was something he'd always expect.

"Okay, now the best thing. Because lemme tell you, Santiago, you have to make up for that suckerpunch."

She smiles much wider now, almost grins as she leans forward to finally reach for his hand, entangling their fingers (to which he goes along almost automatically) and feeling her rings clink against the one on his. Jake's eyes are frozen on her hand in his, where he can see a shiny wedding band over what is clearly his Nana's old engagement ring, and he's barely breathing.

"Oh my god." He whispers a moment later, squeezing her hand almost painfully tight as he looks at her again, and she's still smiling.

"We're married?"

"Yeah."

"To- to each other?"

"Yeah, you doofus." She laughs.

"I'm- I'm your husband." He whispers again. "Even thought I went to jail?!"

"Well", she still laughs softly at the absolute shine in his eyes, the awe on his face. "You proposed after that. But I would've married you before, anyway." I would've married you before a lot of things you don't remember, she thinks but doesn't dare say, for fear he'll ask about those other things.

"You're my wife." He says, still stunned, and she nods. "We're married."

She nods again, and watches as the confused awe on his face turns into an almost relieved joy, and his bottom lip trembles as tears start rolling down his cheeks.

"Jake..." She whispers in turn now, her free hand (that is not currently being gripped by both of his) cupping his face and wiping away some of the tears that keep flowing.

"You're happy?" He asks with trepidation in his voice, and Amy wonders if the emotional rollercoaster is another side-effect of his medicine or just his lowered inhibitions. "I'm a good husband?"

"I couldn't wish for a better husband. You make me very happy." She's almost close to tears now herself. "I love you so much."

He gasps at that, and pulls her still gripped hand up to his face, pulling her closer to him in the process.

"I love you, Amy." is his answer, and she realises he means it, even with all the things he doesn't remember, all the things he doesn't know yet. "I love you so much. I can't believe I get to marry you."

His tears have calmed down a little by now, and she fixes her awkward pose of leaning forward and having both arms reach for his face by climbing up onto the bed with him, as he lowers their hands and looks at her with stars in his eyes and so much love on his face, she can't resist to pass the last few inches and kiss him.

His eyes are still closed when she pulls back and touches her forehead to his, and he's whispering again.

"Wow."

"Well, that's certainly an appreciated reaction." She giggles.

"Don't tell me I don't react like that every time you kiss me, because there's no way I'll believe that."

"Yeah." She smiles again as he opens his eyes and smiles back. "Yeah, you kinda do."

And just to prove it, she kisses him again.

#B99 #Brooklyn 99 #Peraltiago #Jake Peralta #Amy Santiago #my writing #ficlet

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