#forgive typos and the like i finished at 5am and sleep is good

[iturbide]

Hanneman’s lab in Garreg Mach had become delightfully lively in the years after the war.  It had begun quietly enough with Linhardt, who had renounced his noble title and returned to the Officer’s Academy -- ostensibly to teach, though he frequently lost himself so deeply in Crest research that he arrived late to his classes.  Then came Lysithea, who had come to aid his Crest research in hopes of removing her dual Crests and extending her life again, and later adopted the mantle of his heir and successor.  And finally Annette, who had taken up a teaching position at the Royal School of Sorcery in Fhirdiad, but made increasingly frequent trips to consult on magical theory and practice with her old professor.  There were others, too, who made routine visits to the scholar’s humble lab: Dorothea, when she had the occasional break from opera performances, often dropped in to check on Linhardt and her favorite magic instructor; Mercedes, when she had a moment to spare in her busy routine at the orphanage, would visit to share her latest treats with Annette; Lorenz, on the rare occasions he had business in the area, made a point of stopping by to deliver the finest sweets the Alliance had to offer to appease Lysithea’s legendary sweet tooth.  Their research was ever fruitful, the days frequently eventful, and the company always delightful. 

With the start of the Great Tree Moon, Annette had begun a frenzied cleaning spree of their shared workspace; Lysithea had joined in without much need for encouragement, and the two together had eventually bullied Linhardt into pulling his weight, since a not insignificant portion of the book clutter was because of his studies, both in progress and abandoned.  Hanneman himself did what he could, but the years had finally begun to catch up to him, and though spring had finally arrived its warmth had yet to catch up; after a bit of arthritic hobbling about doing his share, the ladies released him from his duties (in spite of the very vocal complaints from their belligerent fellow scholar), and he settled into a more advisory role, directing the shelving and reorganizing of several bookcases worth of research material that had been pulled for study in the preceding months. 

Afternoon gave way to evening, and the sun had just barely dipped below the horizon when there came a knock outside.  As the only one with his hands free, Hanneman creaked to his feet, picking his way through the yet-unattended stacks of equipment.  “Coming, coming!” he called when the sound came again, rather more tentative this time.  “Just a moment, now...ah, here we are.”  Unlocking the door, he pushed it carefully open, adjusting his spectacles and squinting at the shadows figures outside, regretting that he’d not brought a lamp with him…

“Greetings, Professor Hanneman.”

“It’s good to see you again, Professor.”

He recognized the voices in an instant, and a smile broke across his face.  “Lorenz!  Dorothea!  How wonderful to see you both again.”

“Who is it, Professor?” Annette called from somewhere behind him. 

“Whoever it is, can they come back later?” Lysithea added.

“Do pardon the mess,” he chuckled, shuffling out of the doorway to invite them inside.  “We’re doing a bit of spring cleaning.”

“Goodness, it looks like you have your work cut out for you,” the diva giggled, linking her arm with Hanneman’s and helping him through the clutter.  “I hope we’re not in the way.”

“Gracious, no!” the professor laughed.  “It’s always a treat to have you visit -- and both of you, at that!  What a marvelous coincidence...I wonder if it might be a property of the Crest of Gloucester?  Such coincidences do seem to follow Lysithea...”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Lorenz chuckled.

“Oh, don’t be that way!” Dorothea teased.  “I think it sounds wonderful.  You should look into it and tell me all about it next time.”

As they emerged from the hall, the three former students turned from their work to see who had happened by...and promptly abandoned it in favor of greeting their unexpected guests.  “Dorothea!  Welcome back,” Annette giggled, skirting around the teetering stack of books she’d been organizing.  “How was the latest opera?  Another smashing success?”

“Sold out performances, every one,” the diva agreed.  “There wasn’t even standing room at the last show.”

“It’s nice to see you again, Lorenz,” Lysithea said, sidling up beside him to eye the box he carried.  “Those wouldn’t happen to be more of those honey cakes, would they?”

“Perhaps,” he smiled, holding the prize up and well out of her reach.  “But I insist that we have tea with it, so you simply have to be patient.”

“Tea, is it?” Hanneman piped up.  “I’ll see to that, then--”

“Oh, no, please, no need to trouble yourself,” the nobleman insisted.  “I would be happy to see to it, Professor.”

“Well, then, by all means,” he chuckled, settling comfortably into his favorite armchair while the others scattered between the overstuffed and well-worn couches around the scuffled tea table.  Wisely choosing to take the box of sweets with him, to Lysithea’s clear dismay, Lorenz wove his way through the clutter toward the kitchen space tucked away in a far corner of the lab and swiftly vanished from sight. 

Sprawling across the arm of the couch, Linhardt cast a sidelong glance at the diva sitting beside him.  “So what brings you here?  I thought the latest opera wasn’t set to close for another month.”

Dorothea smiled, lacing her fingers beneath her chin.  “Here I thought you didn’t pay attention to the opera, Lin.”

“Normally I don’t,” he yawned, “but it’s always four months between your visits, give or take, since you only ever come after a show ends its run.  It’s only been three months since you were here last.”

“Aw, Lin, I didn’t know you cared so much.”

“Did something happen?” Lysithea pressed. . 

“Well...yes,” Dorothea agreed.  “It’s actually why I’m here: I have big news to share with you.”

“You’re not quitting the opera, are you?” Annette asked worriedly, scooting to the edge of her seat. 

“Right now I’m just on leave, but...this is going to be my last show, yes.”

“Oh, no!  And I never even got to hear you perform!” 

“If that’s all you’re worried about, I can see about getting a special seat reserved for you at one of the shows,” the diva giggled. 

“It seems a rather sudden change,” Hanneman offered gently.  “What brings this on?”

“Well, that’s the real news,” Dorothea beamed.  “I’m getting married.”

A moment passed while the news sank in, varying looks of surprise, elation, and confusion crossing each face.  

“Married?” Annette squeaked. 

“Since when?” Lysithea pressed. 

“To who?” Linhardt added. 

“Oh, we came together,” the diva replied.  “I’m sure he’ll be here momentarily, he just had something to do first.”

All eyes turned toward the door of the lab, waiting for another knock to break the stillness.  Dorothea hummed to herself, a half-familiar tune from somewhere no one could quite recall…

“Here we are,” Lorenz announced, returning with a lavish tea tray.  “Sweet-apple blend and honey cakes direct from the finest patissier in the Alliance.”

“My favorite!” Dorothea giggled.  “How sweet of you.”

In an instant, everyone in the room turned to Lorenz, pouring tea for each of them and idly humming the same melody the diva had while she waited. 

“HIM!?”

Lorenz jumped at the collective shout, clutching the teapot protecitvely as he looked between the mages...and then turning to Dorothea.  “I thought we were going to tell them together.”

“I’m sorry,” she giggled, wiping her eyes and struggling to hold back more laughter.  “I just had to see the look on their faces when they realized.”

“My goodness, what a surprise this is,” Hanneman chuckled.  “I must confess, this is quite possibly the last thing I’d expected.”

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright, Dorothea?” Linhardt asked.

“I thought you two weren’t even on speaking terms!” Annette pointed out, clearly trying to keep the nobleman from hearing while he delivered a slice of cake and a cup of tea to the professor. 

“What did he do?” Lysithea pressed.

“Is he blackmailing you?” Linhardt ventured. 

“We’ll give him what-for if you need us to,” Annette agreed, rolling up her sleeve in preparation for a brawl. 

The diva was very clearly losing her battle, muffling her laughter in her sleeve rather than try to hold it in any longer.  “There’s no need for that, really,” she insisted. 

“He just wants to marry you because you’re a famous opera star, doesn’t he,” Lysithea muttered, shooting a sidelong glare at the nobleman in question. 

“Well, to be fair, back in the Academy I was just looking for a nobleman so I could marry into wealth,” Dorothea pointed out.  “I couldn’t really hold it against him for wanting a bride with status, since that’s all I wanted, myself.  But no, this isn’t just about me being an opera diva.”

“Then how did it happen?” Annette whispered, leaning in conspiratorially.  “How did someone like Lorenz win you over?”

The diva smiled, cupping her chin in one hand.  “He’s not the man I thought he was.”

“You’re making a mistake,” Linhardt warned. 

“Maybe,” Dorothea shrugged.  “But I’m still willing to see where it goes.”

“You’re sure about this?” Lysithea asked.  “It is Lorenz, after all…”

The diva grinned, canting her head toward the nobleman.  “Lorenz,” she called, “everyone’s just dying to know how you won a prize like me.”

Tearing his attention away from the tea service, Lorenz squared his shoulders.  “What utter nonsense!  A prize?” 

Linhardt glowered at him from his place on the far side of the couch; across from him, Annette rolled up her other sleeve while sparks began to dance between Lysithea’s fingers.  But the nobleman paid them no mind at all, setting the teapot aside and offering his hand to Dorothea instead.  “All I did was state my intentions and my feelings; she is the one who gave me a chance to make good upon them.  For that, I am not only fortunate, but profoundly grateful to her.”

Dorothea raised her free hand, and the nobleman caught it without hesitation, brushing a kiss across her knuckles; casting a sidelong grin at the mages across the table, she saw both Annette and Lysithea gaping in astonishment at the display.  

While Lorenz resumed slicing the cake, Hanneman chuckled and sipped his tea.  “I imagine there’s a story behind this.”

“You have to tell us how this happened,” Lysithea agreed, taking the offered cup and dessert. 

“Did he make some big public speech at the opera?” Annette asked eagerly as she accepted her own. 

“Oh, nothing so grand as that,” Lorenz chuckled.  “While I like to think of myself as a romantic, I’m afraid this would not make for a timeless love story.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that -- I think it could make for a lovely opera, myself,” the diva giggled.  “Two people with similar goals divided by status, thinking the worst of each other but drawn inexorably closer until they at last break free of the confines imposed by their birth…”

“Just hurry up and tell us already,” Linhardt groaned. 

“Oh, Lin, you have no sense of drama whatsoever,” Dorothea sighed.  “But fine, have it your way.”

Taking the cup and saucer Lorenz offered, the diva turned a warm smile on him, watching a trace of color bloom across his high cheekbones as he returned it in kind.  “Alright,” she began, “it happened at the opera a few weeks ago…”

[radiosandrecordings]

Ace fic request if ya feel: Jmart taking a bath together at Upton, w some nonsexual nudity/intimacy? Thank u!!

“Ahaha, I’ll ask for some ace fic prompts and do drabbles for it!” I said, naively. 3K words later. Thank you Gwyn for reading over this and fixing my typos because it is. now coming up to 5am because I decided to write 3K in one sitting

CWs for talk of nudity but no one ever gets full nakey. Jon also has a brief panic about not being able to protect Martin without the Eye.

Ao3 version too 

They’d probably been awake for an hour or so by the time the feeling of grime coating his skin became intolerable. 

It felt wrong, really, the juxtaposition of the soft, clean cotton under his head and the greasy knots his hair had woven itself into over the course of their journey. Like it was insulting to the pillow, the case of which, Jon guessed absently, was worth more than his entire bed back in his flat, if it was still standing.

And wasn’t that something? To have to guess that and not just be aware. As it normally was, the Beholding would inform him that that wasn’t quite true, as while the sheets on this bed were certainly nice they were more chosen for display purposes than with the intent of anyone truly sleeping in them. The house was a museum. The curators had not supposed upon the current scenario. 

The current scenario being that there were two men lying in it, half asleep, lying still and just staring at each other with an eye-watering fondness. They had spoken, when they first awoke. Got out all the words they wanted to say. The “Where are we” and the “How long were we asleep?” and the “Is it finally safe to rest?” and the “I love you so, so much.” 

Now the thing to break the silence was the sound of Martin’s stomach making its discontent known. This, of course, sent them both into peals of laughter, because when was the last time they’d felt mundane hunger? 

“Do you think they even have food here?” Martin asks, still buried up to his neck in duvet. 

“Perhaps? Salesa surely has to eat, if we do.” 

“Yeah, but Annabelle though,” Martin chews his lip in mock contemplation. “What if we go downstairs and open up all the cupboards and it’s just… Flies as far as the eye can see, all wrapped up for eating. There’s one in the fridge all done up on a platter like a Christmas ham. Cloves spiked into it and all.” 

Jon winces. “I’d really rather not picture that right now, if you don’t mind.”

“Ah, course,” Martin says, looking slightly sheepish as they lapse into silence again. “Should probably go check though. Don’t exactly want to have gotten through all that just to starve. Though I’d happily let this be my death bed, honestly. Don’t think I’ve slept that well in… Ever.” 

“Mmh, now that you mention it, I’m quite peckish as well… Odd, that. Had almost forgotten what it felt like.” Jon heaves himself into a sitting position, and takes stock of the door to his left. “Probably the bathroom. Ensuite. Very nice.” 

“You want to get cleaned up before we go scavenging?” Martin asks, prying the duvet away like he’s pulling teeth. Jon feels bad that they can’t just stay in bed all day. He hadn’t been able to sleep, in the safe house, but Martin had chosen to dream. He might be biased, but Jon figures that that was probably worse. Martin seemed now to be relishing the opportunity to relax.

“I think we rather need it. Not keen to embarrass ourselves in front of our hosts a second time, so I’d rather not appear downstairs looking like something the cat dragged in.” Jon shoves the duvet away and gets, somewhat shakily, to his feet. Damn. No Beholding means the pain from- Where- The wound… His leg hurts. It means his leg hurts something fierce. He hopes he can stand in the shower. 

When he makes his way over to the door and swings it open, it turns out not to be a concern. The bathroom, in the fashion of the rest of the house, has no shower. Instead, a comically beautiful bathtub sits against the opposing wall. It’s a clawfoot, gold varnish painted over its feet where porcelain turns to antique wood. 

“You want to go first then?” Martin asks, slowly pulling the duvet around himself again. 

Jon rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’ll go on ahead. You enjoy the extra time.” 

Martin gives him a smug look and burrows down again. God, Jon really, really loves him. Which is why, when he puts his hand on the door handle to close it behind him, he freezes. 

Statement readings aside, this will be the first time Martin has been out of his sight in… However you choose to categorize the indefinite amount of time they spent roaming the hellscape. And even then, Jon had his powers. If anything threatened Martin he’d be there to help him. To save him. The Eye offers no such comfort now. Jon doesn’t want to close the door. He doesn’t want Martin out of his line of sight. Not with Annabelle here. He won't leave him alone, not now. 

“... Jon? You okay?”

Jon realises he’s been standing in the doorway for at least a minute now, hand frozen in indecision. He blinks a few times, trying to bring his eyes back into focus. He opens his mouth, and finds himself gaping slightly, looking for the words. 

Martin shifts, sitting back up again. “Jon, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

It comes out like a croak. “I- I don’t Know.”

Martin’s tone is gentle, placating, two hands gently offered out in Jon’s direction. “You don’t know what’s wrong?”

“No, I don’t Know,” he can feel tears beading at the corners of his eyes and tries to push down the lump in his throat. He’s gone this long without crying, why does he have to go and do it now, ruin the peaceful moment that he’d watch Martin lapse into like a drowning man with air. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Martin hushes, sliding out of bed and walking round from his side. He brings his arms around Jon and just lets them stay there, not pulling him against his chest in a restrictive grasp, but just laying his hands against his back, letting him know he’s there. 

Despite his best attempts, Jon lets out a hiccup. “And- And that should be a good thing. It should. I don’t want to Know. But it’s… I’ve spent so long with this constant presence at the back of my skull and now it feels… It’s raw and it’s vulnerable. Annabelle Cane could be a wall away and I’m vulnerable and that means you are too. If I’m in another room, I can’t Know if something is wrong, and more importantly, if something does go wrong I can’t save you.”

The right wrapped around to hold Jon’s left hip, Martin’s free hand has been tracing soothing patterns into his back through his shirt. It stills when Jon finishes. He takes a moment, before breathing out heavily through his nose. He leans back slightly so he can look down and match eye levels. 

“Jon,” he says, and his voice is as soft as that duvet felt. “I can’t imagine what that’s like. I’m so sorry. I thought being free of the Eye would be a good thing, I didn’t even consider how it would feel for you. I can’t promise nothing will go wrong, because… Well, our track record speaks for itself. But I can try and ease your fears.” He brushes Jon’s fringe out of the way, and presses a quick kiss to his forehead. “Tub seems pretty big. How do you feel about taking a bath together?” 

Jon feels his face, flushed from tears, pale. And oh what a relief, to feel a fear so comparatively… Mundane. To not be afraid of the cosmic monstrosity in the back of your brain, or the spiders with motives that scuttle across the ceiling, or the fact that you are responsible for the suffering of billions. Oh to be afraid of… Intimacy. 

Martin must feel him tense, because the hand on his back drops away, and the one at his hip loosens its grip. “I’m sorry, if that’s too much, we can just-”

“No,” Jon cuts him off, and is surprised at his own voice. “No, I… I would like that. That sounds nice.”

He knows it’s from his earlier anxieties, but Martin must still be able to feel Jon trembling slightly under his hand, because he continues to give Jon a sceptical look. 

“Forgive me for being blunt, but you really don’t seem up for that. If that’s not in your… Intimacy wheelhouse, I get it.” 

“I’m just a little shaken, is all,” Jon says, but he knows there’s a truth to Martin’s words. He knows Martin respects him and his orientation, they’d had long discussions about it in the safe house, about boundaries and desires and how Jon wanted to spend his days glued to Martin’s side but he under no circumstances wished to have sex with him. He knows that this isn’t what that is, that Martin means it in the most innocent fashion imaginable, but there’s still something about the idea of close, physical proximity while naked that makes the hairs on his arm stand on end and his stomach churn. 

It’s not that he was bashful about it. He’d seen Martin naked before, gotten changed in the same room most mornings and evenings in the safe house, but that was just a symptom of existing in the same space, never something actively done with the intent to exhibit. It had, predictably, stirred no feelings in him. The idea of them so close while not clothed… No, that wouldn’t be happening. 

“I- Can I make one request, though?” Jon asks, tilting his no longer watery eyes up to meet Martin’s. 

“Anything,” Martin replies, no hesitation to be found. 

Jon feels his face flush again, and the rapid pooling and draining of blood from his face must be doing terrible things to his circulation. “Can- Can we keep our underwear on? Please? God, sorry, that must sound horribly childish-” 

“No, no that’s okay. Whatever you need to feel comfortable,” Martin says and his voice is not so much laced with sincerity as built from bricks of it. 

They break apart and Martin ambles through the doorway and over to the bath, turning the water on. It sputters, clearly struggling after years of disuse, but after a few seconds it flows clear. Martin waits for the brackish residue to be cleaned away before popping the plug into place.

Jon preoccupies himself with looking over the shelves. They were well stocked, likely by Salesa, as Jon has a hard time believing that plastic bottles full of opalescent purple liquid were considered period appropriate set dressing. He pops the lid open on one and is met by a strong whiff of lavender. He tucks it under his arm before swiping a shampoo and matching conditioner. 

“Find something you like?” Martin asks, leaning against the edge of the tub. Jon hums a response before joining him. The tub was filling up quickly now, almost half way full and the water is pleasantly warm when he drags his fingers through it. Jon deposits two of the bottles where they can be grabbed when needed, before taking the lavender body wash and drawing swirls into the water until a layer of foam and bubbles begin to build on the surface. 

When Jon turns back to face Martin, his fingers are twitching at the hem of his t-shirt. Whoever was responsible for transferring them from cold marble floor to warm bed had also seen to it that their shoes were removed, as well as their bags and coats, which Jon had seen folded and placed over a chair in the corner of the bedroom. They were both down to their now ripped, muddied and bloodied trousers, and two v-neck t-shirts from the same set, Jon’s of which was tucked into his jeans to disguise the fact that it was several sizes too large. What possible conclusion could be drawn from that?

Martin cleared his throat. “Do you mind, then, if I…?”

“Yes, of course, go ahead.” 

Martin pulled his shirt over his head. 

It’s not that Jon didn’t find him attractive. He did, very much so, just in the romantic sense. So seeing Martin shirtless was similar to seeing him in a particularly flattering outfit. It didn’t change the way he felt about him, just intensified it. He was very handsome and Jon enjoyed getting to look at him. 

He pulls his own shirt over his head, before turning back to trail his hands through the water again, trying to gage the temperature and encourage more bubbles. When he turns back to face Martin again, he’s fiddling with his belt, eventually getting it undone and letting his trousers drop. Jon does the same. And then nothing more happens, and Jon breathes a sigh of relief. It’s not that he hadn’t trusted Martin to keep his word and not fully strip on him, it was just.. It was a relief. 

“Shall we?” Martin asks, gesturing towards the water. 

“Let’s,” Jon responds, hooking one leg over the edge before stepping fully into the bath, and letting himself sink below the water. 

He’s just about acclimated when suddenly the water is rising slightly as Martin joins him, placing himself at the other end of the tub. There’s not enough room for his legs, so he ends up with his knees close to his chest, sticking out of the water. Jon’s just about fit, stretching down to the other end of the bath and bracketing each side of Martin’s hips. 

If the bed was heaven, this is absolutely blissful. The warm water surrounds his aching joints, slowly massaging them as it laps around him. The water, just seconds earlier clean and pure, is already starting to take on a stale quality as the dirt begins to slough off of the two of them, but Jon can’t bring himself to care for relief that it’s no longer coating his skin. He thinks the lavender may have been a bad choice, because between it and the warmth he’s finding it hard not to fall asleep again. 

“This okay?” Martin asks, because he’s still worried about Jon and his comfort and that makes his heart ache with affection, that someone would care that much about him and his boundaries. 

“Far more than okay,” he responds, dragging one hand down the other arm in an attempt to get some stubborn filth off. Martin is doing the same, except he’s wisely taken a sponge from somewhere and is scrubbing at a spot on his ankle where his trouser and boot hadn’t quite met and the Buried had decided to leave a crusted circle in its wake. 

They sit in silence for quite a while, each taking care of their own needs before Jon reaches one arm out of the bath to make a swipe at the bottle of shampoo. 

“Here, let me,” Martin says, breaking the quiet. He shifts forward slightly, on instinct, before pausing and rocking back slightly. “If you want, that is. Do you?” 

“Do I what?” 

“Do you want me to do your hair? It’s just- It’s probably easier, y’know, than you trying to do it yourself.” 

“And far more romantic,” Jon adds, smiling as he leans over to press a kiss to Martin’s freshly cleaned cheek. 

“That too. Do you want to turn around?” 

Jon answers wordlessly by shifting until he’s facing away from Martin. He’s surprised, but not unpleasantly so, when Martin’s arms wrap around him and gently pull him backwards until his back is just shy of flush with Martin’s chest. It’s very intimate. It’s very nice. 

“That okay?” Martin asks again, and more than ‘I love you’, that’s a phrase Jon will never grow tired of hearing because it means Martin truly cares for his comfort. 

“Absolutely.” 

“Good,” Martin says, as he uncaps the shampoo and pours a small puddle of it into his hands. Even turned away, Jon can smell the wafts of artificial apple scenting in the stuff. 

When Martin starts to gently drag his fingers against Jon’s scalp, he can feel himself almost melt under the touch. His spine loses all tension and he lets himself fall back entirely against Martin’s chest, and it’s only the knowledge that he needs to keep still for Martin to actually do his job that stops him from turning and burrowing his face there. 

“I really hope that was a positive thing and you haven’t just fainted on me. Like, literally on me,” Martin says from behind him and this close, pressed up against him Jon can feel it reverberating in Martin’s chest. 

“Still conscious, don’t worry. That’s just… Very nice.” 

“Oh! Well… Good.” 

This continues for a few minutes, Martin slowly making his way from the scalp down to the roots of Jon’s hair, untangling it with his fingers and then repeating the process with the conditioner until his hair ran smooth under Martin’s hands. Even when Jon knows he’s long finished any actual hair care, Martin continues to run his fingers through the hair, just because. Jon loved him for it.

Eventually, both of Martin’s hands come to rest against Jon’s torso. “This okay?” 

“Yes. I don’t mind any of the touching, as long as it’s… Nowhere previously established to be out of bounds.” 

“Gotcha,” Martin says, pressing a kiss to Jon’s shoulder that makes his brain fizzle like fireworks. 

It takes Jon a minute to fully realise what Martin is doing. Two hands trace lines along his ribcage, one on each side, thumbs gently drawing and redrawing a pattern. His scars. 

Then, the hands travel upwards. Again, two lines along his chest, traced with as much tender care, and Jon’s brain has gone a little fuzzy. He’s unused to such casual touching. There is nothing hurried about it, no urgency, no purpose other than to make him feel good. To make him feel loved and cherished, and if he’s being honest, it’s working. No ulterior motive. This isn’t the lead up to anything. It just exists on it’s own as an experience he gets to have without worrying about what comes after, because he knows the answer is nothing. 

After, Martin shifts slightly, leaning forward. One hand cups Jon’s elbow, raising that arm out of the water as one by one, from shoulder to palm, Martin makes his way down pressing a soft kiss to each and every circular scar. He repeats the process with the other arm. As if to finish it off, he presses a slow, soft, close mouthed kiss to the line that stretches across the front of Jon’s neck.

He’s perfect. Martin Blackwood is perfect and Jon doesn’t know what he did to deserve… This. This quiet barrage of love, the consideration and care poured into it something Jon never thought he would be worthy of, let alone have become a reality.

Jon twists to lie sideways, pressed against Martin with his head tucked under Martin’s chin. Martin’s knees bracket his shoulders on either side and he feels safe. He is in the eye of the storm, a brief respite from the dreadful horrors that ravage the world outside their bubble, but with Martin Blackwood he is safe.

[escapewriter]

Halo

pairing : student!seungkwan x student!reader

synopsis : being in love with your best friend caused you to make some very impulsive decisions like, oh look at that, taking him to New York to watch Beyoncé perform.

genre : fluff

word count : 1.5k

a/n : can not believe i came up with this but it made my heart flutter lol. this isn’t proof read to perfection so im sorry if there are any typos or grammar mistakes.

svt written masterlist || main masterlist

~

“Hey Boo!” Seungkwan whipped his head to find you running up to him. “YN? What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in class,” You leaned forward, your hand resting on your knee as you panted for air. “You good? That was barely a run,” standing back up straight, you looked at your best friend dead in the eye.

“You have to be free this coming break.”

You and Seungkwan have been best friends since he moved next door when you were in middle school. You both walked to school together, ate food at the convenience store together, and went to school dances together, of course platonically, for him at least.

No surprise, you are totally infatuated with the man that is Boo Seungkwan, which brings you here, standing in front of him, with Chan and Vernon behind him, concerned looks on their facial features.

“I think I am, why?” Grinning, you lifted your head a little higher, a proud smile on your face and turned around, your back facing him, “you might wanna speak to your mom Boo, she has some important news for you.”

You walked away from him, going to your final class of the day, excitement bubbling in your chest as you thought about what’s in store for Boo Seungkwan

~

The next morning, you were woken up at 5am to Seungkwan banging at your front door. You opened the door, glaring at the man who had a backpack and suitcase, “Seungkwan, I know you’re excited, but our flight isn’t until 11, so please, let me sleep!” he walked past you and into your living room, “How the hell are you not excited? We’re going to New York!” He began to sing Empire State of Mind as you crashed onto the sofa.

“YN, what are you doing? You should get ready! It’s a long flight but a big day!” You groaned into the pillow, tuning out his loud voice.

He looked at your slumped form on the couch and grabbed a cushion, hitting your back with it repeatedly. “Get! Up! You can sleep on the plane!” You sat up, snatching the pillow away from him. “As I said before, It is 5am. Our flight is at 11! Either you let me sleep or I will rip up your ticket.” He pouted and slumped down on the couch, turning on the TV.

“I’m waking you up at 7,” “Thank you.”

~

“YN,” the sound of your mom’s voice filled your ears as you slowly opened your eyes. You looked at Seungkwan who was fast asleep next to you and shot up, checking the time on the clock.

“Sweetie don’t worry, it’s only 7:15, you have time to get ready.” You nodded and kissed your mom’s cheek, thanking her, and went to your room.

As you got ready, you pictured Seungkwan’s reaction to the gift you got him. It wasn’t his birthday or anything, you just felt that he needed an appreciation gift. You haven’t been able to spend as much time with him because you’ve been working extra hours just so you could save up for this trip. But of course, he’s noticed your lack of activities spent with him, causing him to think that he hasn’t been a good friend. What a perfect way to show him how important he is to you.

You finished getting ready and brought your suitcase and backpack to the living room, Seungkwan laying sprawled out on the couch, still out like a light. Your mom came into the room from the kitchen with a tray of snacks for you both to eat for breakfast.

“Seungkwan, wake up,” you shook his shoulder as he opened his eyes and processed his surroundings. He yawned and stretched, looking at the food that was on the table, digging in.

“You didn’t wake me up at 7,” he looked up at you with wide eyes, and then focused on the clock that was behind you, “holy crap it’s 7:45.” You laughed and ate some strawberries, “My mom is gonna drop us off so we’re probably gonna leave soon.”

On cue, your mom emerged from her room, dressed and ready to go, “alright, let's get going. You both have everything? Passport? Plane ticket?” The two of you nodded your head, “Okay then, let’s go.”

~

You yawned as the two of you retrieved your suitcases from the cab driver. “Thank you Sir, have a good rest of your night.” Turning to Seungkwan, you smiled as he looked around the area, “You like it?” He looked down at you, “It’s more enjoyable because I know it’s going to be easier to get around. Thank god you speak english.” You laughed and slightly pushed him for teasing you.

“YN, where is the hotel at?” You pointed to the building that was right across the street. “We can settle in for the night, unless you want to go eat something.” He debated for a moment, “No, I ate enough on the plane. Let’s go check in and sleep, we have a lot of touring to do tomorrow.”

You smiled at him as he began to cross the street, both of your suitcases in his hands. You think that this was a good idea, but now, you don’t know how you’re going to contain everything.

~

“Does it look like I’m holding it?” Seungkwan yelled at you as you positioned the camera at an angle so it would look like he had the Statue of Liberty in his palm, “Yeah! Now smile!” He shot you a bright smile, happiness glowing in his eyes as the camera made a clicking noise.

He ran up to you, “How does it look?” You opened up the picture and showed it to him as he smiled and said, “Perfect!” The two of you continued touring the city, exploring places that you have done some research on as well as Seungkwan suggesting places that Vernon’s mom recommended.

You ended up at a small cafe, sitting in a booth by the window. You both ate your muffins in silence as Seungkwan looked back at some of the pictures that were taken. You looked at him and smiled to yourself, thinking about giving him the surprise now. Yeah, going to New York was only part of the surprise.

“Seungkwan?” He hummed, his eyes not leaving the camera but his head moving up to face you. You smiled again, “Seungkwan?” His eyes moved to stare into yours, “You can’t get mad at me for this, and you can’t top this either, but tonight, we’re going to a concert.”

His eyes widened, “Really?? Who’s performing?” You thought about keeping the secret a little longer so you twisted the truth a bit. “Jay-Z.”

~

You entered Madison Square Garden with Seungkwan behind you. “I know that this is a great arena and Jay-Z is cool, but I just don’t really know some of his songs.” After finding your seat, you sat down, “Oh please, you were literally singing Empire State of Mind before we left Korea.” He turned towards you abruptly, “That’s his song? I thought it was Alicia Keys’ song. Oh my god, do you think she’ll guest star tonight?” “Oh, someone will definitely be a guest star tonight.”

As more people fill in the empty seats, the lights begin to dim as people start to stand up. “Oooo yes, Jay-Z in all his glory. I still feel really bad because I only know one song,” laughing, you slightly shoved him, “I’m sure he’ll forgive you. But look, everyone is standing, you learn something new everyday.” ‘What exactly do you learn? That American’s stand during concerts when they have seats that are meant to be sat on?”

Suddenly, an instrumental started playing as the crowd began to cheer. The colorful lights shone the arena as the spotlight flashed onto the performer. “That doesn’t look like Jay-Z,” “Seungkwan be quiet and just look,” He focused on the big screen, the unknown performer still a silhouette until they lifted up their face and presented the audience with a bright smile.

“Holy fuck, that’s Beyoncé. YN! THAT IS BEYONCÉ! YOU TOOK ME TO A BEYONCÉ CONCERT??” Seungkwan began to shake your shoulders as you laughed at his reaction. Crazy in Love boomed in your eardrums, the big smile on his face making your heart swell.

“I can’t believe you got us tickets to watch Beyoncé! God, I could kiss you right now!” Not knowing what he said, he turned back to watch her perform as you lost your breath like you ran a marathon. You grabbed his shoulders and forced him to look at you.

“Do it, or I’ll do it first.” He scanned your eyes, trying to read you before quickly leaning forward and placing his lips onto yours.

He pulled away and smiled, “Finally, and all it took was you taking me to a Beyonce concert.” You both turned your focus back towards the stage as he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer. “I basically did all the work, you were the one with no balls.”

You felt his chest rumble as he laughed, “That is true, but now I don’t have to be afraid of telling you that I love you.” You smiled and looked down, hugging him tighter. Halo started playing as you leaned into his embrace so that there was no more space left between the two of you. Swaying to the music, you said, “I love you too.”

[stansrichie]

how do you sleep when you lie to me?

summary: reddie soulmate au where when you write on your skin, it’ll show up on your soulmates skin as well so eddie started wearing long sleeves… until one day, he doesn’t.

read it on ao3 here! :]

pairing: richie and eddie

words: 3.3k

warnings: eddie is big dumb, mild angst, mainly pining/fluff, college au, soulmate au, they’re like 19

a/n: i haven’t written in a while so PLEASE bear with me i tried- i also didn’t prooread this yet so ignore typos its 5am :[

Eddie had just drifted to sleep when he felt a faint tingle on his arm; his soulmate writing something.

Sitting up in bed, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and turned his head to look at the clock on his desk. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he mutters frustratedly to himself, flopping back down on his bed and curling further into his comforter, trying to be as quiet as he can since Stan was sleeping less than 5 feet away from him in their shared college dorm. “Why the hell is he up at 4 a.m. when we have class in the morning?”

Eddie had always been a light sleeper, so it was at times like this when he was awoken at the ass-crack of dawn, watching silently as Richie wrote on his arm, waiting and hoping for a response; a response Eddie was, quite frankly, too afraid to give him.

It had only been a few days after he turned 18, the age where you can finally start seeing and writing messages on your skin to your soulmate, that Eddie figured out Richie was his soulmate.

It was their senior year of high school and they were sitting in English class, zoning out while as the teacher continued rambling about some summer reading project they were supposed to have done, when Eddie felt it. He was wearing a sweatshirt, so he lifted the sleeve a little, watching as his soulmate started doodling what looked like an intricate rose.

He smiled as he watched for a few minutes, thinking the flower was beautiful, and moved to tap Richie on the arm to show him the design but paused as soon as he started. His breath hitched as he looked over his shoulder and saw Richie drawing a rose on his arm. The exact same rose that was currently being drawn on Eddie’s.

Up until that point, Eddie had never written a message back to his soulmate, afraid of saying something stupid, and after figuring out it was Richie, he knew he could never write anything back at all. At least not until he figured out what the hell he could say to him because, in reality, what was he supposed to say to his best friend that has shown no romantic interest in him before? ‘Hey, Richie, it’s me, Eddie. I know you’ve said a thousand times that being around me makes you nauseous because I constantly smell like my mom’s cheap perfume, but maybe that’s karma because we’re kinda soulmates. Life comes at you fast, huh?” Absolutely not.

Not only could Eddie not convince himself to tell Richie, but neither could the rest of the Losers. Not Bill, who sat Eddie down and held an impromptu intervention with Mike after Richie had come to them a hundred times, crying about how his soulmate probably hates him already since they never respond to him. Not Stan, who nearly decked him in the face for running away when he was given the perfect opportunity to fess up when Richie asked him why he had drawn the exact same smiley face he had on his hand. And not Beverly or Ben, who cornered and sat him down just last week after his last lecture of the day, telling him it had been almost a year since he found out and had yet to talk to Richie.

Now here he was, lying in bed at 4 in the morning, curling tightly into his comforter as he tried to ignore the guilt he felt in the pit of his stomach and watching Richie write what was probably the fourth message he had gotten today.

I’m sorry if I’ve been annoying you for the past year. Part of me hopes I’ve been writing on the wrong arm this whole time and you’re just not right-handed, but I know that isn’t really it. Just please say something, anything, so I at least know you’re out there and I’ll stop. I promise.

More than half of his forearm had been covered. He could only read over the message once, feeling tears well up in his eyes before shoving his arm back under his blanket and shutting his eyes as tightly as he could. He hated that he was hurting him, but he was scared. He was so scared. Scared that Richie would hate him by now. Scared that Richie didn’t return the same feelings for him that he’s had since freshman year. Scared that this will ruin their friendship if Richie doesn’t. He’s so scared.

“Eddie, it’s the middle of September. It’s like 600 degrees outside. Why the fuck are you wearing a jacket?” Richie asks, furrowing his eyes brows and staring at the smaller boy in front of him, his head slightly tilted as he waited for an answer.

After locking the door to his and Stan’s dorm, Eddie pushes past Richie, nearly knocking the boy over, and throws his backpack over his shoulder as he leads them down the hall and out of the building. This is what they always did. Richie woke up early, got dressed, walked to Eddie’s room, and waited for him outside so they could walk to class together. That’s what best friends do, right? “Because I’m cold, Richie, why else would I wear a jacket, dumbass?” he retorted, tugging the jacket tighter over his body. Ever since Eddie started wearing long sleeves around him, Richie asked the same thing all the time, and got the same response every time. Only this time, it really did feel like it was about 600 degrees outside, and Eddie could already feel his forehead start to get damp as they walked, yet he had no intentions of removing the jacket.

“Whatever, weird ass. I feel like I’m fucking melting out here, and you’re still dressing like there’s a blizzard barreling down on us. Are you okay?” Richie asked, his previously sarcastic tone of voice turning to one of genuine concern, catching Eddie completely off-guard with how fast he switched up.

“Y-yeah. I’m okay. Just been feeling weird. I’m fine, though,” Eddie tumbled over his words, keeping his eyes on his feet as they walked. “I didn’t get to ask you earlier, but how was the trip?” he asked, peering up to meet the same pair of concerned eyes he had been avoiding the entire walk. Over the weekend, Richie was forced to go to some art museum two hours away with his class for an exhibit, and instead of making it a day trip, they left Saturday morning and didn’t return until Sunday afternoon.

Richie knew good and well that Eddie wasn’t as okay as he was telling him, but they were best friends. He told Eddie everything and Eddie told him everything too. If he wanted him to know, he would tell him. Why would this be any different? “It was alright. Kind of boring, but it was required. I know it was only one weekend, but I missed you,” Richie replied nonchalantly, shoving his hands in his pockets. It wasn’t until a few moments later that he realized what he’d said, and frantically tried to backtrack and save himself. “You guys. I-i missed you guys. You know… it was weird not hanging out with you all. Like... all of you. Not just one,” he chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the nape of his neck, and Eddie noticed a faint red tint had taken to his cheeks that couldn’t have been from the heat.

“Yeah…y-yeah. I got it,” Eddie stuttered back, feeling like the combined heat the jacket and the heat from his own cheeks were about to suffocate him. “I bet it was. Didn’t have anyone to fuck around with and call ‘itty bitty Ewok” the whole time you were there.”

This pulled a loud laugh from Richie, who completely stopped in his tracks to grab his chest dramatically at the nickname he had coined for Eddie. “Come on, Eds, if anything you missed me calling you that,” he replied in-between chuckles, wiping a single tear from his eye.

“Fuck you, Richie, you already know I’m insecure about my height and Ewoks are actually pretty badass. They could kick your ass in a heartbeat just like I ca-” Eddie stops himself, sighing and shaking his head as Richie had only been probed to laugh harder. “Fuck you,” he spat, squinting his eyes at the other boy before speed walking ahead. However, he didn’t get very far before he felt himself being tugged backwards into a hard chest.

“I’m sorry, Eddie. I was just kidding, I promise,” Richie grinned down at him, though Eddie wasn’t paying much attention to what he was saying. What he was paying attention to, though, was the hand on his waist that was pressing him firmly against Richie’s body, only separated by his backpack. “Forgive me?” Richie whispered, leaning right down to Eddie’s ear and making him shudder a bit at the feeling of his breath fanning his skin.

“Whatever,” Eddie breathed out, shoving Richie away and fixing his bag on his shoulder, continuing to walk ahead as he heard Richie continuing to chuckle behind him.

They walked in silence for a few more minutes, getting closer and closer to their classroom building before they finally arrived. It wasn’t until Eddie pulled the door open and held it for Richie that he spoke again.

“Is that something your soulmate wrote?” Richie asked, pointing to the marks peeking out from Eddie’s jacket that had slightly risen up on his arm as they walked inside.

At the question, Eddie’s eyes widened, and he immediately pulled the fabric of his sleeve down, averting his eyes from his best friend. “Yeah… yeah, it’s nothing important. Just a doodle or something,” he mumbled, shrugging his shoulders and silently praying that Richie would accept his answer and change the subject.

“Must be nice. I don’t know what I did to my soulmate or--or if I even fucking have one at this point, but I can never get a response. I’m starting to think that maybe I should just…give up? I mean it’s almost been a year now and all I’ve gotten is radio silence. I can’t keep begging for nothing, you know?” Richie asks, looking over at Eddie with dark, heavy eyes as he finished. His shoulders were slumped in defeat and his head hung a little lower as he walked.

“Yeah. I-I’m sorry, Richie. You don’t deserve that… you really don’t,” Eddie replied, fidgeting nervously with backpack straps and quickly glancing at Richie before focusing back on the ground and walking into the classroom.

He hadn’t been lying. After a while, the messages on Eddie’s arm started coming in slower and slower before stopping altogether.

There were times when he thought Richie had started trying again, feeling the familiar tingle on his arm, only to look down and see a grocery list or a homework reminder.

By now, it had been nearly two months and there hadn’t been a single message from Richie for him to read. Richie had also become a little quieter when they all hung out. Acting a little out of character for his usual self, and the entire group noticed. They also knew Eddie was the one that could fix it, and they’d threatened him at least 3 times this week to tell Richie before they did. To say he felt guilty was an understatement. He didn’t think it would come to Richie completely giving up he just¾he just needed more time, was all. More time to come up with something to say to him.

Eddie was just about to sit down and start on his homework when he felt it again. Writing on his arm.

Study group for comp sci in library @ 6

He stared at the note on his arm for a few minutes before looking at the time on his laptop. It was 3:45 now, so he only had a little bit of time to decide if he would show up or not. This was the first time Richie had written a complete sentence, whether it was for him or not, let alone with something as specific as his afternoon plans. It would be the perfect time to reveal himself to Richie, but he couldn’t help but doubt himself. “Jesus fuck, I’m gonna need a Xanax after this,” he muttered to himself hiding his face in his hands and exhaling loudly.

It was currently 7:30pm and Eddie was standing outside of the library entrance, looking like an absolute idiot. He had gotten to the library over 30 minutes ago, but every time he made the move to walk inside, he walked right back out.

He peered through the glass doors of the library entrance and saw Richie packing up his bags at a table in the back corner of the bottom floor and waving goodbye to a few other students. Panic started to rise in him because it was literally now or never, and he didn’t even use his time standing around outside, let alone the entire year he’s kept this secret, to think of what the hell he’s supposed to say when he walks up to him.

His body starts moving before his mind can get it to stop, and he suddenly finds himself pushing through the front doors and walking right up to Richie, who was seconds away from leaving.

“Hey, Richie,” Eddie called as he neared the table, internally cringing at how awkward and nervous he sounded. Richie looked up from shoving his last book into his backpack, his eyes widening in surprise and his mouth opening to say something before Eddie cut him off. “H-how did your study group go?”

“How did you know I had a study group? I never mentioned it to…” Richie trailed off mid-sentence as he took in Eddie’s appearance. He was shifting nervously from one foot to the other. A faint blush was set on his cheeks, tinting them a pretty pink color over his freckles, and he was completely avoiding Richie’s eyes. Other than that, there was nothing significantly different about Eddie that caught him off guard; that is, until he noticed Eddie’s shirt. For once, he wasn’t wearing anything long-sleeved, and Richie noticed a few familiar scribbles on Eddie’s arm from afar.

Stepping away from the table, Richie started moving closer to the other boy and Eddie felt like he couldn’t breathe. He stood completely still, frozen in place, as Richie stopped right in front of him and took his arm in his hand, holding it up so he could read what was written.

“Study group for comp sci in library at 6,” Richie read out loud quietly before looking up and meeting Eddie’s eyes, causing Eddie to meet his gaze for the first time. They were both silent for no more than 3 minutes, but it felt like an eternity. Eddie was still barely breathing, waiting for Richie to react, and Richie was looking at the message on Eddie’s arm again that was identical to his as if everything was hitting him at once.

Eddie had just looked away from Richie’s face when he spoke up again.

“Why?” he asked, his voice laced with a mixture of hurt and desperation. “W-why would you …hide this from me for so long, Eddie?”

When Eddie looked up, he realized just how upset Richie really was. His eyes had already begun to water, and he knew he was completely overwhelmed with the situation. He felt terrible once again; not that he didn’t deserve to. “Richie, I-”

“Do you realize how hard I tried? Eddie, I didn’t even know if there was someone out there or not. I-I waited so long hoping to get a response, and you--you were there the entire time? You knew the entire time?” Richie cut him off, looking like he had been completely defeated.

“I-I’m sorry. I just- I didn’t know how you would react. You’ve never shown any real interest in me and I didn’t want to ruin anything I-I was just scared of… of losing you,” he replied, feeling his own tears start to slip down his cheeks. “I know I’m the fucking worst and I had so much time to say something but I couldn’t-”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Eddie? Like are you bullshitting me right now? This entire time, you haven’t stopped to think even once that I might have feelings for you? That I might have been in love with you since we were prepubescent 13 year-olds in high school? Not once?” Richie continued, shooting questions at Eddie every chance he could. “Not when I asked you to prom senior year, even if I did try to play it off as a friend thing? Not when I kissed you that one time when we went to the drive-in? Or not even now when I wake up early every morning to walk you to class, even when I don’t have the same classes? Not once?”

Eddie was speechless. Absolutely speechless for at least 2 minutes before his mind finally started working again after that confession. “I really am sorry, Rich, I know I should’ve said something a long ass time ago I was being stupid… I had no idea you felt that way, but I-I feel the same,” he replied nervously, peering up at Richie through his eyelashes, his bottom lip between his teeth. “And to be fair, you told me the kiss was accidental and that you only did it because you were trying to wipe butter off of my lip and slipped-”

But he’s cut off when he feels a pair of lips against his, and he barely has time to react before Richie’s pulling him closer against his chest and deepening the kiss. Eddie feels like his entire body is fire, and even though they’re kissing in the middle of the library, it feels like they’re the only people in the room, as cheesy as that sounds. It was a fairly chaste kiss, but it was desperate and needy, something they’ve both wanted for years, and they were both breathless when they pulled apart.

Eddie’s lips were red and a bit plumper, and when Richie’s eyes flickered down to them and noticed, he couldn’t help but pull Eddie in for another quick kiss.

“That one wasn’t an accident,” Richie finally spoke after a few moments of them trying to catch their breath, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re such an idiot,” Eddie chuckled breathlessly. He felt like a thousand weights had been lifted off his shoulders. His insides felt like jelly, like he couldn’t believe that had just happened, but it felt good. He felt good.

“Yeah? Says the one that kept being my soulmate away from me for an entire fucking year,” Richie countered, squeezing Eddie’s hip and making his breath hitch.

“Not an entire year just…close,” Eddie murmured under his breath, hiding his face in Richie’s neck.

“Too long,” Richie replied, his voice slightly muffled as he pressed his lips against the side of Eddie’s face.

“M’sorry,” Eddie responded, which he’d probably said a thousand times tonight. But he meant it. He meant it every single time.

“I know. I’m just glad you’re here now,” Richie sighed in content. Of course, they’d talk more about the situation later, but for now he was just happy he had found out who his soulmate was. Even better, it was Eddie.

Eddie knew it too. Knew he’d have a lot more explaining to do, and a lot more apologizing to do, but for now he wanted to stay just like this for a little while longer because he wasn’t afraid anymore. He didn’t have to be; he never had to be, and he wished he could’ve convinced himself of that earlier because being in Richie’s arms felt like the safest place he’d ever been in his life.