#had to push back my flight home bc like i can’t travel like this

[sakanoshitaa]

have been experiencing Trials and Tribulations

[ks-dreams-fantasies]

Can you write one where the reader surprise vinnie on his bday like the readee said that she cant go to his bday bc of something

*Pics not mine*

Birthday boy – Vinnie Hacker

Sooooo… I decided to turn this request into a smut 👁👅👁  If you are not comfortable, don’t worry you can read the first half of the story before it gets to heated. I got carried away, sorry 😬 Hope you enjoy it still

Author’s note: In this story, both the reader and Vinnie are of legal drinking age, and the pandemic is long over

Warning: Smut 🔥

Word Count: 1.9k (not proofread)

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‘’ I know you’re disappointed Vinnie, I am too, but we’re not done filming yet” you said to your boyfriend over the phone. You had been away to Canada for the past month, shooting for a movie with other young actors. You loved your job, but being away from the people you loved the most, was difficult.

“Can’t you take a couple of days off?” He asked almost whining

“It doesn’t work like that Vin” you sighed, you knew he was sad “I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you, I promise” you continued, smiling softly, even though he couldn’t see you.

“I just miss you, and the fact that you won’t be here for my birthday sucks” he huffed “I know it’s not your fault”

“I miss you too” you said before getting interrupted by a knock on the door. “I have to go baby, we’re getting ready to film, I’ll call you later, I love you”

“Ok, I love you” he responded before you hung up, making your way to set. Tomorrow was your last day of filming before a two-weeks break. You hadn’t told Vinnie, wanting to surprise him for his birthday, since it was a last-minute decision from the movie director. You were stocked to go back to L.A to see your friends for a few days. You had decided that for Vinnie’s birthday, you would plan a nice trip away from everything, just the two of you. You had talked with Thomas and Mia, knowing you could trust them with your secret. They had kept you up to date on everything, including the party schedule.

You would see him in only two days, and you couldn’t wait to be near him. You missed everything about your boyfriend, his hugs, his kisses, his voice, his laugh, his touch, oh how you missed his touch. A month away from each other wasn’t an easy task since the both of you were always together. He hadn’t had the chance to come visit you on set since he had a bunch of contracts and projects to work on, himself.

The day finally came for you to go back home to Vinnie, and you couldn’t be more excited. He didn’t suspect anything since you had called him that morning, wishing him a Happy Birthday.

“Thomas said you sent me a package, but I’m not allowed to open it till later tonight” he had said, loving that even though you couldn’t be with him on his special day, you had still thought about sending him something.

“I believe you can wait a few more hours” you had smiled, looking at him through your phone screen. The FaceTime call lasted for another fifteen minutes before you had to go

“Ok baby, I’ll call you back later tonight so we can open your gift together, have a good day, I love you”you had said looking at the time, knowing you had to leave soon to make it to your flight in time

“I love you too (Y/N)” he smiled fondly at you “See you tonight” he had said

“See you tonight” You had chuckled, before hanging up. He was on for a big surprise and you couldn’t wait to see his reaction.

You texted Mia when you landed. The plan was to sneak you into the house without him noticing, so you could get ready. The boys had finished working out, your boyfriend going to take a shower before the party started. It was the perfect time to go in, following Mia to hers and Thomas’s bedroom.

“I’m so glad you’re here” she said excitedly “He’s going to be so happy to see you (Y/N)” she continued, jumping up and down. “I’ll let you get ready, people are starting to arrive” she said before exiting the door.

You decided to scroll through your phone for a bit before getting ready for the party. Vinnie had just posted a new TikTok of him in the shower, like always, but that was enough to make you melt at the sight of him.

To: Mon Amour❤️👅

Still on set, just saw your TikTok. 👀

How can one human be so handsome 😩 it’s not fair

He had responded soon after, making you smile, while making your way to take a shower as well. When you got out, you could already hear the music blasting downstairs, indicating the party had started. You finished getting ready and texted Thomas to distract your boyfriend while you went to join the girls in the living room. You made sure to stand close to him and his friends, but still far enough to observe him without him noticing you right away.

“Vin, that girl’s been looking at you for the past ten minutes man” Jordan had said, smirking as he saw you on the other side of the room

“Yeah and?” he answered, shrugging his shoulders not turning to look at the girl in question

“She kind of look like (Y/N) if you ask me” his friend had retorted, making the birthday boy stare at the group of girls, spotting you immediately, almost running towards you, smiling widely at the sight of you.

“Is that really you?” he asked, his eyes wide and mouth still agape, you chuckled, pulling him into a hug

“Happy Birthday baby” you murmured in his ear, leaving a kiss below it, the action making him shiver.

“I can’t believe you’re here” he responded, hugging you tightly, before detaching himself a little bit to stare into your eyes. He had this ability to make you melt just by looking at you. He moved his face closer to yours, kissing you passionately. His lips were soft and demanding, he wanted more, and you knew he had missed you as much as you’d missed him.

“Get a room you guys” Michael said, passing the both of you, making you laugh against each other before detaching yourselves. He grabbed your hand, leading you to the beer pong table, where Connor and Calvin were playing and drinking.

It had been an hour since you reunited with Vinnie, and you were still near the beer pong table, talking and laughing with the others. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, scared that if he did, you would disappear. His arms were around your shoulders, staring at the way your mouth was moving while speaking to Michael and Alex.

“Hey yo Vinnie, you’re still with us?” Alex had said, making your boyfriend diverted his gaze towards him, sipping on his red solo cup

“Yeah” he chuckled lightly “Sorry” the boys laughed at him, knowing damn well he was only paying attention to you.

“You’re up next birthday boy” you said, nodding towards the table, where two team had just done playing. You all moved towards the beer pong table, Vinnie playing with Michael and Alex playing with Kouvr. You stayed next to them, watching the scene in front of you. Vinnie was having so much fun, laughing and drinking with his friends, he would often take a glance at you to make sure, you were ok. Alex and Kouvr were losing, Michael laughing at them and Vinnie getting almost every shot he took.

You got lost in the moment, just admiring him, and the way he looked extra good tonight. Even under his white t-shirt, you could see every muscle of him flex. His large hands grasping the ball before shooting it into the cup, making him celebrate the victory with Michael. He caught you staring at him and came right back to stand in front of you.

“Everything’s ok baby?” he asked you, smirking, knowing what it did to you. After a few seconds of silence, he took your hand in his, as you followed him upstairs. He led you towards his bedroom, but you were surprised when he went in and continued walking towards the connected bathroom, closing the door behind you. You stood there, leaning against the counter, Vinnie taking a few steps closer to you, standing centimeters away from your face. His lips found yours quickly, taking control of your mouth easily, your tongues dancing and battling together, Vinnie deepening the kiss. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until he pulled away, and redirected his kisses on your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin, making you let out a small moan.

“Fuck, I missed you (Y/N)” he murmured against you, pressing his lower half to your aching core. Your hands travelled to his hair, tugging lightly, something you knew he loved for you to do.

“I want you Vin” you whispered in his ears, making him grunt, before he turned you around quickly, making you both look at your reflection in the mirror. You could feel him get impatient, as he pressed his hard member against your covered ass. One of his hands rested on your hip as the other slid down your back, forcing you down into a bending position. You reached down to the end of your dress, lifting it up, for Vinnie to get a better view. He ran a hand through your hair, fisting them, grasping and pulling them gently. A loud moan left your lips at the action, making you back up into him, as he started to grind into you, over and over again.

“V-Vinnie” you mumbled, as he snaked his hand slowly into your damp underwear, making you let out a sight of satisfaction. His skillful fingers found their way to your dripping fold, spreading your arousal on the rest of your needy core. Vinnie kept a steady pace, pumping in and out of you, making you scream in ecstasy. You had been craving his touch for a month now and you couldn’t contain yourself anymore.

“Fuck me already” you said, wanting to feel more of him than his fingers. He bit his lips at the sight of you, begging for more, before yanking your panties down your legs in a quick motion. He unbuttoned his pants quickly, making them drop to the floor, his erection springing free on his covered stomach. He pumped himself a few times, before lining himself at your entrance, your eyes meeting his reflection, your pussy throbbing at what was about to happen. He grabbed your hips, pushing all the way in, your broken moans filling is ears, feeling your tightness around him.

“You’re so tight” he whimpered as you moaned, reaching back to grab onto him. He began to piston his hips harder against yours, making you yelp out in pleasure and surprise, feeling your orgasm approaching. His hand laid a hard smack on your ass, as you bit your bottom lips, trying to contain your moans. You could feel Vinnie’s trusts getting sloppier, indicating he was close as well.

“I’m so close” he almost didn’t hear you. His hand trailed down the front of your body, snaking his fingers down your swollen clit, rubbing it perfectly to bring you over the edge. Your legs started shaking, Vinnie pumping in and out of you, as he rode your orgasm. You clenched around him and the action was enough to make him cum, himself, spilling his loads into you, groaning loudly.

Once you were done, he helped you clean the mess the both of you had made, laughing lightly as you both got dressed.

“Best surprise ever” he said, smiling as he kissed your temple.

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Thanks for reading

Hope you liked it, let me know what you think

-K

[locktobre]

bcbd thoughts

right away I see that this is only an hour long, so... it’s not a movie, then. it’s a one hour special, again. I feel like I’m already gonna miss the extra 20 minutes just like dolphin magic but we’ll see I guess. maybe it’ll be a mercy that it’s shorter.

the opening credits/dream sequence was nice. the animation on the city is decent, and the monochrome thing was kind of cool.

her being on stage reminded me a little of Eden, and then immediately I missed Eden so much. they would never let a version of Babs be a bitch now and that’s such a shame.

so now we’re joking about George tracking Barbie’s cell phone? bc that’s fine and not at all an invasion of privacy or anything. also, you can check flight statuses on the internet so that’s really not necessary. also, why the fuck didn’t Barbie call them once she got off the plane? or at least text? I always text or call my mom when I land, and frankly I’m not even as close to my mom as Barbie claims to be to her parents. and I did that when I was 17 traveling alone, too, so it’s not just something I do as an adult. it’s part of the responsibility of traveling to let ppl know that you got somewhere safe so they don’t worry about you. what the fuck Babs.

was that honking supposed to be like censoring the cabbie swearing bc I would love that. let the cabbie say fuck.

I still maintain that this “summer program” thing is bullshit and Babs should have been going off to college. I know they won’t let her grow up but it makes more sense than this does. also, you’re telling me there’s no summer programs for acting/whatever in LA? seriously? she HAD to go across the country for this? and her parents let her? they don’t even trust her! they said that 2 seconds ago! or is tracking her cell phone the reason she’s allowed to travel across the country (to Willows and Florida and Hawaii) by herself in the first place? I hate this I hate it so much already

The Handler Arts Academy... oh I’m feeling emotions

“luck’s got nothing to do with it. you worked your tail off for this” SHOW ME FOR WHEN, PLEASE. this could have been an actual arc of the show, a goal Barbie was working towards that could thread thru multiple episodes... but no. this came out of nowhere. I’m STILL saying that Amelia bought Barbie’s place here bc FUCK YOU SHOW

“I hope I’m good enough” you’re a mediocre rich white woman, you can do literally anything you want.

why is her guitar shoved in a cardboard box and not, idk, in a guitar case? that’s stupid. also, that’s an open cardboard box, so how did that travel on the plane? a closed cardboard box, fine. should be a suitcase, but fine. but this just makes no sense and I am not going to let it slide bc I hate this continuity and everything about it.

however, I will give Brooklyn a pass for the open cardboard box bc she literally lives in NYC and didn’t have to take a fucking plane to get here. she can carry it like that if she wants.

“as long as you don’t break [my leg], we’re good” I’ve already seen Brooklyn in a cast, so... does Malibu literally break her leg later on? even on accident... jesus christ.

is this Russian(?) custodian lady gonna be the antagonist/villain? bc I’m already not vibing with that. not at fucking all.

how the FUCK could they show up a day early? why would they not show up on the day they’re supposed to? that doesn’t make any sense! and if they’re NOT supposed to be there yet, then there would be no staff there to watch them, so they should have to come back tomorrow! they shouldn’t be allowed to be by themselves in a school like this! I’m assuming this is to facilitate a day of bonding without stupid things like classes in the way, but they could have written an orientation day or something in that would have made more sense, and as I said, I am not inclined to give them a pass on anything these days. fuck you all.

so, room assignments are alphabetical... I guess that kind of explains them being in the same room, altho it does feel coincidental that they wouldn’t be, like, in neighboring rooms. also they didn’t animate little signs on the other doors, even with nonsense text if they didn’t want to put other names up, so their door really sticks out for no reason. also, shouldn’t it say “Barbie Roberts & Barbie Roberts” or some other way of having both names on the door? also, if the school knows they have the same name, couldn’t they put middle initials or something? we know Malibu is Barbie M. Roberts, and I will generously assume that Brooklyn’s middle name is something else, so that would have been fine. this really feels like the administrators don’t give a fuck, and in a supposedly prestigious school, I don’t buy that.

so, Brooklyn has been training every summer in different programs, very intensely, to get in here... and Malibu trained on the internet. what have I been saying about Malibu’s white mediocrity? hmm?

even after that (lackluster) montage, it feels way too soon for “Before Us.” I don’t believe they’re best friends who warrant a song about their friendship. I don’t believe that at all.

I like the bald fashionista being on the billboard, that’s a nice touch.

Malibu bringing up her vlog like that gives me hives. she has already stated multiple times that she does that to help ppl, not for clout, and yet. here she is. being a fake ass bitch once again.

Brooklyn and Emmie’s story is already way more interesting than this and I’m pissed that’s just backstory.

LOVE that green-haired dude. idk where you’re going with that drum but godspeed my dude.

I’m assuming that’s Emmie incognito in the back, but... what’s she doing here if she’s already famous? pulling an Erika Juno?

Dean Morrison seems cool

(is it too early to ship Brooklyn x Emmie?)

if pets are allowed in this school, I’m SHOCKED Malibu didn’t bring Taffy. truly fucking shocked.

Rafa reminds me so much of Jacques Rousseau

“the only labels we believe in are designer” so Rafa’s gay, right? Barbie’s first gay character? I can only assume

the ballet thing still doesn’t make sense to me, if their goal is to be on Broadway. ballet is an entire art and discipline in itself.

fencing makes more sense, bc stage fighting is a thing.

‘work it’ is even funnier than I imagined. Malibu you’re such a fuck up. and I can’t even cut you some slack bc earlier you said your training was “internet.” you didn’t work for this and you don’t belong here. die.

if this was PCS, Malibu would have been kicked out already. YOU WERE NOT PREPARED FOR THIS. WHAT HAVE I BEEN SAYING FOR MONTHS.

so, the ‘work it’ montage clearly showed the passage of time, it’s been at least a week, and... Malibu hasn’t talked to Ken at all during that time? this is the first time she’s telling him about Brooklyn?

ok, confirmed to be a week. and she hasn’t talked to Ken. of course. they are so close of course she hasn’t talked to him in a week, especially when she’s been struggling so much and would need to vent to a friend about it. of course.

so, Emmie is pulling an Erika Juno. at least she’s in disguise.

jesus christ, they’re really having Emmie be exploited by her own father??? JESUS.

ok Brooklyn x Emmie is sailing.

Brooklyn’s mom is an airline pilot, that sounds cool.

so the dresses are powered by the magic of friendship? cool. that’s stupid.

of COURSE Emmie’s dad is the board member. jesus christ I hate this dude.

okay, so she DIDN’T break her leg, it’s only a sprain. thank god. poor green-haired drum dude.

saying “epic fail” in 2021 unironically is not cool, mattel. unless I’m even more out of touch with the youth than I thought, but I’m pretty sure about that.

wait, so Brooklyn was dancing... and now she’s on crutches again? what is this montage? they fucked up here.

of all things to kick Malibu out for, they’re saying she pushed Brooklyn? why not all the fuck ups in her first week?

also, Rafa was taping that class so how do they not bring that up immediately? that’s the whole reason they were dancing over there in the first place! (so he might not have caught anything, but still, I have to assume that’s going to fix this bc that’s what these movies do.)

I really like Malibu’s leather jacket look, but she does look a little bit old I think. Brooklyn’s leggings look is nice, too.

okay, so Brooklyn suddenly believes the unnamed witness over the girl she sang ‘before us’ with? okay. I told you this friendship was a crock of shit. they don’t trust each other at all! Brooklyn should have been angry when she first fell, and it builds to thinking that she was sabotaged, but she brushed it off... and now she’s pissed. that makes no sense.

this friendship breakup song also means nothing to me bc their friendship fell apart for such a stupid reason. fate didn’t tear you apart, you tore yourselves apart by not trusting each other. stupid little children.

if Brooklyn’s ankle isn’t completely healed aka still painful, she should not be dancing on it, she could injure herself more or at least prolong the healing process.

ok, so NOW, after Malibu has already been expelled and sent back home, they remembered the video. these kids are so fucking stupid. and of COURSE the unnamed witness is Mr Miller! Emmie, you ALREADY KNOW that your dad is shady as shit and wants you to get the Spotlight Solo! HOW DID YOU NOT PUT THIS TOGETHER IN 5 SECONDS? I DID

so, Mr Miller thought Malibu was Emmie’s biggest competition for the solo? Malibu, the spectacular fuck up? not Brooklyn? or any of the background extras? I refuse to fucking believe that. I REFUSE.

how did George and Margaret just let Malibu get expelled without flying out there to fight the charge? seriously?

how is is Brooklyn singing ‘before us’ in-universe such that Malibu recognizes it? you’re breaking the conventions of musicals! I don’t get this!

I like Brooklyn’s mom being a pilot less after it’s been used to facilitate this bullshit part of the plot.

again, just “Barbie Roberts” makes no sense. where’s a middle initial to differentiate them! SOMETHING! I know they’re doing the finale together, but still, it’s STUPID.

shipping Rafa x green-haired drummer dude bc I can

where’s the Emmie doll for this movie?????? I’m so disappointed. also the other outfits, the leather jacket and leggings ones, I swear those weren’t dolls either. what the fuck

I see more fashionistas on billboards at the end! I really like that

so the custodian wasn’t a villain... then why that introduction for her? that went nowhere

is “Big City Big Dreams” supposed to be Emmie’s song? that Malibu lips-synced to on her vlog (apparently)? I can’t tell by the voice and they don’t list the voices for the songs in the credits

overall, once again it largely made no sense. idk if it would have benefitted from 20 extra minutes of screentime bc nothing really happened.

also, what the fuck happened to Mr Miller? he just keeps on exploiting his daughter? and for that matter, what happened to Emmie’s mom? bc she lived with her, and then all of the sudden her dad was in her life again and exploiting her, so... what did mom die? did he kill her? what am I supposed to think? and Emmie’s STILL stuck in that situation? girl. what the fuck

also of course they were too cowardly to confirm anything about Rafa. of course.

[willowistic22]

New jomike hc au!post college

I came up with this au in my head for awhile now some hc’s regarding this new au on a whim bcs i wanted to tell my friends abt it on a discord server. I thought it’s time it sees the light of day bcs i simply cannot keep it in me anymore. Also this is kind of inspired by the song Dorothea - Taylor Swift. 

Everyone is graduating so que the sappy goodbyes as they’re all gonna be scattered not just all around the us but also all around the world

The couples made a truce whether to do long distance or they share the same dreams so they do it together

But mike and jojo didn’t make things work in the end so they broke up before graduation but still went to prom together

y’know those kinds of high school hearthache

Bcs Mike stayed in new york but jojo flew away (like england or sumn idk) 

To some fancy elite school bcs he’s smart yknow

He wanted to from the start but he’s always been a bit torned bcs he knew from the start of the relationship mike was the one (call it stupid young love or whatever you want, i call it destiny:))

And mike never wanted to hold him down so he was the one that proposed the idea to him

For the most part it worked out

Jojo flew away to chase his dreams

Mike stayed and did the same thing

Both of them only kinda sorta moved on. Met new people but never fully stopped thinking abt the other. Wishing the other was by their side right now

And so they’ve gotten their degrees and gotten their dream jobs

Mike is a coder working in a video game company while jojo is in social media marketing after finishing business school (or whatever major required for that job field idk)

And they kinda hv their life together. Jojo living on his own in a studio apartment with a cat called Dorothea (see what i did there:)) money doesn’t concern him all that much bcs the job pays nicely and he’s good at handling his finances 

Mike lives alongside with his brother ike in a nice apartment too. He manages to get a position that allows him to work flexibly at home yknow. He also has a new kitten he saved from the streets named Honey (bcs his fur is orange like honey) and since his older cat had died of old age

But mike lives with ike who also lives with hotshot. So he’s like always the third wheel. Even worse when ike and hotshot are hving the occasional double date with race and spot. Mike feels even more worse at those time

Decides to hide away in his room or go out with the excuse being work

And its even worse remembering he used to go on double dates with ike and hotshot when him and jojo were still a thing

So ike is like ‘yknow what? I hv enough of this shit’ and hv one good brother to brother talk

‘Dude. It’s been years already. How are you not over him?’

‘Bcs he’s jojo...’

‘Ok? So why don’t you call him?’

It’s not like mike has never thought of calling him. Very much possible. They still follow each other’s social media’s so if his old number had changed he cld always just ask from a simple dm since mike knows jojo is still active in his social media accs

But mike is like ‘i can’t. He cld be taken for all i know. Even if he weren’t, he seems to be doing fine on his own’

‘You can’t really get to know a person through instagram posts. Remember how you tried that the first time you wanted to ask him out? You thought he didn’t like guys and yet still went on a date with you anyways’

That was a real slap in the face type of sentence yknow so mike is working up a lot of courage and planned a lot on what he’s gonna do

He first wanted to message jojo. Seeing if it’s still okay to call and all. But he cldn’t figure out what to say so he procrastinated on that part

Ike got sick of it so he took the phone from mike and messaged ‘can we call? I miss you’

Mike was hovering in between i will murder you or thank you @ ike

Either way jojo texts back with his new number. It’s gonna add up on his usual phone bill but he thinks it’s worth it.

Ok so they talked for like soooo long

7?8?hours?

Basically the whole night for mike

It felt like high school all over again

They were just catching up with each other and talking abt absolute bullshit at the same time

Till they got to the point where they mentioned how they’re both single and the air kinda shifts

Deep down mike and jojo knows what this means

As far as jojo is concerned, mike was the one that messaged him that he misses him

It’s easy now for mike to word out come home without indirectly saying it out loud in case that’s not what jojo wants

Bcs after that catching up, he knows that as much as it’s a dream for jojo to work at a big well known fashion brand (he’s pretty fashionable lmao) and get free products that are usually hella expensive from the brand, he hates everyone he works with. Real snobs and ruthless when it comes to getting a higher position

The other things abt his new life is pretty interesting and he loves it. But he admits there’s always been something missing and mike so badly wants to be that something missing in jojo’s new life

So it comes out straight forward. Not like how mike had planned, but it works in the end. ‘Come home’

And jojo does exactly that. He agrees to come home for the weekend. He books a ticket to new york then back with only a carry on duffle bag filled with a few assortments of clothing and booked it out after telling dorothea he won’t be long.

He rushes to the airport bcs he kinda booked the flight that leaves for new york as soon as possible. Perhaps deep down jojo really does know what he’s been missing in his life?

He lands in new york on a friday night new york time

Mike tells him not to worry abt what he’s wearing bcs he just wants to meet jojo at a central park bench that has long became an important spot for them

Jojo insisted on meeting as soon as he lands which is tonight. So the whole time he’s in the cab, he’s like soooo shaky and nervous it kinda drove the cab driver anxious as well. Bcs like jojo’s not talking and didn’t like say anything abt why he’s going to central park this late at night and not to some fancy hotel as most travelers wld do when they first arrive at new york

The moment the cab stops, jojo basically threw him a wad of cash. Probably too much than the actual price of the ride but he just called out from the back of his shoulder saying it’s a huge tip. Secretly, he’s thanking the cab driver for not asking him why he’s in new york and why central park at this time. It’d most likely make him even more nervous

He’s running on the path. He doesn’t reach full speed bcs his duffle bag is weighing him down. He doesn’t even know why he’s going so fast. It’s not like mike has anything else planned

Picture jojo frantically looking around the area like he’s a lost little boy in the dark. Barely seeing anyone else in ten vicinity, so any figure out at this ungodly time rn cld only mean is mike.

But he’s growing worried bcs it doesn’t seem like he’s around

Until ofc ‘jojo!’

Jojo whips his head around and sees Mike walking up to the bench from a different direction

They didn’t really do anythign at the start. They just stared at each other while standing in the dark approximately 10 feet apart. Jojo waits for a sign from mike to do anything else, though mike was doing the same thing for jojo

Until mike decides to break the 1 minute long silence ‘jojo-‘

But he didn’t continue bcs jojo was already running up to him the moment his mouth moves and tackles him into the tightest hug ever

His duffle bag was dropped halfway from the run so there was no holding back. The hug very much pushed mike’s soul out of his figure as much as it did to his body

Thankfully, mike hugged back just as tight. If not, it was a sign for jojo that it wasn’t okay to go in for a hug just yet and he wld pull back really quick

In time, jojo did end up pulling back to look at mike’s face up close and whisper ‘i still love you’

Which is really out of nature for jojo bcs he’s never really known to be the risk taker between the two

And mike was so happy at that moment that he just pulls jojo in for a kiss.

And that folks, is how they got back together:)

So everyone has agreed that airplane food sucks ass (for the most part at least. 

Jojo was forced to eat it on his plane back to new york but he didn’t like finish it

Probably bcs he was so nervous and it also didn’t look so appetizing

So after they’ve said their heartfelt ‘i still love you’s and etc mike took him back to his apartment after finding out he doesn’t hv a place to stay. He’d stay at his parents place but the de la guerra’s hv long moved out of new york. You can say the similarities between jojo and his parents are that they like to travel. They sold their house and ended up backpacking across the world to look for a place to retire inevitably. Last time he checked up on his mom, the old couple is driving to Netherlands.

So mike took him home and cooked him dinner. They hv the apartment all to themselves since hotshot and ike are out

Unknowingly, jojo had sat on honey’s favorite spot on the couch and earned a disapproving meow from the little cat

Not until mike had properly introduced them that honey started to be nicer to jojo. And so they eat dinne ron the couch and talked.

Mike admitted calling him has been on his mind for quite some time but was too scared to act up on it. And jojo said what he did just now was the most compulsive and adrenaline rush thing he’s ever done. The roles had reversed for the moment

But now they’re back where they’ve always belong. In each other’s grasp while looking out the balcony in the tiny living room to watch the sunrise and then getting surprised seeing ike and hotshot pile in the apartment

And so now they’re back. They make the most of the weekend to talk abt what they really want

Jojo wants to quit his old job. The firm is full of snobby and arrogant ppl

And it has him working almost 24/7. He doesn’t want that

Mike on the other hand wants to hv a period of his life where he’s traveling full time

So they took inspiration from ike and hotshot’s current plan : get a mini bus to convert it into a home

In conclusion jojo quits his job, moves back to new york along with his cat dorothea so he can live with mike to make that converted bus plan. After securing a proper job that let’s him work at home flexibly like mike’s, they get on with their plan and sets off to travel in their house on wheels with their two cats. They end up getting married ofc and lived happily ever after:)

Thank you and goodnight folks hsnsgsbssjshmshssmhs

[scandeniall]

sobbing in cabo

pairing: oikawa x reader

summary/warnings: how could you be in the most beautiful place you’d ever been yet feel so terrible?/ just language. tiniest mention of alcohol

wc: 1.3k

It’s a paradise. Waves kissed the shore languidly. It was a song sweeter than any lullaby you’d ever heard. Distant waves shimmered, a mixture of sliver, blue and green. The seagulls chattered overhead and you wondered what they could possibly be saying. 

The setting sun was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. Similar to a watercolor painting the Cotton candied clouds melted seamlessly into the tangerine sky. The hotels balcony gave you a front row seat to all this and more. You should be in paradise. So why did you feel so bitter? Distant laughing from travel goers did nothing but cause your eyes to roll in disgust. They were so happy. Kids pranced around dragging their parents to some new sea find. Friends posed in front of the water snapping memories that’d last a lifetime. You’d practically gagged at the sight of couples going for their sunset walks on the beach. A glimmer in your peripheral took your eyes from their people watching. A soft greeting attempted to lighten your mood. Instead, you took the offered glass drowning the drink in one gulp. Disgust graced your face at the burn now present in the back of your throat. “That was disgusting.” “It was expensive.” His voice grew stronger as did his presence. You felt the sudden warmth gifted from the way he stood next to you. Arms crossed over the railing as he eyed the sand below. The two of you took in the sounds around you before he spoke up. “I’m sorry you know.”

“Of course you are.” The words are bitter on your tongue. You hear the sigh from beside you, as you roll your eyes. “You know Tooru. This spot is a dream come true. It should be a paradise, so I wonder why it feels anything but.” Your voice trails off as you catch sight of a couple in the distance. It appears to be mid proposal. The lovers running into each other's arms into a sweet embrace and your jaw locks in pure jealousy. God how you wanted that.

Oikawa eyes seem to spot the couple as well. His gaze shifts several times between them and you. He bites back his own annoyance, knowing it’d make things worse. He has to carefully choose his next words. “I’m trying here (Y/N). I really am but you're not even giving me the benefit of the doubt.”

He's cut off by your humorless laugh. “If you call this trying, then I’d hate to see not.” You finally tear your eyes from the couple to face him. You almost feel bad for the attitude until your met with his look of exasperation. Suddenly you're reminded of the purpose of your vacation in the first place. “You’re the reason we’re here anyway. We’re supposed to be spending time together, working on us. Yet you’re doing the same shit-”

“(Y/n)-”

“No.” You immediately cut him off, putting your arm up to prevent him from reaching out towards you. “You're never here Oikawa. Even on our vacation. There’s always someone for you to go meet up with who you haven’t seen in so long. Or another stupid pickup game. I’m tired of coming last in your life.” 

When he says nothing, in an attempt to gather his thoughts you figure, you huff in annoyance. He had nothing to say. Your attempt at exiting the balcony is ruined when callused fingers grip onto your wrist. “I don’t know what you even want from me. You agreed to this when you agreed to us.” 

His words come out harsher than he’d intended. There was a flash of regret in his eyes that occurred once you snatched your arm away. He watched your movements carefully. He noticed how you went to speak at least three times, before closing your mouth. Each time was accompanied by a shake of your head. 

He watched how your brows would furrow then soften as you mentally calm yourself down. You were likely doing the countdown exercise he taught you harly on. It was something he’d learned right after highschool as a means to relax and focus. The faintest of memories of how he’d pepper hisses across your forehead to make you laugh when he annoyed you crossed his mind. It was something that seemed so far in the past and he shook the thought away. “Where are you going?”

“Away from you.” You tell him calmly as the glass door slides open. Youre both met with the coolness of the blasting AC and he notices the shiver that runs down your spine at the temperature difference. There's no surprise as he follows after you, eyes narrowing at how you seem to be gathering some of your belongings scattered around the hotel room. It quickly dawns on him that you appear to be packing. “What are you gonna run away instead of us talking about this?” Oikawa feels himself slightly panicking at the thought, yet forces himself to stay just as headstrong as before. “We still have more days here.”

“You do. I can’t deal with this right now. I’ve been looking at flights back home. You insisted we come here to fix us, but this is useless.” Oikawa notes the difference in your tone. You’d drop the combativeness and attitude. This time its replaced with disappointment. “I don’t even know why I thought shit would be different just because we’re across the world. Its so beautiful here and I can’t even enjoy it with you.”

Oikawa knows better than to approach you. He just knew that it’d make things worse. Right? He settles on the edge of the bed as you continue fluttering around the room. “Just stay an extra day with me. We can talk about this tomorrow. Just me and you yeah?” He lets out the quietest sigh of relief at your nod. At some point he’d grabbed your hand and you hadn’t pulled away. 

“I’m gonna go take a shower ok?” Oikawa only offers your hand a slight squeeze in response. The smile you offer him is empty and you’re not even sure you miss the warmth once he lets go of your hand.

The sun is nearly completely down once you get out of the shower. Your’e surprised to even see your boyfriend still in the room. You’d been in Cabo for about a week now and he’d gone out without you nearly every day. You wordlessly climb into the bed next to him eyes hyperfocused on the TV. The space between you two feels momentous. The two of you are on opposite sides of the king sized bed.

Your heads are in two different but similar places. You two still loved each other, but is that enough. You’re young adults, still growing and changing. Continuing to chase your dreams and perhaps you were growing out of each other. He was never around anymore and unknowingly pushed you into the bottom of his priority list. 

You’d wanted nothing more than to support him, but you needed more. You needed someone to tell you that they were proud of you. Someone who would put you first even if for one day. He couldn’t seem to do that. Not right now at least. 

That night as the two of you laid in darkness. Every once in a while if you listened carefully enough you’d hear the distant music from some likely party. You just knew the way the moon reflected off the sea was breathtaking. As you thought about the past 3 years with Oikawa and how you would've loved for this vacation to mend your relationship, you teared up. How could you be in the most beautiful place you’d ever been in and wanted nothing more than to cry. Never did you think you’d be biting back your tears in Cabo.  

a/n: uh yeah im very nervous about writing oiks and not doing him justice bc hes such a unique character but here we are. the 1st of my few non happy pieces. Inspired by Blackbear’s newest project (title is literally the song; sobbing in mexico. this is only loosely based/ more so just the vibe over the lyrics so yeah)

[sarcastically-defensive17]

can i request an imagine where calum & the reader are dating and she gets in a car accident & totals her car? and calum and the boys are in another car and see traffic is slowed bc of the accident and cal recognizes her car and asks them to pull over as she’s freaking out because the ambulance is trying to help her calm down but she’s freaking out and can’t call cal because she can’t find her phone that’s in the car but she ends up fine w a few bruises and scratches & it’s all fluff at the end?

Gonna be late - C. Hood

TRIGGER WARNING: Description of car accident and physical injuries, and anxiety.

Sorry this took so long, lovie! Been super busy lately! Hope you like it!

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17

Car accidents are always shown as something so quick in movies.

A split second collision, the car jolts and is thrown around. The person inside is struck with whiplash and tossed about in a quick movement and often the aftermath is quite horrible.

Y/N discovered that movies are total bull Shit.

She was on her way to meet her friends, and her boyfriend, traveling down the Main Street of the town with music playing in the background as she thrummed her fingers along the steering wheel.

Calum always felt shy when she played his music, but she adored the sound of his voice. Every time his dulcet tone travels through the speakers a smile bursts onto her face.

She was listening to Babylon when it happened.

Anything that she had seen in the media felt like the biggest lie in that moment.

What was really a few minute action felt like a lifetime.

Her mind was focused on the road ahead of her, but the subconscious part of her mind was focused on the brown eyed man she gave her heart to.

They had been together for nearly 2 and a half years and at the point of considering living together.

Now, she had been on her way from work to meet with Calum, the guys and their girls for a much needed night out.

Between study and work she had barely had a time to relax, so Calum got onto Crystal who Y/N knew not to argue with about plans and organized for her to meet all of them at her favourite diner for dinner and drinks afterwards.

The sky was barely starting to go dark when the Subaru connected with the passenger side of the car.

She was doing 60 and her car was pushed sideways into the lane next to her.

The impact tore a grunt from her throat and the drivers side connected with a car parked on the side of the road.

Time seemed to slow as her head connected with the steering wheel and the drivers side door squashed in on her arm.

For a minute she saw black.

She came to with a pounding in her head that resembled a bad hangover, but the blood dripping in her eye brought her to her senses.

Despite the agony in both her arm and her head, she could only think of one thing: She needed to tell Calum she would be late. He would worry about her.

She just needed to get her arm out so she could get her bag that was on the passenger side. A quick text to Calum was all she needed

She just couldn’t reach.

<><><><><>

Calum couldn’t wait to see her. They basically lived together and saw each other every day, but last night he spent it at his own house.

She had an early class followed by a shift at work so he said goodnight to her at 7pm the previous night and left knowing he would see her at the bar the following day.

They were well past the honeymoon stage. Their love was past romantic, past companionate. They were bordering on full consummate love and he couldn’t find a moment where he didn’t have her at least in the back of his mind.

He truly loved her, and they both knew they shared the sentiment.

“All I’m saying is, you don’t know if zebras are black with white stripes, or white with black stripes.”

“What does it matter, Ash?” KayKay laughed from the front seat.

He decided to carpool with Ashton and Kaitlin, as he knew he was going home with Y/N that night.

Their conversations had ranged anywhere from aliens to the colour green and now to zebras and their stripes.

Cal couldn’t deny that he tuned out when KayKay and Ash were disputing the intensity of a specific shade of green.

The ride was energetic and gave off a certain ambience that Calum found himself basking in.

Lately, the only time he ever felt relaxed was with Y/N, but he was enjoying the time spent with his friends and the anticipation of seeing the woman he loved.

Hell, he was just excited to be able to sleep next to her that night. He always slept better with her beside him.

“Shit.” Calum felt the car slow, KayKay pushing her foot into the break with the pace of the car in front. “Calum is that-“

“It looks like it,” Ashton cut her off, whispering in a hushed voice for fear of setting off the Maori mans fight or flight.

They both knew that it would definitely be fight.

When it came to Y/N he would always fight for her.

His brown eyes captured the sight of her white Jeep. He knew immediately it was hers.

“Pull over,” he demands even though the car is almost at a complete stop.

His belt is off and his door is flung open. His ears are deaf to Ashton’s calls.

He clears a car and an ambulance comes into view. There are three paramedics crowded around the car, and two others tending to another car.

He didn’t know what had happened but he needed to know if his girl was okay.

He could hear her cries coming from the vehicle.

“I need to call my boyfriend,” she was breathing heavily. Her voice was cracking and sounded strained.

His heart broke at the sound. He could hear the pain she was in, yet her only thought was of him.

In any other circumstance he would be flattered, but all he could focus on was the paramedic telling her to stay calm because she has a head wound.

“No, please. You need to call him. You need to tell him I’m going to be late.” He got closer to the car, and he could see firefighters working at the door next to her.

Paramedics were on the passenger side of the car that had been dented, but at this moment he could care less about the car.

“Please, I just need to talk to him,” she was pleading.

“Ma’am you need to relax. We will call your boyfriend as soon as we can get you out and looked over.”

“But he’s waiting for me,” she was crying. From the pain or her stress, he didn’t know.

His feet felt more sluggish as he got closer to her, but he couldn’t stop his voice.

“Y/N?” He crouched down near where the paramedics were and his heart ached at the sight.

She was virtually untouched save for the head wound and her arm that had disappeared into the car door.

There were tears on her face and her skin was blotchy from the sobs underneath the blood.

Still, she lit up when she saw him.

“Calum! Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she moved slightly, cringing at the pain in her arm. “Crystals gonna kill me. I ruined our night.”

Calum couldn’t help but laugh, “she won’t care, baby. It’s fine, I’m right here with you.”

“I’m guessing this is the boyfriend?” The paramedic quipped. He was tall but he managed to fit into the small space to hold a gauze against her forehead. “No more tears now?”

The firefighters made quick work of the door. It was crumpled around her arm and they needed to stabilize it as they moved her.

She was into the ambulance for an assessment not long after and they began the ride to the hospital.

Calum made sure to send a quick message to Ashton informing him of the situation, but he turned his phone off after.

He needed to focus on Y/N.

A few hours later and she woke up in a white hospital room, her arm in a cast and elevated and a thick wrap around her head.

Calum was asleep on a chair beside her. He was sleeping so peacefully.

Naturally, she throw a sock at him.

“Hey! Melon!”

He snorted awake, blinking deliriously at the girl perched on the bed.

Despite the pain she was in previously, she beamed at him. Her smile could always settle his worries.

“I’ll let that one slide but stop calling me that!” He laughed at her, standing up and stretching.

She used the one hand that wasn’t in the sling to make grabby hands at him, prompting him to laugh once again and settle on the bed next to her.

“So, dr. Hood. What’s the damage?” She smiled, nuzzling into him.

“The damage is that you have a shattered forearm and a mild concussion. Also, you’re never driving yourself anywhere again. You’re coming with me,” he whispered to her, pressing a kiss to his head. “I can’t tell you how scared I was when I saw your car on the side.”

“As scared as I was being yknow, the one in the car?” She winked, pulling him closer so she could hug him more.

“I love you, you know that right?” He kissed her forehead once again. It was his favourite place to kiss her. She believed it was the most intimate and sweet place to kiss somebody, and he had done so since they started their relationship.

“I love you too, Melon,” she smirked once again.

He was thanking anybody who was there to listen that she was okay. He couldn’t imagine what he would have done if she wasn’t.

“So, I think this is a good time to revisit our conversation about living arrangements,” he said as he toyed with her hands, resting her smaller fingers against his own. “Because, if we lived together, I could fulfill my dream of being your personal chauffeur.”

“Calum, your dream was to make it big with your friends.”

“And I did that. Now this is my new dream.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“You’re gorgeous,” he smiled.

She rolled her eyes, kissing him softly on the lips. “You want to do this? Live together?”

“I really do, baby,” he was staring so intently into her eyes that it forced a redness to rise.

“Then lets do it, Cal. Let’s move in together.”

A smile broke out onto his face, wider than it was before and he leaned over her to kiss her deeply.

“How about I get you a cute little nurse outfit and you can take care of me?” She winked as she pulled away from his lips, allowing him to roll his eyes deeply.

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[medicifm]

*  not  me  actually  writing  an  intro  the  night  before  like  i  always  mean  to  😳  hennyway  hey  biddies  ,  i'm  chloe  ,  im  in  the  snowy  part  of  pst  ,  &  i  use  she / her  pns  .  i’ve  been  . . . . . . .  scouring  the  tags  for  an  rp  like  this  so  im  so  excited  to  bring  this  newish  muse  of  mine  here  !   im  here to  do  the  honours  of  introducing  my  himbo - on - the outside , manipulative - shit - on - the - inside  . . .  oscar  🤡

(  twenty  three , cis  man , he / him  ) ✉ ― hey  babes , have  you  met  OSCAR  MEDICI ?  they’re  working  here  as  THE  HEAD  CHEF  AT  LORENZO’S ,  a  few  villas  down  from  where  you’re  staying  .  you  might  hear  them  singing  ALRIGHTY  APHRODITE  BY  PEACH  PIT  playing  from  their  villa  ,  it’s  their  favourite  song  .  yes  ,  they  hear  that  they  look  like  JACK  GILINSKY  a  lot  ,  actually  -  it’s  really  uncanny  .  their  friends  back  home  in  SYDNEY , AUSTRALIA  say  that  if  they  were  on  a  tv  show  ,  their  trope  would  be  THE  WOLF  IN  SHEEP’S  CLOTHING  ,  how  funny  is  that  ? ✎ chloe , 22 , she/her , pst

𝐢  .

pinterest  |  wanted  plots  |  

𝐢𝐢  .

name  :  oscar  gabriel  medici

age  :  twenty  three

dob  /  sign  :  december  4th  ,  1997  /  sagittarius  sun  ,  leo  moon  ,  libra  rising 

pob  :  sydney , australia

gender / pronouns  :  cis  man  &  he / him / his

career :  head  chef  at  lorenzo’s  ,  full - time  heathen  ,  professional  disappointment  for  mothers  everywhere  .

drinking / drugs / smoking :  yes / more  often  than  he’d  admit / never .  

religion  :  jewish  background  ,  currently  non - practicing .

physical  :  jack  gilinsky  fc ,  dark  brown / black  longish  curls  (  reference  )  ,  dark  brown  eyes  ,  canon  jack  g’s  tattoos  ,  no  piercings  ,  6′2″  ,  175  lbs  ,  lean  but  strong  .  tattoos  a  la  canon!jack  ,  pearly  white  smile  that  he  may  . . .  or  may  not  . . .   use  crest  3D  white  strips  weekly  to  maintain  .  lots  of  burns  &  scars  from  kitchen  mishaps  on  his  hands  &  arms  .

traits  :  hard - working  ,  flighty  ,  intelligent  ,  hedonistic  ,  charismatic  ,  intense  ,  volatile  ,  

other  :  speaks  weird  french  (  aussie  accent  tings  )  ,  tans  easily  but  wears  sunscreen  nonetheless  ,  works  hard  parties  harder  ,  can’t  read  a  lick  of  french  but  spends  a  lot  of  his  free  time  with  a  coffee  &  a  new  paperback  ,  has  a  bit  of  an  internal  vendetta  against  rich  people  (  for  no  real  reason  ,  he  just  doesn’t  like  most  of  them  )  ,  has  ins  with  a  bunch  the  local  farmers  &  visits  them  weekly  ,  pretends  he  isn’t  lowkey  addicted  to  nicotine  administered  via  a  puff  bar  ,  liquor  of  preference  is  tequila  or  red  wine  ,  drives  a  lil  vespa  around  town  for  the  gag  of  it  (  loves  seeing  it  haphazardly  parked  amongst  a  bunch  of  luxury  cars  )  ,  

character  inspo  :  jess  mariano  (  gilmore  girls  )  , gordon  ramsey  🤡 ,  patrick verona ( 10 things i hate about you ) , ferris bueller ( ferris bueller’s day off ) , han solo ( star wars ) .

𝐢𝐢𝐢  .

oscar’s  arrival  was  as  unwanted  to  his  parents  as  could  be  :  a  father  whose  tendencies  leaned  towards  alcoholism  &  abusing  whoever  was  in  arms  reach  ,  a  mother  whose  life  was  more  or  less  spent  at  the  nursing  home  she  worked  as  a  nurse  at  ,  evading  home  .  he  became  a  self - inflicted  loner  ,  preferring  to  do  literally  the  exact  opposite  of  what  was  expected  or  wanted  from  him  .  he  had  a  few  friends  he  ran  with  ,  but  watching  them  all  go  off  &  study  or  prepare  for  university  solidified  in  oscar’s  mind  that  the  non - traditional  route  was  for  him  .  growing  up  by  the  water  ,  oscar  always  felt  more  drawn  to  skip  school  &  head  to  the  beach  than  he  did  obeying  his  parents  wishes  .   

one  of  his  solaces  was  his  grandfather  ,  gabriel  ,  who  owned  an  italian  restaurant  in  a  beach  town  north  of  sydney  .  whenever  the  weather  was bad  &  oscar  felt  like  ditching  class  ,  he’d  head  over  to  his  nono’s  restaurant  where  his  ass  would  be  put  to  work  as  soon  as  he  set  eyes  on  the  restaurant  .  it  was  tough  work  ,  but  challenging  in  a  way  that  fanned  the  flames  in  oscar’s  heart  ,  rather  than  dimming  them  .  by  the  time  he was  a  teenager  he  was  working  in  the  restaurant  everyday  after  school  , an  agreement  between  him  &  his  grandfather  framed  on  the  back  wall  that  stated  that  as  long  as  oscar  kept  from  flunking  out  ,  he  was  allowed  to  spend  as  little  or  as  much  time  in  the  kitchen  as  he  pleased .  

his  absolute  defiance  of  anything  traditional  &  following  the  rules  made  him  unpopular  with  adults  ,  but  lowkey  cool  with  the  girls  .  by  the  time  he  was  sixteen  ,  he  was  losing  his  focus  on  the  restaurant  &  his  grades  &  spending  more  &  more  time  chasing  after  girls  .  his  nono  tried  to  get oscar  to  come  back  &  focus  ,  but  as  always  ,  anything  he’s  asked  to  do  quickly  becomes  the  thing  he’s  running  from  the  most  .

tw  :  death  ,  cancer  .  around  his  eighteenth  birthday  ,  his  grandfather  suddenly  fell  ill  with  a  rare  form  of  cancer  that  took  his  life  six  weeks  after  diagnosis  ,  which  rocked  oscar’s  world  .  he  felt  overwhelming  guilt  that  he  hadn’t  spent  more  time  with  his  grandfather  ,  which  manifested  itself  as  oscar  dropping  out  of  school  a  year  shy  of  graduation  to  commit  himself  fully  to  perfecting  his  grandfather’s  techniques  ,  learning  all  of  his  recipes  (  read  :  pouring  over  dozens  of  handwritten  cookbooks )  in  some  failed  attempt  to  get  back  some  time  with  him  .  oscar  hadn’t  been  close  with  his  parents  in  years  ,  more  or  less  seeing  them  as  wardens  of  a  prison  he  wanted  nothing  to  do  with  .  his  grandfather’s  will  left  him  the  deed  to  the  restaurant  ,  with  an  ask  that  oscar  would  promise  to  act  on  whatever  he  felt  called  towards  ,  rather  than  doing  what  others  expected  of  him  .  to  be  candid  ,  this  whole  situation  crushed  him  .

eventually  ,  he  decided  he’d  had  enough  of  the  stifling  community  he’d  grown  up  in  .  he  sold  the  restaurant  to  one  of  the  regulars  ,  a  wealthy  man  who  he’d  come  to  acknowledge  as  somewhat  of  an  uncle  ;  a  safe  pair  of  hands  who  would  treat  his grandfather’s  legacy  with  as  much  passion  &  respect  as  oscar  himself  would  .  so  he  packed  a  bag  ,  texted  his  mom  that  he  was  going  traveling  ,  &  got  on  a  flight  that  evening  .  he  traveled  all  around  -  first  through  central  america  ,  then  through  europe  ,  throughout  asia  &  africa  ,  &  spent  a  few  months  driving  a  van  across  the  continental  united  states  &  canada  for  fun  . 

eventually  ,  he  started  getting  low - ish  on  money  ,  &  decided  to  settle  in  one  of  his  favourite  places  he’d  visited  :  southern  france  .  he  arrived  in  early  2018  ,  taking  on  whatever  menial  tasks  he  could  while  learning  french  until  he  got  a  position  as  a  line  cook  in  an  italian  restaurant  .  a  few  years  later  ,  he’s  made  his  way  up  to  filling  the  head  chef  position  ,  an  honour  he  takes  with  pride  .  he’s  implemented  many  of  his  own  recipes  while  using  flavours  he’s  learned  from  his  travels  ,  with  ingredients  straight  from  local  farmers  .  he’s  earned  the  restaurant  a  two michelin  star  rating  ,  &  is  constantly  striving  for  more  to  get  that  last  star  (  both  for  his  own  ego  as  well  as  a  secret  debt  to  his  grandfather  )  .

𝐢𝐯  .

ok  but  that  vid  where  gordon  puts  two  pieces  of  bread  on  someone’s  head  &  calls  them  an  idiot  sandwich  ?  that’s  oscar  .  intense  as  fuck  in  the  kitchen  ,  &  best  nobody  catch  an  attitude  about  it  bc  he  will  not  hesitate  to  hand  them  their  ass  on  a  silver  platter  .

another  gordon  reference  :  you  know  how  he’s  the  spawn  of  satan with  adults  ,  but  the  sweetest  ,  most  helpul  guy  with  children  ?  that’s  oscar  with  his  staff  vs  people  he  wants  something  from  .  whether  its  to  sleep  with  them  (  usually  his  first  instinct  to  be  fair  )  ,  their  money  or  clout  ,  or  to  get  into  some  wild  adventure  some  random  resort  staff  wouldn’t  dream  of  getting  into  ,  he  can  turn  on  the  charm  whenever  needed  .

can  go  from  absolutely  demoralizing  someone  in  the  kitchen  to  stepping  out  into  the  lounge  to  schmooze  with  his  friends  or  cougars  who  leave  phat  tips  in  0.2  seconds  .  the  speed  at  which  his  mood  can  completely  180  is  one  of  the  seven  world  wonders  (  last  i  checked  )  .

his  love  language  is  absolutely  acts  of  service  .  catch  him  actually  falling  in  love  once  in  a  blue  moon  &  making  it  his  mission  to  cook  her  extravagant  meals  everyday  .  

the  wolf  in  sheep’s  clothing  label  epitomizes  his  nice  ,  helpful  ,  charismatic  exterior  ,  while  ulterior  motives  &  disdain  for  those  who  grew  up  with  more  money  than  he  did  lurk  beneath  the  surface  . 

he  can  be  MEAN  when  someone  fucks  him  over  or  pushes  him  farther  than  he  wants  -  isn’t  afraid  to  go  for  the  low  blows  or  send  someone  home  with  an  identity  crisis  if  it  protects  himself  .

lowkey  alcoholic  but  he’s  not  ready  for  that  conversation  yet  .  he  sees  it  more  as  perks  of  the  location  &  atmosphere  he’s  found  himself  in  .

also  lowkey  falls  in  love  HARD  ,  like  this  man  is  a  closeted  romantic  but  self - sabotages  all  potential  relationships  before  they  can  get  to  that  point  out  of  fear  he’ll  be  unable  to  live  life  of  his  own  volition  (  takes  a  flaky  philophobic  sagittarius  to  know  a  flaky  philophobic  sagittarius  🤡  )  .  has  probably  only  had  a  few  real  relationships  besides  flings  bc  he’s  afraid  .

𝐯  .

check  out  my  wanted  plots  tag  listed  here  ,  as  well  as  my  pinterest  wanted  plots  board  here  .  here   are  some  other  suggestions  hehe  :

best  friend  /  ride  or  die  :  someone  who  knows  about  his  past  ,  keeps  him  grounded  when  he’s  lk  spiraling  &  wants  to  drop  everything  &  flee  to  some  far  flung  corner  of  the  earth  .

actual  relationship  :  it  was  fast - burn  with  deep  feelings  (  not  them  thinking  they’re  soulmates  after  dating  for  a  month  . . .  pete  &  ariana  type  beat  )  but  completely  unrealistic  .  they  have  their  own  life  ,  he’s  pretty  much  tied  to  the  restaurant  ,  not  to  mention  his  lack  of  sharing  anything  about  his  childhood / life  back  home  .  they  loved  &  cared  for  each  other  ,  but  crashed  &  burned  fairly  quickly  because  of  how  idealistic  it  was  .  they  can  either  be  on  bad  or  good  terms  now  .

hateship  with  sexual  tension  😈

summer  flings  !!

fake  boyfriend  :  he  shows  up  on  her  arm  to  her  family’s  events  where  she’s  expected  to  have  a  partner  .  it’s  not  a  real  relationship  ,  but  her  parents  don’t  need  to  know  that  .  he  plays  the  part  &  satisfies  her  parents  beyond  the  bare  minimum  ,  &  in  return  she  invites  him  to  parties  ,  takes  him  out  on  her  family’s  yacht  ,  etc  etc  .  we  luv  some  symbiosis  

i  can  always  use  more  fwbs  hehehe

squad  :  a  group  of  people  who  do  everything  together  ,  have  a  chaotic  group  chat  ,  have  nicknames  for  one  another  ,  are  utd  on  each  other’s  sex  lives  ,  party  all  night  then  show  up  to  brunch  hungover  together  .  

cat  &  mouse  :  someone  he’s  pursuing  who  isn’t  quite  giving  in  ,  &  vice  versa  .  maybe  it’s  been  going  on  a  few  years  ,  everytime  they’re  in  st  tropez  they  have  this  weird  lil  flirtationship  thing  goin  on  until  she  leaves  ,  they  forget  about  one  another  ,  then  pick  it  right  back  up  when  she  returns  .

confidant  :  preferably  someone  from  a  working  class  background  who  understands  his  plight  of  being  a  worker  amongst  people  who  expect  to  be  waited  on  .

enemies  :  they  don’t  like  his  attitude  ,  &  he  doesn’t  like  them  in  return  .  lots  of  eye  rolls  ,  shit  talking  ,  &  tension  between  their  mutual  friends  .

we’re  sleeping  together  but  we  shouldn’t  be  but  that’s  half  the  fun :  for  whatever  reason  they  became  friends  ,  starting  hooking  up  despite  it  not  being  a  good  idea  (  read  :  he’s  exes  with  one  of  her  friends  ,  her  parents  want  her  focused  on  career  ,  they’re  part  of  the  same  friend  group  ,  etc )  . . . but  now  they  can’t  stop  .  lots  of  stolen  glances  across  rooms  ,  squeezing  past  one  another  in  a  crowded  club  just  close  enough  for  a  quick  touch  to  the  back  ,  quietly  leaving  one  another’s  places  the  morning  after  &  playing  dumb  to  anyone  who  asks  . 

[ladywinterwitch]

Fine Line

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky are in a infinite loop of discussions and stress. Mission after mission, you spend little time together, and that little is disastrous. Your friends decide that enough is enough and organize a little getaway for the two of you where you and Bucky finally have that conversation.

Warnings: angsty af, Bucky is kind of an ass at the beggining (actually both of them), self-deprecating issues, FEELS, TEARS, making out session but not actual smut

Word Count: 4520

A/n: This was supposed to be a smutty one shot with a tiny plot, but then I decided that it had potential so I expanded it instead. This is the ANGST(iest ?) and full-of-feels thing I wrote so far. Also, I listened to Fine Line by Harry Styles, so I recommend listening to it (in general, bc he’s amazing). In conclusion: This is a rollercoster y’all

                                              (gif not mine)

You and Bucky had reached a point where all you did was argue and being grumpy with each other for the stupidest things, and not. The subject of the discussion could’ve been a risky mission or a dirty garment out of place in your room. And when you weren’t together, you were on missions, and when you were on missions the others had to hear you two complaining about the other and then feeling guilty about it. So they, actually Natasha and Tony thought about sending you on a mini vacation, for both yourselves and the sake of the team. 

You weren’t really sure of it, mainly because leaving you assigned missions and duties to them didn’t seem fair, but the didn’t want to hear excuses and the morning after you and Bucky were already on a flight, first class, to Hawaii. Cheesy and quite overused, but Tony liked the classics. 

At first you and Bucky had been a kinda embarassing and awkward with each other. You were so used to be split up and having discussion after discussion, that it seemed almost foreign to be silent and without anything to do. 

You arrived at the hotel, strictly a five star, and you both couldn’t wait to go hide in your suite. You didn’t like those places where you could literally smell the money circling, and you knew Bucky simply didn’t enjoy people in general. It was still a bit of a problem for him. So you decided to do all the speaking, retrieving the key and listening politely to the few but useful informations about the resort that the receptionist gave you. 

Afterwards you took your baggage to your room. No, actually, it was like a mini apartament. In a very large space were a king sized bed, a couch, an extra thin and wide tv, a big bathroom in marble, and two massive window-walls that had a quite small balcony each, a table and two chairs out. 

You put the big bag on the ground and start to explore, while Bucky puts down two suitcases and just throws himself on the bed. 

-Wow, so much for a romantic escape.- you state ironically while you come back to the baggage and start to put your stuff in the wardrobe. He grunts, face pressed on the sheets. He rolls on his back, crossing his arms under his head. 

-Wasn’t my idea.- he responded calmly. You huff out a laugh, shaking your head slightly. 

-Of course not.- you remarked, slamming the, now empty, suitcase shut. He raised an eyebrow, sitting up in a sitting position. 

-What’s that supposed to mean?- he asks with a hint of bitterness in his voice. You turn around from where you were placing both of your clothes, crossing your arms under your breasts. 

-Are you serious right now, Bucky? When’s the last time you ever did something nice for me? No, not for me, for us.- you made sure to emphasize the last words. You’ve been together for a little over a year. At first he courted you, flirted constantly, made sure to make a compliment at least once a day, often he even left little gifts or organized romantic encouters for the two of you. But in the last three months, it all started to lessen, then fade and now it was like a month since you barely could stand the other’s presence. The sex disappeared too, and it was a big thing, if you said so yourself. You used to be all over each other most of the time. 

You did suffer a lot for this, but you couldn’t find the strenght to face the situation. 

-Oh, sorry if I’d been too caught up a new mission every damn week to take you out to dinner! And you know honey, it’s not like you’ve done much on your behalf either.- he got up from the bed, facing you. The room was so big that you basically were in opposite parts of the space. 

-My poor baby. Like you were the only one who had to work his ass off every single day, out of the compoud or not. And you know why? Because you can’t even fucking be nice to people. You’re not gonna get better if you don’t even try!- you exclaimed gesticulating with your hand. He looked hurt for a split moment, then his face changed again, leaving only anger. 

-Yeah, and I bet you had a lot of time to be nice around others.- his lip darted upwards in a derisive smile. 

-What’s that supposed to mean?- You frowned, crossing your arms again in an outraged manner.

-That you haven’t been touching me in months y/n! When I tried to come close to you, avoided me!- he yelled. 

-That’s why you’ve been behaving like an asshole? Because I didn’t feel like having sex? Is that all that matters to you?- you screamed in return. He laughed bitterly for a second.

-Don’t worry, if that would be all I want I would’ve found another solution.- another solution. Which actually meant ‘I could find whoever I want because I don’t need you’. You took a step back, almost like someone pushed you. You swallowed slightly, not wanting to show how much that actually hurted you. 

-Well, then I guess that’s what you should do.- his expression was a mixture of surprise, regret and sadness. -I’m going home.- you annouce, getting out of the room’s door. You don’t look back at him. 

-

You go down the stairs to the reception and straight to the receptionist to whom you talked before. He was a little surprised to see you come back so soon.

-Miss y/l/n. Is everything alright?- he asks. You have to swallow to not throw up because in fact the last thing you were was ‘fine’. 

-Yes.- you respond in a breath, -But unfortunately I had a family problem so I was wondering if you could book me a flight for New York, please? The first available.- he shook his head, starting to type of the computer.

-I’m really sorry to hear about your family, miss. But unfortunately the weather won’t be the best to fly in the next two days. Actually, a really strong wind and a rainstorm are expected to come already tonight. I’m checking just to be sure, but..-his eyes travelled on the screen in front of him while he talked. 

-No, miss, I’m afraid that today and tomorrow’s flights are being cancelled.- he responded mortified. You huffed heavily, a hand in your hair, your elbow placed on the marble counter.

That was just lucky, wasn’t it? You cursed Thor, just to be sure. 

-It’s okay. It’s not your fault, thanks anyway.- you forced out a smile, walking away.

-

Bucky had a bad habit. Which was his impulsiveness, his almost automatic respose to whatever could potentially hurt him, to hurt it back. That was a consequence of all the years he had to endure under Hydra’s control, the pain, the torture, the control. But unfortunately that affected his everyday life. Sometimes he says things that he doesn’t mean, but that are specifically intended to hurt people, that’s  an autodefense mechanism that he can’t really control, that’s why he hates it. So much. It makes him feel like when he was the winter soldier all over again, controlled, caged. 

He knew that he screwed up the moment he said those words. He couldn’t imagine what must’ve been like for you to hear that phrase coming from the person that you loved. Rejection, mockery even. He was feeling like shit. 

He was so shocked at your last words that he didn’t move from his spot near the bed for a few minutes, his mind screaming accusations and awful things to himself for what he did. 

As soon as he came to himself again he exited the room and started to look for you. He looked in the hall, the restaurant, the open bar, the outer pool, the inner pool. Nothing. A thousand thoughts ran through his mind. Did you really went home without him and your stuff? Did you go away by car? Were you at the airport already? 

He was starting to panic, not because he was worried about your wellbeing. Hell, you were one of the most indipendent and most prepared spies he’d ever met. What he couldn’t take anymore was the guilt. He had the necessity to tell you he was sorry, that he didn’t mean what he said, that not in a million worlds he would choose someone else. 

He was in the middle of the lobby near the exit for the pool, when all of a sudden people started to run back inside. He frowned and glanced out the window wall, finding out that it had just started to rain profusely. Well, at least now he knew that you weren’t in the gigantic garden, nor at the beach. 

He gave up and tried to ask to the reception. He walked near the counter, to the man that gave you instructions earlier that morning. He would’ve remembered your face. He cleared his throat, terribly awkward.

-Uhm. Hello, I wanted to ask if you saw my girlfriend in the last hour?- he cringed for how his voice must’ve sounded like. The man smiled politely and nodded.

-Actually yes, mr. She was here about thirty minutes ago. She asked if she could book a flight, but unfortunately I had to inform her that the Maui airprt is closed due to risky weather.- he felt a knot in his stomach. She was really going to leave him. He swallowed, nodding on his own. 

-I see. Thankyou.- Bucky walked away, towards the elevators. He couldn’t blame you for wanting to leave him. He was fucked up form head to toe. His mind...his body. He knew damn well he didn’t deserve you. 

He decided to return to your room, not really knowing what to do. Now he was sure that you couldn’t have left with an airplane, so you must’ve been hiding somewhere. So he sat on the couch, waiting.

-

You wanted to say that you needed a distraction. Because that’s actually true. But all you did instead was to go to the bar, order the strongest drink on the menu and swallow three of them one right after the other. The bartender gave you a side eye, probably thinking that your behaviour didn’t really match your long feminine floral sundress, but you couldn’t care less. Tired of feeling watched by every single one of this rich douches, you decided to get up and go to the roof terrace. You had learned to have a quite high alchol resistance, so if it weren’t for the light dizziness you could’ve almost forgot about the drinks. 

You took the elevator and pushed the button to the last floor, exiting less than a minute later. The sky was not the best, quite grey and with just the tiniest bit of sun that gives the courage to people to step into the water. Just a few people were there, and mostly by themselves reading something or chatting quietly. You spotted an empty couch under one of the gazebos, just next to a beautifully bloomed appletree. You let you yourself fall onto the soft cushions and without even realizing it, you fell asleep. 

-

-Miss.- a female voice called, waking you up -Miss, I’m sorry to disturb you, but it’s raining and a storm is coming, you have to go inside.- it was a young girl, her white suit and tag name telling you that she’s a hotel employee. You blink a few time waking yourself up completely. 

-Yes, thankyou.- she nods and goes running towards the elevator, an umbrella on her hand. You get up from the couch, thanking whoever God above that you had just the tiniest pain in your head, and not a full-on drunk headache. It was probably thanks to the sleep. How much did I sleep? you wonder while you walk quickly to the elvator, the pouring rain getting your whole body wet. 

Finally the doors opened and you pushed the button to your room’s floor, getting out just a few moments later. You started to shiver slightly. You were soaked from head to toe, wearing just your underwear and a very light sundress, and the hotel had a way too high air conditioning.

-Fucking amazing, a pneumonia would really be the cherry on top, wouldn’t it?- you mutter to yourself pulling out the room’s card, opening the door. 

You entered and saw that Bucky was sitting on the chair near the little round table that was placed in a corner of the room. He was sleeping with his arms crossed, his head bending forward. You sighed tiredly, closing the door behind you, trying not to make noise. Then you took off your nikes, placing them under the long radiator in the bathroom. 

You came back into the bedroom to take dry clothes, but you stopped, looking to the man asleep. You huffed softly, walking to him. You leaned forward raising a hand and placing it on his cheek, his stubble tickling your palm. 

-Buck.- you called quietly enough to not startle him awake. - Wake up, your neck will hurt like hell later.- his chest grumbled softly and then his eyes opened wide for a second. Your hand had dropped before he did, and you were back on your way to the wardrobe. 

-Y/n, baby, I searched for you earlier.. W-why are you completely wet?- he stood up quickly, the sleep gone as soon as he saw her. He groaned, reaching to touch the back of his neck to massage it. 

-Look for yourself.- you answered, closing the bathroom’s door behind you. You felt almost sick. You were feeling both the urge to slap him and kiss him at once. He searched for you? He called you baby, after what he said? Did he mean it? Knowing him probably not, but that shit hurted anyway. You tried to sent those thoughts away, at least to try and relax for some time in the bathtub that was filling itsef with boiling water. You stripped naked, tossing the drenched dress, bra and panties to the side. 

You stepped into the tub and lowered yourself in the hot water, letting out a satisfied moan. 

-

Bucky had waited for you for hours. Walking up and down the room, moving from the bed, to the couch, to the chair. He didnt’t even know how or when did he fall asleep. 

And now he was again waiting. In the meantime he decided to change himself with more comfortable and warm clothes. He put on some dark grey sweatpants, a sleeveless white tee and above it a burgundy hoodie. 

He closed the curtains, tidied up the remaining clothes in the wardrobe and the drawers, closed the empy suitcases and put them in a corner of the room. He looked around, trying to find something, anything else to do to keep him occupied while he waited. Then it hit him. He took the phone receiver and digited the number for the room service. He shoot a quick look at the alarm on the night stand: 6.30 pm. They hadn’t eated anything since they arrived at 10 am. 

The phone rang twice and then a woman picked up.

-Room service, good afternoon.- he cleared his throat.

-Yeah, good..afternoon. I wanted to order dinner if that’s possible?- he didn’t know why it was so hard for him to just be normal, for God’s sake. 

-Absolutely, sir. The menu is in the top drawer.- he froze for a second, realizing that he didn’t even took a look. He opened the drawer and picked up the plastic wrapped paper. He read quickly through it then ordered a few things just to be sure. And because he was hungry as fuck and he eated for three. Tony paid, so it was fine. The lady asked for the room’s number and then said that the food would’ve been up in thirty minutes maximum. He thanked her and hang up.

Just a few seconds later the hair blower noise stopped and you stepped out of the bathroom. You had put on a pair of black leggings and an oversized sweatshirt that was actually his. His heart clenched a bit at that. 

-Hey.- he croacked out. He was so nervous. And the fact that she looked so beautiful, her hair loose, shiny and so soft-looking, her cheeks flushed pink for the heat, her plump lips pouting slightly, didn’t help his heart rate.

-Hey.- you responded softly, starting to rub your arms up and down. Not for the cold, obviously, but in a nervous manner. He munched on his lower lip before sitting back on the edge of the bed.

-Can we talk? Calmly this time.- he questioned. She nodded, joining him but still sitting a little distant. There was a moment of silence that Bucky broke.

-Okay, please, I..I need to- he struggled to talk, and it hurted you phisically to see him like that. The only other situations where you saw him this nervous about something were after his nightmares. 

You got closer and took his face in your hands, making him look at you.

-Bucky. Honey, it’s okay. Deep breaths. Yeah, like that, in and out.- your voice reassuring, but it shocked you when he stood up, taking a few steps back from you. Your mouth agape and your troath was starting to burn slightly. 

-No, no, y/n. It’s not okay.- he huffed out -I said things today...that I didn’t mean. It’s not true that I would go and find someone else, not only because I’m a fucking disaster with people but also because I would never, ever, in a million years replace you. In any way, with anyone. You know why?- he sniffed licking his lips to try not to cry. You weren’t in a much better situation, but you understood that he needed to let it out, so you remained still to listen.

-Because I love you, y/n. I love your wonderful smile, your bright eyes, your peachy scented hair, your skin, that has been through battles but remains soft nonetheless. Just like you. Yeah, because you may be one of the most badass women I’ve ever met, a perfect spy, a master in your job...but you also manage to stay human, true to yourself and in what you believe in. You are my sun and stars. Often the only thing that keeps me from going mad.- he lowered his head, breathing heavily -So, no. You’re not an option. You are my first and last, and the only one I need. The only one I’ll ever choose.- a small smile appeared on your face while silent tears ran down your cheeks. 

There was a moment of silence, and when you had finally decided to got to him and tell him how much he was important for you too, he resumed talking, cutting off your actions at the start.

-You’re all those things and more. And that’s exactly why I understand your decision to leave me.- you frowned, he continued -You don’t deserve me. You don’t deserve to be with someone who’s damaged, body and soul.- the disgust that his voice expressed broke your heart. How could he think something like that? Then you realized that you knew why. You did, even if it was hard to accept that it was in part your fault. For all the times you’ve held him to you, telling him that it was not his fault, that he’s a good man, that he deserves to be loved....just one stupid time broke that fragile wall that you’ve come to create in your time together. 

You rose from the bed, not being able to listen anymore because it was phisically hurting you to see him suffer like that. 

-Bucky.- you called him then cleared your troath the best you could manage. He looked up at you, his cerulean eyes were shiny and now seemed almost transparent with the tears. You walked to him and circled your arms around his shoulders, pushing him flush against you. He let himself go, starting to sob while you scratched the hair at the nape of his neck lightly with your fingertips, the other hand on his upper back rubbing up and down. You bit your lip to stop your quivering lips  while you tried to talk. 

-Bucky, I’m the one who has to ask for forgiveness. I just now realize what my words must’ve meant to you. You probably felt betrayed, humiliated, wrong, and fuck I’m so, so sorry baby...so sorry.- you cried and he tried to separate himself from you, but you held him right there and he remained still, understanding. You wouldn’t have been able to finish if you looked at his face. 

-I want you to know that it’s not true, okay? What I said. You are trying, and I can see that. We all can, I promise you. You just need more time, but we will get through this together and it’ll be okay, alright? I’ll always be with you when you need me. I don’t have excuses for saying that apart from the fact that I was tired and that the last two months have been hell. For both of us. That’s why I’m not angry at you for what you said. I understand the circumstances, and that you really didn’t mean it. Bucky I know how much you love me, and I want you to know that I love you too. So goddamn much that it destroys me to see you like this. You don’t deserve this. You know all those times, after you had a nightmare, or you felt insicure about something..all those times I told you that you deserve to be loved, that you’re a good man and trying your best?- you felt him nod a little on your shoulder, and you smiled nodding on your own.

-I really thought that. And I still do. I’ll never change my mind. So, you’re the one that should be angry, not me. But remeber that I’ll always love you and nothing’s gonna take me away from you. That’s not something you have to worry about.- suddenly he backed away from your shoulder, colliding his lips with yours in a kiss. 

You both seemed to forget the detail that you were having a kinda complicated conversation, because the kiss deepened and you started by taking off his hoodie, he then he slipped your sweatshirt above your head, leaving you just with a white tank top that left little to nothing to the imagination and he groaned, attacking your neck with wet kisses and bites. You gasped and reached to push down his sweatpants, but the doorbell rang interrupting the two of you. You looked at each other and quickly tried to recompose yourselves. You tries to brush your hair with your fingers and wiped away the tears with your palms while he did the same, passing to you his hoodie that was quicker to put on. 

-Thanks.- you said while he went to open the door. A hotel emplyee had brought a cart with several covered plates of food. He widened his eys a bit when he saw the couple. 

-Room service. I believe that you called earlier, sir?- Bucky rose a hand then letting it fall quickly as a confirmation.

-Yeah, I did. Thanks very much. The drinks are in th mini bar, right?- he asked. The employee nodded.

-Exactly, sir. May I enter the room? Unfortunately I can’t leave the cart here, so I’ll have to place the plates inside.- you cleared your troath.

-Yes, sure.- you gave permission and with your spy skills you picked up your discarded sweater from the floor before he could see it. Bucky stepped aside, letting the man in. He pushed the cart inside and started to place the plates onto the coffe tabl in front of the couch. You had your arms crossed while you waited.

You moved your gaze and met Bucky’s one. He was leaning against the wall nearby, mirroring your position, and he was looking at you with the slightest smirk, a look in his eyes that made you blush. You were an adult, vaccinated, professional spy, and a man was making you blush like you were a fifteen year old girl. Unbelivable, you scolded yourself mentally. 

You had to do something to distract yourself or you would’ve probably melted on the spot, so you went near the employee and started to help him. Bucky really did the most with Tony’s credit card uh?, you thought.

-Let me help you.- the man started to say that it wasn’t necesary, but you shut him up saying that you didn’t mind.Two plats later you finished arranging everything and he wished you a good evening and dinner.

-Tony’s gonna be real happy I bet.- you chuckled and your boyfriend walked behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle, his chin resting you your shoulder.

-Can we finish our conversation? I just want to be okay with everything, that’s all.- he asked softy, calmly. You sighed and turned to face him, his arms still holding your figure.

-What you said...I won’t deny that it’s true, it hurted. Just like I hurt you. I think that was the main purpose, for how awful that sounds. We weren’t in the right state of mind to have a decent conversation, like we are now, and that’s okay. You forgave me and I forgive you. I don’t doubt that you mean it when you say all those sweet things- he nuzzled your nose with his making you smile while he mirrored your expression before going serious again -Because I trust you. With my life.  I don’t know if I deserve it, but. - you tried to intervene, but he shut you up with a quick peck on the lips. 

-Please, let me finish. The point is, I don’t want something like this to happen ever again. I don’t want to have periods where we don’t talk or when we do we tear each other apart, because then bullshit like this would exit our mouths even if we don’t mean it. I think, if you agree, that we should put this behind our backs, and instead promise each other to talk when we feel the urge to. What d’ya think?- your eyes were fond while you smile at him, your hand on his cheek, caressing his cheekbone with your thumb.

-I think that’s perfect.- a sweet kiss, then you separated from him going towards the minibar.

-Now,- he smirked watching you -How about we celebrate?- you bend down to take a bottle of, you were sure of it, very expensive red wine and turning back to him.

-I say that I want to eat that food before I eat you.- his strong hands landing on your hips to drag you flush against him, a sly smile half hidden by his teeth tugging at his bottom lip. You laughed, still holding the bottle.

-Well, then let’s eat, because I’ll need all the strenght I can get to love you properly later.- 

Hi again. This got LONG. Also, tell me if it’s shit, I promise I’ll never write something like this again in that case lol

[protectbrowngirls]

Hello, I'm a 17 yo Muslim girl living in Ireland. My entire life I've hidden my interests and things I've loved from my parents. I love music, gaming, makeup, art and am generally a big nerd. I want to grow up and become independent and do what I love. But my parents are very against me traveling or living alone. I'm even scared to talk to team mates when I play games bcs they'll say I'm talking with boys (my brother always does tho) if I try to argue they'll threaten to take me back home

It sounds like you’re struggling between your desire to live an independent life and your desire not to disappoint or upset your parents. This is a valid and normal struggle; however, the reality is that in the process of becoming independent, you will almost definitely end up upsetting your parents, even if only temporarily. 

There are few important things that are key to building an independent life: financial independence, setting boundaries, and giving yourself permission not to manage your parents’ emotions for them. ((This got long, unsurprisingly, so the rest of this answer is under a cut.))

Financial independence. Money is the easiest thing to hold over you and use as a guilt trip. As long as you are relying on your parents to finance your interests and travel, they will always be able to say, “Our money, our rules,” and you will always feel guilty that you’re using their money on things they disapprove of. If you’re able to start earning your own income, whether through saving up holiday money, picking up a part-time/freelance job, etc., you’ll be in a much better position to pursue the things you enjoy without feeling beholden to your parents. You also take away one of the tools they can use to control you, which makes it easier to set boundaries.

If you can start earning your own income, I would highly recommend keeping it secret from your parents. Granted, I don’t know your parents, and they might be okay with you using your own money on whatever you want. From the way you’ve described them, however, I’m inclined to believe they’ll try to control the money you’ve earned in addition to whatever support they’re giving you. Once you turn 18, set up a bank account and a debit card they don’t know about so you can indulge yourself without worrying about explaining yourself to them. I believe a lot of banks will waive the minimum monthly deposit requirement if you can show you’re a student. 

Unfortunately, as with most things surrounding the topic of living your own life, financial independence can be difficult to achieve until you become an adult and have the ability to pursue jobs and education and major life changes. However, please know things will become easier if you hang in there! 

Setting boundaries. I’ve found most brown parents are flagrantly disrespectful of their kids’ boundaries, usually because a) they think their kids’ boundaries are rude or stupid (aka don’t make sense to the parents), b) they perceive any sort of attempt to set a boundary as a challenge to their authority, and/or c) they just expect complete and total obedience from their kids because they’re elders and therefore should never be questioned. As a result, a lot of brown kids never learn to set boundaries, because they’re never taught that they can expect their boundaries to be respected.

This doesn’t mean boundaries can’t be set; it just means that the process of doing so takes time and will result in high tensions. In terms of gaining independence, the boundaries you set should ultimately amount to something like: “I am allowed to do things you disapprove of (within reason) without being unduly punished solely for wanting something you do not approve of.” The “within reason” part of this will change, both as you grow older and as you set firmer and firmer boundaries. Right now, since you’re a minor, “within reason” might mean “I am allowed to sleep over at my friend’s house so long as I call you before I go to sleep and when I wake up in the morning.” Over time, “within reason” may expand to mean “I am allowed to travel wherever I want and for however long I want, provided I am not going into debt, I give you my flight details so you know where I am, and I do my due diligence in researching how to be safe.”

In order to set that overarching boundary, you have to set a few smaller boundaries:

I am allowed to do things you disapprove of

I will, on occasion, disappoint you. Your disappointment is not my burden to bear

Your punishments should be reasonable, not a product of being upset that I’ve done something harmless that you don’t like

You are not entitled to knowing every single detail about every single aspect of my life

etc.

One way to set these boundaries is to talk with your parents and tell them you would like more independence, and you know they’re worried about you but you think their worries are stifling your happiness, and you’d like to find ways to address their fears so you can still do things you enjoy. They may be willing to work with you. 

However, it’s more like that you’ll have to set these boundaries by asking forgiveness instead of permission, in which case you’ll need to start small and work your way to larger boundaries. The best way I can think of to illustrate what I mean is by sharing my own examples: 

I started staying out with my friends for an hour longer than I’d said I would, which set the boundary of “I’ll be home by dinner/bedtime, but I won’t adhere to irrational and senseless curfews.” 

I started dyeing my hair and getting tattoos without telling them beforehand, setting the boundary of “I will do things you disapprove of, and that’s okay” as well as “The things I do with my own money are not yours to control.” 

Once I had my own car, I started going on road trips without permission, setting the boundary of “I am allowed to travel independently, so long as I am safe and don’t drive more than 6 hours a day.” 

Ultimately I started outright telling my parents, “I understand that you are upset, and you can yell and threaten and insult me all you want, but that won’t prevent me from doing this thing I want to do,” setting the boundary of “Your disappointment is not a valid reason for me to deprive myself of the things I enjoy.”

There are two crucial components of setting a boundary: sticking to your guns, and not letting your parents’ emotions change your mind (more on this in a second). In terms of sticking to your guns, you have to set boundaries you are capable of enforcing. For example, if you say “I’m getting coffee with a male friend after school,” and they say “well, we just won’t drive you home,” you have to be able to say “that’s fine, I can hitch a ride/take the bus.” If you have to rely on your parents to drive you home, this isn’t a boundary you can feasibly set or enforce, and you’ll end up giving in, which tells your parents that they can just threaten you to get their way. 

In terms of dealing with your parents’ emotions...

Your parents’ emotions are not your responsibility to manage. Your parents will 100% push back against you when you try to set any kind of boundary or challenge their control; it is important that you do not let their threats and shouting guilt you into going back on your words. Their anger and need to control you may stem from fear or worry or good intentions, but it is on them to learn how to cope with their fear in a healthy manner instead of taking it out on you. It is not your job to make them feel better about you doing the things you enjoy; you have enough on your plate already, what with overcoming your own guilt and apprehension in order to push your parents. 

Do not try to approach them in good faith, because they will not approach you in good faith. Don’t try to convince them that you’re being rational. Don’t try to get them to see your side. Acknowledge their feelings, and then refuse to engage with them. You have to train them to realize that their knee-jerk reaction of controlling you is no longer effective. 

It helps to have some scripts you can follow, and to practice them with yourself or with your friends. For example: “I understand that you’re upset. However, I don’t think it is productive to talk about this until you can speak without shouting. I’m going to my room now. Please let me know when you would like to discuss this issue so we can find a solution we’re both happy with.” And then go to your room. Shut the door. Don’t fight back when your parents inevitably start to insult you. Then push that same boundary a week or two later, and repeat this process until they get the message. 

Either they’ll kick you out (which is why I highly highly recommend waiting until you have some sort of independence before setting the most extreme boundaries), or they’ll eventually come to terms with you doing what you enjoy, even if it disappoints them in the process. 

In conclusion. It’s a delicate balance between living an independent life and showing your parents that you can still be a good daughter and person even if you don’t see eye-to-eye with them. It will take time, and it will hurt, and you might feel like it’s all hopeless. That’s normal, and you aren’t alone in feeling that way. But I promise it gets easier over time. I promise you’re allowed to lead your own life without being afraid of how your parents will react. 

Of course, please take this advice with caution, and don’t challenge your parents indiscriminately if you know they’ll send you away to boarding school or something. I trust you to employ your best judgment, since you know your parents best. I wish you the best of luck! Please let me know if I can offer any other advice or encouragement!

[flintsjohn]

8. “Why are you so jealous?” For Malex please! :)

i might have given them jenna and max’s plot, only it has a happy ending bc i’m soft. they’re both dumb, what’s new!! 

The last thing Alex expects coming back to Roswell after twotours with the Air Force and undergoing the Deputy training program is to bepartnered with his high school crush on his first day on the job. MichaelGuerin still looks every bit like every wet dream Alex’s ever had, only he nowalso wears a uniform, sports a permanent five o’clock shadow, and is apparentlybuilt like a brick wall.

Their first day on patrol duty is hell. Guerin is chatty anddownright flirty. He delights in making Alex blush and lose his train ofthought. He’s loud, leaves sugary prints all over the car whenever he eatsdonuts, and has such a chaotic energy about him that Alex struggles to keep upwith him on most days. It’s exhausting. He’s also the best deputy on the force,according to both Sheriff Valenti and Max Evans. Alex understands why fairlyquickly.

Guerin might be a tornado, but he’s kind, fiercely protective, and he genuinely wants to help people. He’s also smart as fuck – Alex learns this quickly,too, from the fact that Guerin’s favorite pastime is apparently reading booksoverly crammed with numbers and equations that make Alex go cross-eyed. He candish out random facts about quantum physics at six in the morning and wins anyand every quiz night at the station.

Working with him drives Alex crazy. On most days, he justwants him to shut up, because Alex is not overly talkative and likes his quietwhen he’s working. He also wants to kiss the shit out of him, because Guerin isstupidly hot and somehow, all the traits that bug Alex also make him all themore attractive. So one day, he just puts the two needs together.

Guerin waves at him with a donut when he gets in the carafter their night shift. They live close enough to each other that they carpoolon most days - when they’re too lazy to walk, because Roswell is not that big atown anyway. He’s saying something about Alex’s pre-emptive bed head that hebarely pays attention to. He smashes their mouths together, tasting the sugaron Guerin’s lips when he opens his mouth. There’s a whimper that Alex is onlyfifty percent sure comes for Guerin, though the other man hasn’t moved. WhenAlex draws back, he’s staring at him, eyes as big as saucers.

“I’m sorry,” Alex gets out immediately, cheeks going red. “Ishouldn’t- That was highly unprofessional.”

Guerin makes a choked sound in his throat that could havebeen intended as a laugh, then swallows. “Sure was, Manes,” he says easily,licking his lips. He takes his time putting the donut back in the box restingbetween their two seats, then licks his fingers clean – Alex has to look away fromthe sight before his mind starts wandering. Guerin clears his throat before hesays, casually, “Your place or mine?”

The next few hours, Alex spends in a stupor. They head toMichael’s place – it’s always Michael’s, after that – and waste no time ingetting to the point. Their first kisses are full of lust and hunger, butthey’re both exhausted from their night shift, so by the time they get to thebed and are fully undressed, they’ve slowed to a lazy rhythm, grinding togetheras their hands wander over each other’s bodies.

Michael eventually rolls them over so he’s under Alex andasks him, none-too-gently, to fuck him. Alex is only too happy to oblige,though his head is currently a mess of jumbled thoughts of oh fuck, I’m having sex with my high school crush, which only getprogressively worse when Alex realizes how perfectly he and Michael fittogether. He has his mind half set on once again bringing up how highlyunprofessional of them this is when it’s over, but then Michael is curling upagainst his side with a satisfied sigh, already well on his way tounconsciousness, and Alex goes all soft looking at him. He doesn’t stay long,waiting for Michael to be fully asleep before he slips from the bed and getsdressed. It’s an asshole move, but he was already risking falling for Michaelas it was before and now, having slept with him… It only feels all the more inevitable.But damn him if Alex won’t do his best to delay it for a while.

He’s dead set on confronting Michael on their next shift,but then it just keeps happening. It’s Michael offering to take him home aftera particularly groveling shift, or texting him asking if he wants to come overto watch the game – when he knows full well that Alex can’t even tell thedifference between football and basketball – or asking if he wants to get adrink after work. They always end the night – or day, depending on theirschedules – the same way. After the fourth time, Alex resigns himself to thefact that he’ll have to enjoy the part of Michael he gets to have for as longas he can have it, all while trying to keep his feelings in check. He alwaysstays just long enough to catch his breath, and tells himself that he’s notbeing a jerk because Michael never mentions it, but that doesn’t mean he can’t feel guilty over it anyway.

*

Michael is already leaning against the door when Alexclears the last flight of stairs. There’s a playful smirk on his lips and helets his eyes travel slowly up Alex’s body – Alex feels it like a physicaltouch and has to keep himself from shuddering. He swallows around the lump inhis throat as he takes in Michael’s appearance. He looks soft and sleepy, but still entirely edible –sweatpants slung low on his hips, an oversized sweater hanging half offhis shoulder, showing off his collarbones, his hair ruffled and soft-looking.

“Hey,” he manages as he stops in front of Michael. He’sstrung tight with tension and can’t meet his eyes, fingers fidgeting with thebottle of tequila in his hands.

“Hey yourself,” Michael drawls. Alex is still staring at hisbare feet but can feel him shifting from a lean to stand firmly on both feet.“Alex?”

“My dad’s in town,” Alex blurts out, a sigh following thewords. He finally brings his eyes up to Michael’s face to see the realizationdawning upon his features, Michael’s eyes widening. Over the past months,they’ve both shared some of their family histories, in moments when the worldwas quiet and they had to fill the silence during long night shifts. He’slearned about Michael’s childhood in foster care, and traded back some ofhis memories of his father. So Michael’s small nod is all Alex needs to knowthat he understands the situation perfectly.

Michael’s hand comes up to slowly stroke down the hand Alexis holding the bottle with, fingers closing around his and pulling him closewith the smallest tug. “Need to blow off some steam?”

“Please,” is all Alex has to say for Michael to pull him inmore firmly, door slamming closed after he makes it inside. The tequila isforgotten on the coffee table as they stumble to the bedroom, mouths connectedand hands wandering. As usual, they barely make it to the bed, laughing as theycollapse on it in a heap, before Alex is pushing Michael down on it andclimbing in his lap.

It takes his mind off of things alright, for a time atleast. It’s rougher than usual, Michael’s fingers leaving bruises on his hips, Alex urging him to go harder, deeper, so that he can ignore the way his eyes water from something entirely different from pleasure. But after, when he’s curled up on Michael’s chest and catching hisbreath, the panic over the thought of his father being in town comes back infull force. He feels vulnerable, scraped raw, and like he’s shown a part of himself that he’d wanted to keep hidden, without ever saying a word.

“Hey.” Michael’s voice reaches his ears, but barely, likehe’s calling at him from far away. Alex looks up from where he was staring athis own fingers running paths through Michael’s chest hair. Michael runs a handthrough Alex’s messy hair, tugging a little at the strands. It centers Alex,makes him close his eyes and take a deep breath. “Where are you?”

“’m right here,” he sighs, dropping his head back ontoMichael’s shoulder.

“Are you?”

“You just fucked my brains out, twice, Guerin, what d’youwant me to say?” Michael hums, the sound reverberating through his chest andmaking Alex shiver.

“Is that why you look like your mind is somewhere else?”

Alex sighs. He runs a hand down his face, then sits up andcurls away from Michael, already reaching for his clothes. He can hear thesound of the sheets rustling behind him, like Michael’s dragging them closer tohim. He’s already half dressed when Michael speaks up. “You leaving?” His tonemakes it clear that he already knows the answer to that question. After all, it’sa solid pattern for them – text, fuck, cuddle for maybe five minutes, notalking, get dressed. Rinse and repeat about twice a week.

When Alex turns, Michael has also sat up. He’s already gothis boxers on and is dragging his sweater over his head, leaving his curls a mess.It’s like he felt vulnerable in his nakedness with Alex mostly dressed. Hepeeks at Alex as he settles back against the headboard, chewing on histhumbnail.

“You don’t have to, you know. I think I have some leftoverpizza, we can-“

“Guerin.” Michael’s jaw locks like he’s biting down on hiswords. Alex gets his shoes on so he doesn’t have to look at him as he says, “Idon’t want to talk about it.”

“Right.” There’s something in Michael’s eyes that Alexdoesn’t quite recognize when he looks back up at him, now fully dressed. Heclears his throat, hands twitching at his sides. He wants to reach for him,tuck that one wayward curl behind his ear, press a kiss to Michael’s forehead.He does none of that, just nods at Michael and lets himself out of the apartmentbefore his mind gets into more dangerous territories.

*

The next day, Michael corners him after a their shift, bothof them dead on their feet after a long day and ready to go home. He has apaper bag in hand and he’s soft around the edges when he holds it up for Alexto take.

“What’s this?” Alex asks, pushing through a yawn as he takesthe bag.

“Stuff you left at my place. Hoodie, some dvds…” He trailsoff, shrugging, then turns to his locker to change. Alex stares at his backstupidly until Michael has finished getting dressed and has turned back to facehim.

“I just-“ Michael sighs, scrubbing his hands over his faceand then pushing them back into his curls. “I think it’s better we stop with… Whateverthis is we have going on.”

“I don’t understand.” Alex blinks at him, hands clutching atthe bag – apparently, his brain has stopped working, because he can’t processwhat’s happening. He thought it was pretty clear what they were doing, and Michael was the one to invite him over most of the time. The way his voice betrays some sadness makes no sense to Alex, nor do his next words. 

“Listen, that guy, Oliver? I know you like him. And I thinkyou should ask him out. I don’t wanna be an obstacle to that, alright?”

What the fuck?Sure, Oliver is cute, comes in from the café across the street to bring theirorders of coffee and donuts every morning, and Alex likes him well enough. He’seasy to flirt with and it takes his mind off of work for ten minutes every day.But why in hell would Michael tell him to ask him on a date?

“Guerin, I don’t-“

“Just ask him out, will ya?” Michael smiles at him, grabshis bag, and presses a kiss to Alex’s cheek before he moves to the door,leaving Alex gaping at the spot he just vacated.

*

“What is it, are you jealous, is that it?”

Michael scoffs at him, turning back to his beer, but Alex isundeterred.  It’s a week later, he’staken Michael’s advice, and is at the Wild Pony with Oliver. The date was actuallygoing pretty well, at least up until the moment Michael showed up. Their shiftsafter the talk in the locker room had been surprisingly quiet, but not tense,so Alex had figured things were still alright between them. But Michael hadbarely spared a glance their way when he got in, he’d been scowling and he ignored Alex’sgreeting completely, so Alex had excused himself from Oliver and followed himat the bar.

“You told me toask him out!”

Michael clenches his jaw like he’s holding back a pettyreply. His jaw works for a moment before he says, “He just wants to get in yourpants.”

“Yeah, and? You don’t exactly have the moral high groundhere, Guerin.” Alex crosses his arms over his chest and glares at the side ofhis face. Michael still hasn’t turned to face him. It suits Alex just fine.Guerin wants to be an asshole about this after he pushed Alex away? Fine, but itdoesn’t mean Alex won’t give him a piece of mind.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Michael mutters into his beer,chugging the last of it.

“Why do you care?” Alex says, exasperated, his arms goingraised up and away from his body before they slam down to his hips again.

“You know why.” Michael carefully places the glass back downand finally turns to Alex, who’s staring at him wide-eyed. He smiles, soft andsad. Alex’s breath catches in his throat when he sees him reaching a hand outbefore he seems to remember it’s not his place anymore, and he lets it drop onhis leg.

“You’re the one who ended things,” Alex says after a moment,knowing that the confusion he’s feeling is clear in his voice. This doesn’t make any sense. Michael’s thoughts on this have always been clear. Or maybe… Has he been reading the situation wrong all this time?

“Yeah, well,” Michael shrugs, hands fidgeting with a loosestrand in his jeans. “Our arrangement wasn’t really working out for meanymore.”

“Guerin-“ Alex’s voice is so low that he knows Michael hasto strain to hear it. Michael’s eyes close for a moment at the sound, and thenhis body is swaying back on the stool, away from Alex.

“You should go back to your date,” he says in the end, handalready rummaging in his pocket for cash. He’s up and heading for the door asecond later, and he doesn’t stop when Alex calls for him again.

*

It takes exactly 43 minutes for Alex to realize that Oliveris actually a jerk, dump him, and drive to Michael’s flat. By the time he getsthere, Michael has already changed into the usual sweatpants-and-sweater lookhe sports when he’s home, the one that has go Alex weak in his knees a little. Ifthe look on Michael’s face is anything to go by, he’s surprised to see him.

“Alex?”

“We need to talk.” He doesn’t wait for Michael to replybefore he’s shouldering past him and shrugging his jacket off as he heads tothe couch. Michael takes his time shutting the door, then presses his back toit after he turns to face Alex, like he doesn’t trust himself to be closer toAlex.

“You were right, for what it’s worth,” Alex says. He’s ableto sit still on the couch for all of five seconds before he’s up and pacing,hands tugging at his hair. “Oliver’s a jerk.” He stops moving because Michaelis suddenly up in his space, eyes frantic as he looks him over. Alex raises hishands in a placating gesture. “He didn’t touch me.”

Michael moves back after a second, reassured, but he doesn’tgo far. He hovers, uncertain of what to do – Alex can see it in the way hishands clench and unclench at his sides. He sighs and takes an aborted stepforward, everything in his being drawing him to Michael, but he wrencheshimself back and towards the couch once again. If he wants this conversation tobe successful, he needs to think clearly, and he can’t do that if he’s standingtoo close to Michael.

“Look, the thing is… I didn’t want him anyway.” He shrugs,ignoring the way Michael’s eyes narrow warily. “But then you broke things offand I thought, why not? Least I could do was give it a try. I didn’t considerhow hard it would be, being out with him when, the whole time, my mind was seton someone else.”

Michael makes a choked off sound, but he doesn’t move. Hishands are now clenched into fists. It’s like he needs a physical reminder tonot step closer to Alex. Alex knows that feeling all too well. He swallows,searching for the right words with which to put what he wants to say next, but Michael speaks first. “Why didn’t you sayanything?”

“I-“ Alex looks around aimlessly, at a loss for words. “Ithought you were ok with what we had, that you didn’t want it to be more thanthat.”

“You thought Ididn’t want more?” Michael scoffs, and it’s like something in him has finallybeen unlocked. He steps forward, features pinched tight in disbelief. “You werealways the one running out of the door as soon as we were done! You never evenlet me get a word in!”

And yeah, he might have a point. Alex isn’t going to denyany of that, and he feels the embarrassment crawling beneath his skin at beingreminded of his behavior. But then again… “You never said anything either! Ithought that’s all you wanted, and then tonight, at the Pony, you just-”

Again, the sound coming out of Michael’s mouth is adisbelieving one. He crosses his arms over his chest, now only a few steps awayfrom Alex, who’s fidgeting, hands going from behind his back, to crossed overhis chest to mirror Michael, to being bunched in his pockets. He needs to beextremely careful with his next words, but he knows he has to get them outsooner or later, or risk losing Michael for good over a stupidmisunderstanding. He has to tell the truth.

“I’ve had a crush on you since junior year of high school,”he says after taking a deep breath. Michael’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, andAlex fights through a blush to continue, “Being with you seemed like a dream,but I thought sex was all that was on the table. I know it’s selfish, but I wasok with that being the deal as long as I got to be with you in some capacity. Iran away every time because I didn’t want to risk actually falling for you.Being your partner was already proving hard enough, and I couldn’t imagineresisting it if we added pillow talk and cuddling to the mix. I guess I never actually paid enough attention to how you were feeling to realize we might have become more, and I’m sorry.”

He shrugs when he finishes, eyes set on his own feet.Michael is silent for a moment, and Alex is already telling himself that hesaid too much, he’s ruined his chance. But then, oh, then all Michael says is, “Didit work?”

Alex looks up, eyebrows drawn tight in confusion. “Did whatwork?”

“Running away so you wouldn’t fall for me. Did it work?”

Alex swallows, looking away. He shakes his head, once, aquick snap of his head back and forth. When he looks over at Michael again, he’ssurprised to find he’s significantly closer than he was a moment ago, andsporting a quickly widening grin. He shivers when Michael reaches for him, eyesfalling shut as fingertips stroke down his cheek.

“Good,” Michael whispers against his ear, body pressing intoAlex’s and making him tremble. There’s an arm around his waist keeping him up,so he lets himself collapse into Michael, just a little, as the other manpresses his next words into his skin along with a kiss. “Because it didn’t workfor me either.”

Alex gasps, drawing back just enough so that he can acceptMichael’s kiss, pull him closer as he deepens it. It has only been aweek, but he’s missed Michael’s lips on his, the feeling of Michael’s bodypressing against his own, of Michael’s soft curls under his fingers. Welcome home, this kiss seems to say. Helets his forehead rest against Michael’s when they pull back, a small smileblossoming on his lips. “You saying you’re in love with me, Guerin?”

Michael laughs, short but happy, pressing another kiss tothe corner of Alex’s lips. “Yeah, Manes, I guess I am.”

Alex hums, delaying his answer in favor of pressing pecks towhichever part of Michael’s face he can reach. His mind is swarming withthoughts of how he’ll have to transfer, or at least get the Sheriff to switchpartners, because recreational sex might be only slightly unprofessional, but arelationship definitely, a hundred percent, is. God, a relationship. He can’tquite believe that’s what seems to be on the table now, when just an hour agohe’d thought Michael had ended things between them because he didn’t want himanymore.

Michael’s hands stroking down his back bring him back intofocus. He still hasn’t said anything, but he lets Michael lead him to thebedroom, lets him undress him. For one night, he gives up all control, letshimself be taken care of. Only after, when they’re properly cuddling for thefirst time, his face pressed into Michael’s neck and Michael’s arms around him,he lets the words slip out of his mouth, impossibly soft and almost foreign onhis tongue. “I love you.” And if saying them gets him the same words comingfrom Michael, equally soft and more than a little awe seeping through hisvoice, well, then Alex doesn’t plan on stopping any time soon.

[starsailorstories]

I’m just posting this bc, idk, I’ve gotten tired of not posting much writing on tumblr, and I’m not sure how much of this particular storyline is in or out of vol. 2 at this point so I feel like I can post it and...probably not be spoiling anything

Backstory here for those who don’t know it: Lionna Luneia Sola (whose full name, fun fact, literally means “north star, full moon, [local] sun”) is next in line for a very high and favored noble office titled by the Hyperians (so her power is tied to the aula’s--that’s important) and was pressured into a political marriage to the daughter of a wealthy shipbuilder in response to a direct request made of her aunt by the royal family. Her wife died pretty young just by chance, leaving Lionna positioned to inherit control of a huge business on top of her political duties, and a few quinturns later her parents made an ill-fated trip to the Milky Way and were lost in space. So for the past half-turn or so she’s been panicking alone at the top of the world, putting off her official instatement as a Marchiesa of the Outer Rings. Her only real confidant is Definite, a former umbralis who was assigned to serve her when they were both young teens and now is with the rebellion. She’s still posing as her umbralis because the proximity to power is really good for the rebellion’s intelligence situation, and at this point that’s all out in the open and Lionna’s become sympathetic and is trying to leverage her position to keep Defi and her allies as safe as possible, but there’s still a lot of baggage there. Also she’s been secretly in love with her since they were kids together, but that is SO taboo and also seems a bit exploitative so she’s trying to push those feelings away somewhere convenient. ANYWAY,

Lionna climbs the Aula’s thirty-six steps, lifting the few remaining corners of her mourning-scarlet drapery that aren’t folded over Definite’s arm. She’s come as discreetly as she can manage, but by design there isn’t really a discreet way to inherit a noble office in the Rings.

Particularly when you’re late.

“You’re late,” Maximata Caliopa observes, traveling diagonally to meet her halfway up.

“I know. I got stuck at security.”

“You would think they would know who you are by now.”

“Well, rules are rules,” she says, with what she hopes is a beatific, gentle smile worthy of someone who hasn’t been making up excuses all day.

“Never were truer words spoken,” the Maximata replies, taking her hand with a ferocity that overextends her elbow and nearly takes poor Defi down. “We’re only going to have a tenth hour to run through the fine points for the ceremony.”

“I know them,” Lionna answers softly, “it isn’t my first court season.”

At the gates one porter ushers them in; another takes up the train of Lionna’s robe and points Definite to a doorway on the side. They have a single instant to exchange invisible glances as she gives her tiny hand-to-shoulder bow and disappears. “Learned by sight is not learned by core,” the Maximata rebukes as they pass the threshold. “Oh,” she adds, as if she’s just noticed the color of the sleeve she’s holding, “sorry about your parents.”

The tenth hour of preparation feels to Lionna like something she might hallucinate, if she ever gets as far as hallucinations. Seemingly cradled in a dozen glittering gold arms at once, she is kissed from bended knee like a shrine statue, drilled in verses like a child before a school exam, and prepared for the empress’s scouring purity like a traitor on death row.

“Pray, first, for alignment in the orbits. Maximata Teleonara withered in a year after she became a lady-in-waiting and the lower lumini here say it’s all because she was unworthy in our most exalted lady’s presence.”

“Sounds like the worthy have nothing to fear, then.”

“Don’t be proud, it’s best to be on the safe side. We’re all of us subject to decay in this world. There might be some little thing you’ve forgotten.”

Lionna flashes her practiced cheeky smile--voidside warmth and Jenya sparkle--and says what it will let her get away with. “And what does your all-knowing chambermaid claim Teleonara was up to, senneta?”

“Oh, she--” The goldlighted Maximata refuses to corrupt her junior’s innocence for exactly a second before she lowers her voice. “You know. She had been a bit too affectionate with a certain clone.”

She doesn’t have time to decide if that, too, is an examination: others are offering condolences as more than an afterthought, bringing up family history in appreciative tones. All avoid the subject of the house signet she is to receive, which has been quietly re-cast--its ancient counterpart presumably floats somewhere far away, drifting as the void-currents bid--whether or not it remains on a Sola scionette’s finger.

As Caliopa predicted, a satellite’s satellite--handmaid to a lady-in-waiting, she’s pretty sure--comes curtsying in and announces that the empress has requested both of their presence well before Lionna feels ready. She kneels and puts her new gloves on, as suggested, in a kind of consecrated vestibule opposite the door to the great chambers. The threats aren’t quite enough to move her to pray for her own purification--the empress, after all, can’t be anything but a very old lady behind a screen, and on the brink of doing what she most dreads, Lionna finds it hard to be afraid of her. Instead she says Ella’s forbidden prayers, for the dead, for the seafaring. She asks for Avia, who certainly strove for wisdom in a way she never could, to find herself reborn somewhere just a bit less meticulously humble--somewhere she could relax a bit. She asks for her sennamiae to tarry somewhere close, where maybe somehow they can tell her what to do. And she asks, though she suspects it’s going too far in spirit if not in letter, that she never use the power she is about to receive to harm a lesser being, even by accident, even without knowing. 

Past the high polished doors and curtains of onyx beads that announce the boundaries between mundane and royal, the unnatural hush and cleanliness of the city is total. Guards and gold-trailing courtiers--favorites of the dynasty, elevated to proximal splendor--seem to float over their reflections in the floor, engaged in brief meetings of shoulders and hands that, while no sound or light is exchanged in their courses, manage to look significant. If it weren’t for the clear aisle laid across the floor, which they avoid, and the grand principa with a representative of the praeceptorate on her arm at the end of it, it might seem she has no particular role in this scene at all.

The empress is perfectly invisible. The enormous screen at the back of the room, with its Syfrae glyphs and sun lilies, stands for her, like brass circles for the goddesses in an Aivuran temple. Her presence presumably affords the hush, the courtiers, the guards, the officials, and all the other bits--but otherwise it casts no radiance. She cannot even see her light. 

It’s a relief, though she imagines for some it’s a disappointment. Where the aisle dead ends she sinks to her knees, pressing her folded hands to the floor the way she watched her wife do many times before her various relatives. This is how it feels, she thinks for an instant, and then immediately takes it back. A person’s place is more than a gesture, more than its trappings and symbols--more than its glyphs and sun lilies, more than its courtiers and guards.

Isn’t it?

The grand principa extends her hand; Lionna takes it, at light-level, between both her own. With the aula’s protocols of silence and obscurity at their deepest, homage is given wordlessly and taken with a nod. She closes her eyes and feels the principa’s other hand cross over to slide the signet ring over her thumb. She feels the covered stinger at her wrist catch, just briefly, on her sleeve as she straightens it. With a second nod the posture is dismissed. At last she raises--partly--the dense red lace that covers her face.

The little rhombus of lacquer takes only an instant to apply, from a tiny brush in the praeceptor’s hand, over top of her old First Daughter fiddlehead. She hasn’t been expecting to be regenerated atom by atom, but it’s certainly faster, softer, and less of a shift than she’s assumed. Becoming a Marchiesa, it turns out, feels exactly like coming of age, finishing school, and getting married: like absolutely nothing.

Suddenly she wants to scream. To break the silence irreparably, into a million shards. It isn’t that she didn’t walk in disenchanted, but the layers of forced profundity feel, now, personally insulting. How dare they set this, any of it, her, apart, when everything was so sickeningly random, when anyone wearing any ring could die. 

She places her hands and bows, a second time, in gratitude. She rises slowly, she takes even steps; eyes fixed forward on the shrine at the end of the hall. When she reaches it she stops, feeling the stares hit her shoulders one by one, and stays frozen until the doors are closed.

And still without a word, she runs.

It seems as if nobody stands in her way, but somebody must have noted her flight, because Definite waits at the door for her. She pulls her behind with a toss of her head--their familiar way, touching without touching--and clears the steps before anyone can breathe a word of congratulation to her. She is too fast for the valets; she finds her little ship in the long line by the violets twining up the nose. Before the lacquer is dry, they are together with their ragged breathing, shrieking over the rings in the voidward direction of home.

[rcsefleur-blog]

hi all !! this is an introduction to my freshest muse and newest baby yeo eunchan otherwise and more commonly known as ‘chan’, he’s a sweetheart but of course because its me and i can’t resist giving my muses slight torture, he’s a tormented sweetheart. if you look at his pinterest here you’ll get an idea of his style better since that’s pretty essential to him as a muse in this case hshd. below the cut you can find out a bit more about him and if you hit the like, i’ll be sure to throw him at you for plots !! lets get into it: 

BACKSTORY: 

chan’s childhood wasn’t particularly dark or strained. he is by far the least tragic out of all my muses. but for me, that’s still pretty tragic by mosts standards. growing up he always had a very supportive father in regard to his homosexuality and androgynous qualities. he grew up in a happy home and despite not being rich he was very fortunate to have rich opportunities come his way. to be fair he’s pretty easily pleased but most of his experiences thus far have been plentiful

perhaps that is why his luck has to run out somewhere down the line, in the worst way it possibly could. his mother passed when he was young due to cancer. it was a grave and difficult time for his father as well as the rest of the family. his father crumbled eventually, in the hospital with health issues now that are so severe he’s due to pass any day and is basically in a vegetative state already. chan was left to raise his five year old sister nari and take on the responsibility. 

for this reason, he could be considered a struggling single father as he’s pushing his own dreams and goals aside to accomodate for nari and make sure she has the best upbringing which is comfortable for her, where she can see chan as a father figure as well as an older brother now, who can be relied upon and responsible. balancing the line and the roles between brother and father isn’t always easy though when the lines are constantly blurred. he has sacrificed most of himself and his youth to keep nari happy and healthy and mostly untouched by the death of their parents. 

this hasn’t been easy though, it’s left chan isolated and with no one to speak to but the five year old girl a lot of his feelings get locked in a box and left unexplored, he cannot have a moment of hesitation or weakness because then that will affect nari. his mourning process and grieving has been put on a backline, and he only really allows himself to break down in quiet moments without nari. such as when walking through the forest to be with nature, visiting their graves or on the edge of his bed having a good cry when nari is fast asleep due to the feeling of living in the empty space where his parents used to fill it all up. 

PERSONALITY: 

chan is a makeup artist, he does it professionally for models and artists all throughout the industry but he also does it for fun, becoming pretty popular as a person who gives tutorials on youtube and instagram as an ‘influencer’ but he really hates that label and prefers to simply think of himself as an artist. he also does the bit of fashion blogging and photography on the side. 

he considers himself an adventurer and for that reason he also travels a lot, usually while he is there he’ll study as he does photography for a course as well as a part time student and his main interest is in ancient architecture and art. most of the time he’ll roadtrip in his styled up vintage pick up but occasionally its flights to more beachy area’s, his two favorite places are greece and italy and he spends most of his time in those places if he can.

chan has a very vintage sense of style and he enjoys doing most things the traditional and old school way. although he does add a modern mindset to a lot of it. aesthetically style wise envision chan as fingers full of plenty of rings, ankle bracelets and arm cuffs with loose puffy sleeved shirts and ripped up mom jeans or high waisted ones. he cycles mostly everywhere on his vintage style bike. 

very much a gentle soul, little bit of a nerd and activist in the sense he wants to save the earth. he can be really intense about learning about nature and how to preserve it. he has always felt the most in touch with the natural world compared to the hum and chaos of the modern world and city life. he’s no saint of course and he’s still a sucker for coffee but other than that he likes to think he does his best. 

paints and draws very amazingly likewise, he prefers to draw flowers and people the most but he’ll work with whatever he’s got on hand. usually you can only catch him whipping out a sketchbook if he’s feeling stressed or overwhelmed as a form of escapism and quiet time. 

he is a little bit of a quixotic type so sue him, like one of the ‘have you ever fallen in love’ 'five times a day’ types but it’s not obsessive, it’s more of an admiration he considers all people beautiful and worthy of love in their own way and would state most of them are art to him. you could be the worst person and he’d be all ’ you dont have all the facts’ 'which are?’ 'i love them’.

although he doesn’t identify as genderfluid, he has a very genderfluid and androgynous sense of fashion and often wears clothing and makeup typically labelled as being more feminine. he likes a soft and classy look that usually consists of a good lip tint or ultra glossy lip and a natural but glittery smokey eye look. think kinda like the instagram influencer ivanbaaaaah for reference. 

MISC: 

growing up chan struggled with religion a lot, he and his family are very religious but his sexuality caused some issues. his father had always been supportive but his mother was a different story, unfortunately his memories with her aren’t the fondest. though he has a very dark history with religion, he loves to be in churches that are empty or abandoned for moments of reflection. often he wonders if he doesn’t even have god as the one consistent and reliable thing in his life, then what the hell does he have. he feels even now sometimes that he’s letting god and his mother down for the way he is but there is less shame now than what he suffered when younger. 

everything in his life basically revolves around nari, she goes most places with him and any task he’ll find a way to make fun for her, he doesn’t spoil her but he also doesn’t ever leave her to go without even if that is at his expense to do so. they love to bake together and he does that pretty often. 

has a part time job as a barista on night shifts and also in a patisserie. he works from home on his influencer content again to accommodate for nari and he also takes his course in photography and media online to best suit nari so he doesn’t have to leave her with a babysitter too often as he believes that’s no childhood and him just being lazy in his duty towards her as her parental figure at this pivotal time in her life. 

he’s putting off most of his dreams and aspirations right now for until nari is older, he could’ve been much more famous as an influencer but he chose not to be and put those opportunities to broaden his career on hold for a while because having a famous sibling in her life wasn’t the kind of overwhelming attention and pressure nari needed to be surrounded with right now. 

he honestly just wants to make sure nari grows up feeling safe, comfortable and happy as well as confident in herself and chan. she’s his primary responsibility and he considers himself her closest bet to a father now so he wants her to feel she has that bond with him as well as the bond of him being her brother. 

PLOT BUNNIES: 

a babysitter plot would be great, someone who he can rely on and uses often to leave nari with when he has no other choice and particularly on nights when he has to work. ideally it would be someone nari felt very close to and idolized so he knew they had an amazing relationship and she’d be happy and relaxed when he was gone. he’s very over protective of her so he’d also have to feel pretty close to the person. it could go any way really, it could be a pining thing, a best friend thing, whatever honestly. 

this boy definitely needs a confidant so throw that at me any day. 

friends who can help him reconnect with religion and spirituality in different ways so he knows there’s always a way for him to feel tied to god somehow and a god who loves him and best suits his needs somewhere even if it isn’t necessarily in the religion he grew up with. 

work buddies at the cafe he works in or patisserie would be amazing too. 

maybe a tutor/study buddy kinda person he met online through doing his course of media and photography to make sure he was making up for the classes he was missing out on by not being able to attend day lectures in college. 

just people with the similar hobby of photography would also be awesome or models even that he can do a couple of freelance jobs for on the side when they need him. 

muses for him to draw they’d be very special people indeed bc chan will rarely whip his sketchbook out in front of anyone let alone ask to draw them. 

more single parent muses would also be awesome eventually or older siblings who kind of take on that role half the time so have some idea of what its like who he could meet through taking nari to things like nursery, etc. 

neighbor bc who doesn’t love a good single dad and his neighbor plot  who’s all like woah that guy is super young and he has a kid but im also sure there’s no woman on the scene and wow they’re noisy and its kinda infuriating but its also cute as hell cause he’s a hella good dad and in the mornings i can hear them baking and doing food fights or playing together and i often see them messing about coming back from grocery shopping etc and actually its kinda touching?? 

gay pals cause we love gay pals as well as ur everyday pals we love a platonic bond between fellow gays. 

love interests of any kind rlly, pining situations, crushing, flings, ex’s ( they’d have had to have ended on good terms tho bc chan just can’t hate anyone ), first times e.g. sexually, boyfriend, kiss u get the idea 

[mickjustmademylist]

Are u ok?

like? kinda? basically i’ve had mono for the past 3 weeks the doctors just decided to test me for it so they had been giving me antibiotics for something that i didn’t have which was just making me sicker and i’m not allowed to travel which means the flight im supposed to b on at 9:13am tomorrow is canceled so i can’t go home to see my mom and brother(aka the family who loves me) so i’m stuck alone in the house with my borderline emotional abusive father who makes me very much want to relapse and bc i have mono which is untreated i can’t work for the foreseeable future, meaning i’m flat broke. on top of that they don’t do surgery on sick people which means my throat surgery will likely be pushed back even further, possibly affecting my school year. so like it’s the perfect storm and it all came crashing at once and i realized just how much i am not cut out for this life

[lazyfox411]

Not You, Not Me, but Us.

So I wanted to whump keith but then it turned into this whole long angsty established klance 14k+ fic that I spent months working on....yeah...somebody be proud of me lol its the longest thing ive ever written and I'm finally done!!!! thanks to @hastalalaterkeith7152​ and @chasethethace223​ for sticking with me throughout this mess XD

a slightly more coherent summary: while Lance is away on a business trip, Keith unwittingly shares a kiss with someone else. Lance doesn't take to this kindly, and throws Keith out in the cold. Unfortunately for Keith, bad people roam the streets at night.

warnings I guess for violence and injury even though I'm bad at writing fight scenes ahaha and alcohol use I guess, also a kiss and interactions that could be considered non-con, basically just use your own discretion my lovelies <3 id love to answer any questions you guys might have about this story

length is 14467ish words 

“Come on, Keith, don't give me that look,” Lance pleaded, doing his best to avoid his boyfriend’s puppy dog eyes.

“But I'm going to miss you.”

“And I’ll miss you, too. But I’ll be back before you know it. You won’t even realize I'm gone.”

“Are you sure about that?” Keith asked, hefting Lance’s suitcase from the trunk of the car. “It feels like you packed everything but the kitchen sink. Just how long are you planning on staying?” he teased.

“I won’t be able to go anywhere at all if I miss my flight. Hurry up, I still need to get my luggage checked.” Lance pulled his scarf tight against the sharp January wind, and scurried towards the entrance, Keith just steps behind him.

Keith tried not to be clingy. He really did. But Lance was one of the few people in his life who hadn't left him, and Keith hated saying goodbye, even if it was only for a few days while Lance travelled for work.

“You need to let go of my hand now,” Lance informed him, chuckling.

Keith let go, then promptly pulled Lance in for a tight hug. “I love you.”

“I love you too, angel,” Lance murmured. “Just a couple of days, okay? It’ll be fine.”

Keith nodded. “Have a good trip. And be safe,” he called after Lance had shouldered his carry-on and strided to the gate.

He and Lance didn't live together, though they had been talking about it for some time now, but they spent almost all of their free time together at one of their apartments. When Keith parked the car- Lance’s car, that Lance had lent him while he was away- and entered his apartment, he found it dark and completely devoid of life. A thin sheen of dust covered the furniture, and this time Lance wasn't here to scold him for neglecting to clean it. Keith didn't need to counter with the excuse he had no time to clean, he was always working or spending time with Lance. He flopped onto the couch and closed his eyes. Maybe he could catch up on some sleep. Work wasn't just an excuse, it was the truth. He’d had night shifts at the pharmacy for the past week.

The next morning, he crossed off Monday on the calendar, and put a little star on Friday, the day Lance would return. Then he sighed, and got ready for work. At least he didn't have night shifts this week. And he had something to look forward to at the end.

By the time Friday evening rolled around, Keith was exhausted. All he’d done was work; he hadn't declined any extra hours since he had nothing else to do. He was more than content now to let his body meld to the couch, lungs huffing out a relaxing breath. Only three hours until he had to pick up Lance at the airport. They’d texted a little bit, but Lance was busy with meetings most of the day and Keith had work, and the difference in time zones made the whole thing a jumbled mess. It would be good to talk to Lance for real, face to face.

The sound of a notification from his phone woke Keith from a peaceful nap. He searched for Lance’s name in anticipation, but it was a text from Shiro.

Shiro> Party tonight. Just a couple university friends. Want to come? I can give u a ride

Keith> Can’t. I need to pick up Lance in an hour

Shiro> Bring him with u

Keith> He’ll probably just want to rest

Shiro> Ok then bring him home and then I’ll pick u up

Keith frowned. Something was up. Shiro was never this pushy.

Keith> I wouldn't want to go without Lance

Shiro> Hang on I'm going to call you

“Great,” Keith muttered. He picked up on the first ring.

“I’m sure Lance wouldn't mind if you came without him,” Shiro said immediately. “You deserve a break. You’ve been working all week.”

Keith sighed. “Why do you want me to come so bad?”

Shiro paused before saying, “Allura is going to be there.”

“Of course,” Keith groaned, “and you want me to keep you from making a fool of yourself.”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Yeah, no,” Keith replied bluntly. “I need to pick up Lance, and I am not going to a party without him. Find somebody else to put on Shiro-the-Love-Struck-Blubbering-Idiot duty.”

“Come on, Keith, you’re like my wingman. Plus I have nobody else.”

“What about Hunk?”

“Busy.”

“Pidge?”

“Also busy.”

“Well, I'm busy, too,” Keith said in frustration. “Allura is just going to have to love you for the hopeless romantic that you are.”

“Thanks a lot,” Shiro said sarcastically.

“Anytime,” Keith replied, matching his tone perfectly. The call ended.

He was just about to leave for the airport when he got another text.

Lance> Hey babe. Flight got cancelled bc of the weather. I was really hoping to see you tonight :( but the next flight out isn't until tomorrow

Keith sank back into the couch and dared a peek out the window, where a few shimmering white flakes were gliding from the sky.

Keith> Ok no problem. Just text me when you need to be picked up

He sent the message and pouted at his phone. One more night. He could wait one more night. Couldn't he?

Keith> I miss you

Lance replied with a collection of carefully selected emojis, and Keith sighed. There was a tight, cold feeling worming its way into his chest. Maybe he should get a cat, a goldfish, something to cure the loneliness bubbling inside him. After a full week of keeping to himself, waiting for Lance, only to have his arrival put off by another painstaking day...Keith was sick and tired of being alone. It was that thought that made him open Shiro’s contact.

Keith> Change of plans. Come pick me up whenever

The house was enormous, set on a lake, the driveway a mile long and revealing through the trees a colorfully lit balcony that overlooked the glistening water. The air outside freezing, filled with the muffled sounds of loud music, but upon stepping over the threshold, Keith was hit with a blast of noise and heat that was generated by people pressed together, laughing and dancing and drinking.

“I thought you said only a few people.” Keith had to yell to be heard over all the music and voices.

Shiro just grinned and shrugged apologetically. He had lied.

Of course. Ever since enrolling for med school, Shiro seemed to have changed, dragging Keith to parties and outings, only to have Keith play third wheel for him and Allura, whom Shiro had been head over heels for ever since discovering she lived on campus nearby him.

Shiro was immediately pulled from Keith’s side by a boisterous group of partiers, leaving Keith to be jostled mercilessly through the crowd. People bumped his elbows, brushed against his shoulders, and breathed their smelly alcohol breath in his face. He couldn't see where he was going, the room was dark one second then alive with neon lights the next. The music blared, bass rattling through his bones and piercing his eardrums, warping the room around him into a colorfully numb, tripped out alternate reality. It was too much. All he wanted was to relax, not get stuck in the middle of this, heart pounding and chest tightening. He had to get out.

He had to get out he had to get out he had to get out.

Keith shoved his way to the edge of the room, away from the lights, away from the people. He pressed himself flat to the wall, wishing wildly for Lance. Lance knew huge social gatherings made him anxious, Lance knew he hated to be surrounded like this. If Lance was here, he’d gently take Keith by the hand, lead him away, somewhere quiet, somewhere safe, and sit with him until he could calm down. But Lance wasn’t here. Even Shiro was nowhere to be seen.

People were starting to look at him weird. Keith did his best to smile politely, and ducked away from the confused and somewhat disgusted faces, finding himself stuck behind yet another wall of people.

“Excuse me,” he squeaked, pressing through. And then he spotted it. A doorway. An escape.

It was slightly ajar, and whatever was behind was shrouded in darkness, but anywhere was better than where he was now, Keith figured. He pushed into the door, which delivered him into a narrow hallway. The air here was less stuffy, still stale, but contrasted by the cold, fresh breeze streaming in through an open window. Keith leaned his face on the cool glass, breath fogging as he gulped the night air like a drug, like it was his lifeblood. The music and voices were still loud, but not so glaring, separated by the door Keith slammed shut. Slowly, his heart rate decreased to something more acceptable.

While one problem had been solved, it was quickly becoming apparent that another had been created. Keith was essentially trapped; there was no way he was going back the way he’d come. People were screaming and now something glass was shattering. He looked around for another exit. The window was out of the question, it was way too high off the ground to make a safe jump. There was a door to his left, but upon turning the handle he found it locked. He heard a toilet flush from inside and decided he didn't want to go in there anyway. That left the stairs at the end of the hallway.

The damp, musty smell of basement got stronger with every step. Keith nearly tripped down the stairs when he heard a series of hair-raising, ungodly cries coming from what could only be a bedroom somewhere.

When he dropped off the staircase he was enveloped by a large room, stained white carpet underneath him and ductwork protruding from the low ceiling above. His shadow danced around the faded wallpaper, cast by the dim glow of a lamp that sat amongst the scattered furniture.

It was quiet here, or quieter. The commotion upstairs had faded to background noise, replaced by an old Pink Floyd album playing from a CD player. Keith grabbed a seat on a sinking, tattered old sofa, sparing a quick look around. The room was vacant, save himself and a couple seated on a couch against the far wall, making out. They didn't even stop to glance at him, and Keith sighed with relief. Maybe he could hide out here until things died down, then just head home. He had no idea what he’d been thinking. Coming to a party, when even he himself knew he was a loner.

He was a loner, but he didn't want to be alone. If only Lance were here.

“Mind if I join you?”

The voice clawed at Keith’s already shredded nerves and he let out a sharp gasp. He jerked his head around to see who it belonged to, and found himself looking into the jarring blue eyes of a stranger. He smiled at Keith, revealing a set of dazzling teeth.

“Uh, sure,” Keith said. He really wasn't in the mood for company.

The boy sat next to him, a little closer than Keith would have preferred, but he didn't say anything. This boy, or young man, Keith deduced to be about his age, maybe a little older, smelled like mint.

“Hey, are you okay?” There was that stupid display of teeth again.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” Keith said quickly. “Just, um, parties aren't really my thing. Especially not this one.”

“Huh. I guess I'm a pretty bad host, then, aren't I?”

Keith felt his face go beet red. “You...host? This is...your?” He stammered, eyes going wide.

“Haha,” the guy laughed good-naturedly, “no worries, gorgeous. You didn't hurt my feelings. But hey, look at me, still being a terrible host. Can I get you anything? A drink?”

“Yeah, okay,” Keith said. Maybe that was just what he needed. His nerves were about to jump off a ledge, and this guy wasn’t helping, with his unnaturally perfect teeth and pointed chin and shoulder slapping and long blonde hair, so blonde it was almost white.

The guy, Keith still hadn't caught his name, vanished gracefully up the stairs. Keith searched for an exit again, coming up empty-handed. Well, he supposed, being stuck with one person is a lot better than being stuck with a hundred.

He returned surprisingly quickly, carrying two glasses and an assortment of bottles. He poured them each a drink and handed one to Keith, who hesitantly sniffed the sweet-scented liquid and then took a drink. He had expected the alcohol to rake down his throat, but instead it slid down easily and settled in his belly, almost immediately kindling a slow burn.

“So, what do you do?”

“Huh?” Keith shook himself from his thoughts.

“You know, for work. Like a job.”

“Oh, right. I work at the pharmacy, in town. Mostly stocking shelves.” The flush that had finally begun to recede from Keith’s cheeks was returning. He hoped it sounded like a boring job. If he was boring enough, maybe he would be left alone.

“Neat.”

No, Keith thought, not neat. I’m boring. Go back to your party, dude, you’re creeping me out. It was true, this guy, Keith still had no idea who he was, was even closer than before.

“You really don't want to be here, I can tell.”

Keith blanched. “What? No, no, it’s not that, I uh...”

“It’s okay. I get it. You've probably got way cooler things to do with your Friday night.”

Keith couldn't help but scoff out a laugh at that. “Are you kidding? The only reason I’m here is because Shiro practically dragged me. Do you know Shiro?” Keith asked, just in case. He should know who Shiro was, Shiro had said the owner of the house was his friend, hadn't he?

“Of course,” the blond-haired boy rolled his eyes. “Everybody knows Shiro. How long have you known him, though? I haven't seen you around campus.”

“No,” Keith cleared his throat, “I don't go to the university. Shiro and I have known each other our whole lives, pretty much.”

“Your name is Keith, isn't it? I think Shiro’s talked about you before.”

“Yeah, that's me.” Keith smiled a little bit. Somebody actually knew who he was. He wasn't some loser who was only here to be a third wheel.

“He asked you to come because of Allura, didn't he?”

“He did,” Keith laughed softly, “how’d you know?”

“You’re not the only one he drags places. And I gotta say, Allura is a nice girl. Not my type, though. I’ve...got my eye on somebody else now.” He flashed his sparkling teeth again.

Keith felt his ears go red for some reason, and he looked down at his lap. He was surprised to find that he was holding an empty glass. When had that happened? Had it happened more than once tonight? He couldn't recall. They’d been talking for a while.

“I can get you another one,” the guy piped up. Keith made a point to find out his name soon.

Something deep inside him told him that maybe this was a bad idea. Something was off. But he felt warm inside. He wasn't anxious anymore. He felt okay.

“Sure, I’ll have another.”

When he had replenished their glasses, Keith decided to ask, “Hey, what’s your nam-”

“Can I ask you something?” He was cut short.

“Okay.”

“Do you think,” the guy set his arm on the back of the sofa, strangely close to Keith’s shoulders, “that some people, even though they don't know each other that well, are just...really good together?”

Keith sat quietly, sipping his drink. He was confused. What was this guy talking about?

“You mean like Shiro and Allura?” Keith asked.

There were the teeth again, paired with a somewhat exasperated chuckle. “I guess, but I was thinking of someone else, someone...closer...” he trailed off, eyes rising and settling on Keith’s. It was unnerving. Like a tiger locking onto its prey.

Suddenly there were fingertips resting on his cheek, burning into his skin. Keith froze, eyes wide as an owl’s. The fire inside of him flickered, then was doused to smoke. The guy was leaning in. He was leaning in and he was kissing him.

Keith couldn't move. He was stuck, time had stopped, he was trapped and he was kissing someone. Someone who wasn’t Lance. Why didn’t he stop? Why wouldn't he move? His limbs didn't want to cooperate, his head was filled with white noise, he was frozen in shock, he couldn’t even breathe. He couldn’t get free. Why was this lasting so long, why couldn’t he make it stop?

When their lips finally broke apart, Keith was still petrified. He couldn't figure out what had happened or why. What had just occurred? What had brought it on?

The fingertips were coming at him again, probing his face, searching for another kiss.

“No,” Keith forced the word out of his mouth. “No, I...I can’t. I have a boyfriend. I have…” He had to get out. He had been wrong. One person was way, way worse than a hundred.

Keith stood up, fighting against the room as it spun around him. Whatever he’d been drinking was catching up to him. He needed out. Stairs. The stairs would get him out.

He darted up the stairs, feet catching and sending him sprawling. He shakily rose and continued the climb. He didn’t look back. He didn’t want to.

Upstairs, the crowd had thinned to a more tolerable throng. Maybe it was late, or early into the next morning, Keith couldn’t tell. Time wasn’t exactly working for him right now.

“Shiro!” he cried, spotting his friend’s undercut and broad shoulders.

“Heeeey, Keifth,” Shiro dragged out the words, and his pronunciation was more than a little off. Great.

There was a girl latched into Shiro's arm, and she appeared to be the only thing keeping him from toppling flat on his face. Judging by her undeniably beautiful dark skin and silvery hair, this was probably the Allura that Shiro never shut up about. So he had managed to woo her without Keith’s help after all.

“I don’t fthink really I can drive, man,” Shiro slurred, “I’m have to thpend the night here.”

“Yes,” Allura chimed, “I really don’t think he’s in any state to be behind the wheel. Will you be able to get home, Keith? That is your name, right?”

“Yeah,” Keith said. He honestly wasn’t sure which question he was answering. Damn Shiro, standing there with rosy cheeks and glassy eyes, stupid grin plastered on his face. Making him come here, only to ditch him and get hammered and leave him stranded without a ride home.

“Goodnight, Shiro,” Keith muttered. “Nice to meet you, Allura.” He turned on his heel, and didn’t even care if anyone stared when he slammed the door on his way out.

His first thought was to call Lance. Lance could come pick him up. But no, no he couldn’t because he was away, and if Keith called him then he’d know he was at this party and maybe would figure out what had happened, that Keith had kissed somebody, somebody he definitely should not have.

A cab was his next option. He quickly found a number on his phone and punched it in, then sat down on the front step to wait. He'd rather freeze to death out here than go back in that house ever again. Though surprisingly, he didn’t feel all that cold. He was shivering, but he wasn’t cold. It was a strange feeling.

Keith woke the next morning nursing a slight headache. He cracked his eyes open blearily and found he was draped unceremoniously on the couch, jacket and shoes still on. He forced himself to the bathroom and splashed some cold water over his face, and as he reached into the medicine cabinet for aspirin, last night’s events came flooding back to him.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror. He looked dirty. He felt dirty. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cool glass of the mirror, but now all he could see were those horribly perfect teeth. What the hell had he done? What the hell had he done? What was he going to tell Lance? Keith groaned. He didn’t want to deal with this right now. He didn’t want to deal with this at all. Sleep beckoned him, and he yearned to go, to fall asleep and forget this entire week had ever happened. The shrill buzz of his text alert made him wince.

Lance> Good news!!! Planes are flying today!!! My flight should arrive around 2pm, do u think u can pick me up?

Keith> Yeah ill be there

Lance> Can’t wait to see you!!!<3

Keith let out a sound somewhere between a whine and a growl, shuffling back to the couch. He wanted to just crawl in bed, but he knew if he did that there was a good chance he would never get up. What was he going to do? He couldn’t tell Lance. Could he? Lance would flip. Or would he? Lance seemed to freak out over trivial matters, but when things got serious so was Lance.

Keith didn’t know what to do. He was tired and confused and achy, and through his muddled thoughts he wondered if maybe he was making too big a deal of this. After all, he hadn’t been the one doing the kissing. He’d been kissed, yes, but he hadn’t started it, he hadn’t condoned it, he hadn’t asked for it. Surely, Lance would understand that. Wouldn’t he?

Waiting in the airport terminal, Keith felt sick. His hands were clammy and wouldn’t stop shaking, he was cold and queasy, sweating through his jacket but shivering as nerves churned in his stomach. He still hadn’t decided what he was going to say to Lance.

“Keith!” Lance's smile, though bittersweet to Keith, brought a sense of warmth and comfort. Lance jogged from the gate, dodging cranky travelers and luggage carts, and let his own luggage fall to the ground so he could wrap Keith in his arms and swing him around. The room was spinning when Lance set him down. He must have paled, because Lance seemed to notice something was off. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith replied quickly. He snuggled into Lance's embrace, breathing in his familiar scent. Not mint. Better than mint; he smelled like Lance.

“You sure? You don’t look so good,” Lance murmured, pressing a hand to Keith's forehead to check for a fever that was non-existent.

“I just missed you.”

“I missed you, too. So much. And I’m so glad I'm back, because the whole time I was gone there was nothing more I wanted to see in the world than your face.” Lance smiled sheepishly when Keith didn’t respond. “Sorry. Too sappy?”

Keith shook his head. “Lance, I… I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?” Lance asked gently. He was still smiling, encouragingly, sweetly. Keith ran his gaze over Lance's beautiful, perfect teeth, the teeth he loved to see, the teeth that would never be pushy, or creepy, that would always care about him. He stared into the sea of Lance's eyes, getting utterly lost as waves rocked the pathetic little raft he was floating on. Waves of love, unconditional, undying love, they were drowning him. But it was so warm. So safe. Not like the warmth he'd felt last night, no, this felt good, this felt right, not forced, not rushed. Lance loved him. Nobody else loved him, not like Lance did. Nobody else had ever really loved him.

What if, after what had happened, Lance didn’t want to love him anymore? Keith didn’t think he could handle that. He couldn’t take the chance. He couldn’t lose the best thing he'd ever had.

“What is it?” Lance repeated, frowning as he watched Keith space out right before his eyes.

“Smile again? Please?”

“Uh, sure,” Lance chuckled, parting his lips awkwardly. Keith was sure. Those were truly the most gorgeous teeth he'd ever seen.

“You have really nice teeth,” Keith said.

Lance smiled wider. “Thanks. Now, I don’t know about you, but I am totally ready to go home.”

Keith nodded. Lance picked up his bags and put an arm around Keith's shoulders as they started walking. “Do you want to hang out at my place?” he asked.

Keith gulped. That didn’t sound like a good idea right now. “I’m…kinda tired. It’s been a long week.”

“No kidding,” Lance huffed dramatically. “That’s no problem though, I have some notes to go over anyway. Stupid business presentations…” he then launched into a detailed recap of his trip. Keith listened without really hearing, leaning into Lance's warmth, knowing full well he didn’t deserve to. He didn’t deserve Lance's affection. He didn’t deserve Lance.

Guilt. It had settled in Keith's stomach like a ton of bricks, hard, heavy, and painful. Storms roiled in the back of his mind, rumbling feelings of doubt and shame. He told Lance everything. Everything. And in turn, Lance was open and honest with him. So why, all the times that he'd tried to say something, to call, send a text, why had his fingers frozen, his voice stopped, lungs shriveled away inside his hollow, guilty chest? It wasn’t even his fault. He hadn’t been doing the kissing. But he hadn’t pulled away either.

It was eating him up inside, stomach twisting into knots and gnawing at his ribs like a lion licking its kill clean. Keith couldn’t stand it. He tried to tell himself he'd done nothing wrong, that he wasn’t at fault, but then, surely it must be? He couldn’t bring himself to admit to Lance he'd done something wrong. Because then Lance might not want him. And that rejection would be even worse than the one he was feeling right now.

He lasted about a week. Until he was shaking because he couldn’t eat. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t function, knowing he'd done something that could hurt the person he loved most in the world, and he still hadn’t come clean about it.

Keith rolled over in bed and picked up his phone to check the time. 2:36 am. Sleep wouldn’t come, he was beyond tired now, practically zombified and just roaming the streets under a barely human disguise. What would Lance do if he were me? he asked himself, like he'd done countless times before. And he knew. Lance would feel awful. He'd be disgusted with himself, just as Keith was now. But he would be honest. Keith opened his phone again.

Keith> Hey r u awake?

Lance> Barely. Whats up

Keith> Can I tell you something

Lance> You can tell me anything babe. U alright?

Keith froze for what felt like the millionth time that week. You weren’t supposed to break up over the phone. Not that that was what he wanted. No, that was the last thing he would ever want. But it was easily what might happen.

Keith> I think it needs to be in person. Can I come over

He knew full well it was late. Or, technically early. But this couldn’t wait. Not any longer.

Lance> Sure

There was only one bus that made a run at 3 in the morning, and Keith was the only one on it. He paid the driver and stumbled out onto the curb in front of Lance's apartment. If he didn’t do this soon he was going to be sick.

As soon as Lance opened the door, he knew something was wrong. Keith's eyes were red, not teary yet, but on the way.

“What’s wrong?” Lance asked immediately, leading Keith to the couch and sitting close beside him. Keith shied away.

“I…I need to tell you something, Lance,” Keith choked out, struggling to stifle the thick layer of emotion that was stuck in his throat.

Lance looked like he was almost scared, rubbing Keith's arm. “What is it, baby?”

The words came out in a rushed, stuttered mess, and once they started Keith couldn’t make them stop. “While you were-were a-away, Friday night, Sh-Shiro d-dragged me to this stupid party, and, and I told him, I told him I didn’t want to go, especially not without you, but he kept saying something about being a wingman, and I don’t know, I went, Lance. I went, and there was this guy, and he…we…kissed.”

Keith felt his heart clench when the hand on his arm stopped stroking, and Lance's face fell. There was a new expression there, one he hadn’t quite seen before. Hesitant anger, festering sadness, overwhelming confusion, all stemming from betrayal. And above all, hurt. It was a physical pain, beating throughout his entire being, to see Lance hurt. It was excruciating to know he'd caused it.

“You…what?” Lance nearly whispered.

“Lance, please, I'm sorry,” Keith pleaded, taking his boyfriend’s hand, “it was an accident, I didn’t mean for it to happen, I swear.”

“You don’t just accidentally kiss someone, Keith.” Lance's eyes were cold. His voice shook.

“It’s not my fault, Lance. He kissed me!”

“Well, did you at least try to stop him?”

“I couldn’t! I don’t know, it was like I was frozen, I couldn’t move, I didn’t know what to do! It didn’t mean anything, Lance, you have to believe me. And it’s just been eating me up inside, I had to tell you, I'm sorry.”

“So the only reason you told me was because you couldn’t deal with the guilt.” It wasn’t a question. Lance jerked his hand away, expression steeling over.

“No, that’s not what I meant, I…” Keith desperately searched for any hint of compassion in Lance's features. It was fruitless. “I'm sorry! I didn’t want any of this to happen, Lance, I didn’t! I love you! You know that!”

Lance shook his head in exasperation, staring up at the ceiling with a humorless laugh. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

“Too good…to…what? What are you talking about?”

“You,” Lance waved his hands between them, “us! This! This perfect relationship, with the perfect person. It was too good to be true, because you can’t just go around kissing random people without meaning it! That’s not how life works, Keith! What about when we kiss, does that mean anything to you?”

“Lance, of course it does! It was just a kiss, okay? What we have is real, that was just…just…” Keith felt tears sting the corners of his eyes. His throat prickled. What was this? What was he doing? He wasn’t a crier.

“I don’t want to hear it.” Lance wasn’t usually a crier either, and yet here they were.

“What do you want to hear, then? I'm sorry? I’ll say it a million times, Lance, from the bottom of my heart, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.”

“I can’t believe you! You think I'm just going to bend over backwards because you apologized? I'm not that shallow. I'm not you.”

Anger and pain flared in Keith's belly. Couldn’t Lance see how awful he felt about this? Why was it so hard to forgive? It was one stupid kiss, and this was one stupid, stupid fight…

“I'm not perfect, okay, Lance? Surprise! I have flaws. I make bad decisions and I do things I regret. But you’re not perfect either!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Lance cried indignantly.

“It means…it means,” Keith searched for the words. He could feel his lips trembling. “You're annoying! You sing too much, and you never shut up about your family, and you always spam my phone, and post too many selfies, and what about Nyma, at the office? You're constantly flirting with her!”

Lance's eyes widened, then narrowed to slits. “You really wanna go there, Keith? I can play the game, too. You work too much. You're impulsive. You never clean your apartment, and you refuse to get a haircut. And don’t even get me started on how clingy you are. God, you are clingy. And you're talking shit about my family? And accusing me of cheating, when you're the one who went and kissed somebody behind my back? I can’t believe I ever loved you!”

“Take that back,” Keith snapped. His entire body jerked with the force of the statement. He couldn’t see properly; his eyes were welled up with tears.

“I will not! It’s the truth!”

“Please, Lance,” Keith tried one more time, “I'm begging you, you have to know I didn’t intend for this to happen. Shiro dragged me there, and then we started drinking, and I don’t know, things just got out of hand.”

Lance looked like he hated Keith in that moment. Keith felt a strong, genuine urge to kiss him. He held back.

“Get out,” Lance hissed.

“But—”

“Get the hell out, Keith! I never want to see you again!”

Keith shakily rose to his feet. Lance wasn’t joking. He spared one last glance behind him, at the boy he loved, the only person he could truly be himself around, who hadn’t left him, the only person he could ever be happy with, the only one he ever wanted to be happy with. Lance glared back.

“I'm sorry,” Keith said softly, his hand on the doorknob. “I love you.” He left Lance's apartment for what might be the last time.

It was a cold, starless night. Wind whipped at his hair, and froze the tears that streaked his face. They kept flowing, steady and frigid, no matter how hard he wiped at them. Why hadn’t he brought a coat? Or some gloves, or a hat, or anything that might ease the numbness that was taking over his body. But perhaps that wasn’t entirely from the weather.

Even with the wind buffeting past his ears, Keith heard the telltale whine of heavy brakes. The bus. He was still two blocks away.

“No, no, no no no,” Keith muttered, willing his legs to move faster. He skidded around the corner, but it was too late. He stumbled after the fading tail lights of the bus, only to collapse in defeat against the hard, frosty surface of the bench that sat at the bus stop. The street was shrouded in darkness now, except for a single streetlight that hung above Keith’s head. A spotlight, saying “hey, everybody. Look at this loser.”

Keith put his head in his hands, fresh tears spilling into his palms. How had he managed to screw things up so bad? He hadn’t meant any of the things he'd said about Lance, Keith loved his singing, and his family, and he knew that Lance and Nyma were nothing more than friendly colleagues.

“Stupid,” he muttered, raking in breath, “stupid, stupid, stupid. You just had to go and mess it up, just like you always do. What did Lance ever see in you anyway?” Keith asked himself, face tipped to the sky as a dusting of precipitation—rain, snow, he couldn’t tell, he didn’t care—came falling upon him. Maybe this was for the best. Lance deserved so much better than him anyway, right? Right.

Keith shivered, wrapping trembling arms around himself in a useless effort to get warm. He would just have to walk home. He didn’t have enough money on him for a cab and there was no way was he going to sit around waiting in the cold for the next dumb bus to come.

The side streets were darker, but also faster, and so Keith ducked through alleyways and under sparsely lit streetlights towards his own apartment. He was pretty much all cried out, and what he could now tell was snow was washing away the salty mess that coated his cheeks. That didn’t stop a little hiccough from heaving out of his chest every so often. He couldn’t have stopped them if he tried.

He hadn’t gotten very far before he heard the crunch of pebbles against the sidewalk coming from behind him. A stray cat, maybe? No, these were footsteps, much heavier than a cat’s. A person. Keith quickened his pace, and the crunching behind him sped up, too. It was too dark to sneak a proper glance behind, but he was pretty sure he saw the glisten of a smile, menacing, hungry. After taking several random turns without shaking the guy, Keith was sure: someone was following him.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, clumsily scrolling through his contacts. Without thinking, he clicked on Lance.

“Pick up, pick up,” he hissed, almost jogging now, hoping to lose whoever was trailing him. Of course Lance didn’t answer. Who else was there to call? Lance was closest, and by the time he got ahold of Shiro, or anyone else for that matter, he could be dead meat.

It had just occurred to Keith that calling the police might be a good idea when it happened. He felt it more than saw it, another presence, a figure surging towards him from the depths of an alley. And before Keith could react, someone had grabbed him.

“Get offa me!” he growled, struggling against strong hands that pinned his arms behind his back.

The only response he got was laughter.

“I called the cops!”

“No, you didn’t.” Someone, a man with a deep, rasping voice, was bending over pick up his phone from the ground, where it had fallen, unlocked, from Keith's grip. Keith could almost picture the smirk on the guy’s face as he asked, “Who’s Lance?”

Up until now Keith had thought he only had two assailants; one holding him and the other holding his phone. But a third voice piped up, a snarky, weaseling tone that said, “Oh, look, you’ve got a little heart by his name. Why don’t we give lover boy a call?”

“Leave him out of this,” Keith snarled, trying to jerk his arms free. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”

“Don’t worry, we just want to have a little fun.”

A fist slammed into his gut at the word, and Keith bit back a yelp, gulping for breath. This was not his idea of fun. If he could just get free then he could fight back. He stomped on his capturer’s foot. The hands around his wrists loosened, and Keith jerked free.

He could see the dim outlines of the three men. They surrounded him, still laughing, a sound that haunted Keith from the party. It was a funny sort of laugh, like maybe they were drunk.

Still winded from having the air knocked out of him, Keith swung his arms up just in time to block another punch. He wasn’t completely helpless. He could fight. But against three angry lunatics…

His strategy was defense. Duck, block, swing, repeat. The darkness wasn’t helping. As soon as Keith felt his fist connect with something, someone else’s fist connected with him. The fresh snow was slippery underneath his feet.

He took a hit to the face that sent him reeling, the sickening metallic taste of blood flooding his mouth. He could feel it, hot and sticky, trickling from his nose, his lips, his knuckles, busted open.

Shaking away dizziness, Keith readied himself for another battering. He wasn’t prepared when two of his attackers charged him, pinning him to the wall. His spine rubbed against the jagged brick and he gasped for air as he fought their hold.

With two people holding him back, the third was free to do some serious damage. Keith couldn’t hold back the cries of pain that escaped him as fists and feet pounded him, no sign of slowing, no sign of mercy.

He wasn’t sure how far these people were going to take this. He didn’t want to find out. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t know if these people wanted to kill him, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let it happen. Using the two guys on either side of him to boost himself up, Keith aimed a kick that sent the third sprawling on the ground, crashing into nearby trash bins with a loud clash.

They were all tired. Keith could see it in their body language, the way their shoulders slouched beyond a normal fighter’s stance, the way their chests heaved. The one he'd kicked was still on the ground behind him, the other two backed into a corner in front of him.

Maybe he could win this. Maybe he could make it out of here. Maybe…

Maybe the guy behind him wasn’t as out of commission as Keith had thought. Because the next thing he knew, something had clocked him on the back of the head, and he went down, body smacking against the pavement, ears ringing, vision filling with brightly colored stars.

“Oh, shit.”

“Is he dead?”

“I don’t know, and I'm not sticking around to check. Come on.”

Keith blinked wearily as the three people took off into the night, feet pounding against the sidewalk. He lay there in the alleyway, pain throbbing through his head, seeping into his limbs, searing across his chest. Tiny snowflakes landed on his skin. It hurt too much to brush them away. It felt kind of nice anyway, cool and soothing on the bruises that were beginning to swell. But it still hurt. Keith moaned as everything melded into one swirling, nauseating haze.

“Damn it, Keith,” Lance huffed, hovering over his phone. “Just answer me.”

Keith had called roughly ten minutes after leaving, which had prompted Lance to throw his phone across the room. But after staring at the wall in silence for the better part of half an hour, Lance had gone to retrieve it and sent Keith a quick text.

Lance> Hey

It had gone unanswered, so Lance had sent another.

Lance> I'm sorry I flipped out. Can we talk?

Still no answer.

Lance> Keith?

Lance> Keith I know you're mad at me but can u please answer just so I know you're ok?

Lance> keith

Lance> KEITH

And so that had led him here, pacing the floor of his apartment. The rational part of him—the part that was still furious with Keith not just for what he'd done, but also what he'd said—knew that Keith was just upset, and was giving him the silent treatment, payback for not picking up his call. But another part of him, the part that still cared, and probably would never truly stop caring about Keith—that part was afraid. What if something had happened him? What if his bus crashed? The weather wasn’t exactly great for driving. What if he'd gotten locked out of his apartment? It had happened to Lance often enough.

Lance knew he would never be able to sleep. He knew what he'd said had really hurt Keith, but Keith had really hurt him. Kissing somebody else? Lance would never have done that. He was a naturally flirtatious person, and he was well aware of it, but ever since he'd begun dating Keith, he'd made sure to be polite and nothing more to anybody else. Keith was the love of his life, and Lance would never do anything to jeopardize that. Even now that Keith had, Lance wasn’t sure he was willing to let go.

Lance> if you don’t answer me in thirty seconds I'm coming to find u

That was it. Lance pulled his jacket on, grabbed his keys, and went out into the snow.

Keith wasn’t really aware of time passing, but when he squinted out of swollen eyes, a dull, grey daylight was just beginning to sneak its way around the edges of buildings, still too dark to make out anything but shadows. He could feel the hard ground underneath him, and a pool of wetness that had been last night’s snow. He shivered, even though the cold was starting to fade, replaced by a strange, stinging tingle.

Pain stabbed at his chest when he drew breath, and a soft, whining moan left him on the exhale. Obviously no one had heard last night’s scuffle, because here he was, body throbbing against the wet cement. The melted snow felt good on his bruised skin, but that was about the only comfort he could find. Too exhausted and hurt to move, Keith lay there and let the world spin around him, hoping that someone would find him soon.

He allowed his mind to swim in and out of consciousness, listening to the gentle flutter of pigeons, and water dripping from rooftops. He focused on that, or tried to, tried not to think, not to feel the pain that coursed through his being. It was starting to disappear now, replaced almost entirely by the tingling sensation.

Everything around him was a blurry mess when he heard the squeal of brakes and slam of a car door, as if they were far away, separated from the real world by a fuzzy tunnel of time and space.

And then Keith heard his name. Is this what death feels like, he wondered, was some angel-voiced deity calling out to him?

“Keith!” He heard it again, louder this time. He knew that voice. This wasn’t some higher power, calling him to the afterlife. No, this was his boyfriend. He needed that voice.

“Lance,” he croaked.

“Keith, oh my god, what happened? Who did this to you?”

“Lance,” Keith rasped, “m’sorry. I...didn’t mean to—” he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth as Lance touched his shoulder, and winced at the way his chest rejected the sudden intake of air.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Lance murmured, quickly pulling his hand away. “Can you tell me what hurts?”

Keith mumbled something unintelligible.

“Keith, now’s not the time to play tough guy. I need you to tell me what hurts and how bad, right now.”

“Ev’thing,” Keith slurred. “Pretty bad.”

“Can you get up? Keith? Answer me, buddy.”

Keith moaned and pressed his face further into the ground.

“That’s it, I'm calling an ambulance,” Lance said, whipping out his cell phone out of his pocket. As he dialed the three digits, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over Keith's near-lifeless frame. “Hang in there. Help is on the way.”

“He’s sleeping, but you can go in to see him if you’d like.”

“Thank you,” Lance sighed as the nurse let him into Keith's room. He eased himself into an old wooden chair next to the bed and let his hand find Keith's.

Keith lay there, fast asleep under a mound of blankets that moved with the steady rise and fall of his chest. He'd needed stitches in his lip, and in a few other cuts on his face. Lance couldn’t bear to look at the grotesque bruises that marred his soft, porcelain skin, and he busied his eyes with the cream walls of the room and pale blue curtains pulled firmly over the window. But he wasn’t able to keep his eyes off Keith for long.

He ghosted his lips over the tender skin of Keith's cheek in a delicate kiss, gently tucking a strand of loose hair behind his ear.

“I'm so sorry, angel,” Lance whispered. “This is all my fault.”

“Are you two a couple?”

Lance sat up in surprise, averting his gaze to the doctor who had just entered.

“We’re,” Lance paused. Were they still a couple? Keith had kissed someone, someone who wasn’t Lance, and Lance had told him to get out, that he never wanted to see him again. A slight part of him had meant it, but…

“We’re really close,” Lance replied. “He is gonna be okay, right?”

“Yes. I know he looks pretty rough, but with plenty of rest he’ll be just fine. You're lucky you found him when you did, temperatures dipped fairly low last night. Too much longer and he could have begun to develop hypothermia.”

Lance pressed his fingers over his lips. He couldn’t do anything other than nod. Keith could have died. He could have frozen to death, all alone, because Lance had screamed at him and made him go outside in the middle of the night, in the beginning of a storm.

“It’s my fault,” Lance said. His throat felt tight.

“What do you mean?”

“I…we fought…and I told him get lost. I made him leave, he never would’ve gotten hurt if I would’ve just calmed down and let him stay. It’s all my fault,” Lance rubbed furiously at the tears starting to trickle from his eyes, “it’s all my fault.”

“Sir, if you can't remain calm, I'm going to need to ask you to leave.” The doctor looked at him, eyes caring but voice stern.

Lance nodded. He took a deep breath. “I know. I'm sorry. I just…when I found him, lying there, he was so small and so still I thought he was dead. I could never live with myself if he was dead.” Lance shook his head.

“I trust the police were contacted about the incident?” the doctor changed the subject.

“Yeah. They filed a report and stuff, and they’re trying to find whoever assaulted him. They're going to come by and ask Keith a few questions once he's feeling better.”

“Good. Well, that’s all I have to say, other than to remind you to keep the both of you calm and comfortable. Someone on staff will be by to check on Keith in an hour. If he wakes up before then, just make sure he knows he's safe, and tell him to go back to sleep. The pain medication will most likely make him drowsy, so it shouldn’t be a problem. If you need anything, the nurses are always walking the halls. Don’t hesitate to give us a shout.”

“Thank you,” Lance said as he processed the information. “Thank you so much, Dr…I'm sorry, I missed your name.”

“Smythe,” the man said, turning on his heel and leaving the room with a wink.

Lance settled down in the old, hard chair, sneaking his hand around Keith's once again.

The first thing Keith was aware of was a sense of weightlessness. He was floating. Maybe he really was dead.

That possibility was immediately ruled out when he tried sitting up. Pain flared through his ribs and seized his brain as the world began turning much too fast. He flopped back down with a groan.

“Keith?” The voice was soft on his pounding head. Exhaustion tugged at every fiber of his being, willing him to return to the blissful darkness of sleep, but he knew that voice. He needed that voice. He did his best to speak back.

“La,” was all he managed, still fighting the swimming haze that clouded his mind.

“Yeah, baby, it’s me,” Lance cooed.

Keith blearily forced his eyes open. He blinked, and slowly took in the view around him. “Where’m I?”

“You're in the hospital, love.” Lance hovered over him, speaking like he was calming an abused puppy. His face was pinched with worry.

Keith panicked. Hospitals meant you were hurt, bad. Hospitals meant doctors and needles and stitches and anesthesia and no knowledge or control over what was going on. He had to get out.

Trapped underneath the mountain of blankets, Keith writhed to get free despite the heavy ache of every bone in his body screaming at him not to. A pair of hands pushed him firmly back onto the bed.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Lance said quickly, “you're okay, Keith. It’s okay.”

“I’m scared,” Keith whimpered. He wanted to slap himself for admitting that, but he couldn’t think straight and he had no clue what was going on and he needed Lance to understand.

“It’s alright, baby,” Lance murmured. “You're safe. I'm right here, I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Just lie still, you're safe now.”

Keith couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like Lance was crying. “M’sorry,” he mumbled.

“No, no,” Lance said softly, cupping a hand under Keith's jaw, “you don’t need to apologize right now. Just go back to sleep. Can you do that for me?”

Keith nodded slightly, his movements already weak from exhaustion. Sleep overtook him easily.

When Keith woke up next, he felt a lot less weightless and a lot more aware. He tentatively touched his fingers to his temple. His head still hurt. Everything hurt, a dull, persistent ache that settled over him and wouldn’t go away.

“Lance?” he coughed. No answer. A glance around the room told him he was alone, the lights dimmed, doors and curtains shut tight. Had Lance been here at all, or was it just a dream?

Keith sighed. Lance wasn’t here; he had no reason to be. Any relationship they had was pretty much over. Lance wanted Keith out of his life, he had made that pretty clear.

After struggling to disentangle himself from the blanket mound, Keith rose to his feet. Or, he tried to. His knees wobbled and the room spun, and he gripped the edge of the bed to keep his balance. Being upright hurt more, and he could feel what little energy he had leaking away. He was shaking after just two seconds.

Keith froze when the door clicked open to reveal Lance, of all people, sipping steaming liquid from a styrofoam cup.

Lance's eyes widened. “What do you think you're doing?”

“I…um…” Keith stared at Lance blankly, knees buckling. He had no idea what he was doing. He might have been a little more out of it than he’d like to admit.

Lance sighed and set his drink on the bedside table amongst the many other empty cups and soda cans that had accumulated there.

“Come on, let’s get you back to bed,” Lance reached out to him.

“No,” Keith snapped, pushing the hands away. He didn’t want anybody touching him, not right now, not when he was hurt and confused.

“Yes,” Lance clipped off the word. “Bed. Now.”

“I don’t need to listen to you,” Keith said, warily eyeing Lance's arms coming toward him again. He really didn’t feel well. Too much longer and he was either going to pass out or throw up.

“Yes, you do. Doctor’s orders. And if you don’t follow them right away, I'm calling him in here. So get your butt in bed, grouchypants.”

Keith sunk into the bed with a grunt, and fumbled to pull up the blankets. It hurt to move.

“Let me help,” Lance offered. He arranged the blankets and fluffed the pillow with military precision, but there was something missing, a loving-kindness that Keith had grown used to. Lance pulled his chair closer to the bed. “How’s that?”

“Good,” Keith nodded. Then he frowned. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“What do mean by that?” Lance tilted his chin back defensively.

“I'm just going to end up saying something stupid again. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I can handle myself just fine, thank you very much. And I have a right to be here, I am both your emergency contact and the one who found you knocked out and shivering in the slush.”

“Lance, what happened?”

“What happened?” Lance asked incredulously. “Why don’t you tell me? You're the one who was half dead in an alley! Broken ribs, borderline hypothermic, concussion, multiple lacerations, whatever the hell that even means—”

“No, I mean…what happened to us?”

“Oh.”

Yeah, oh, Keith thought miserably. All Lance seemed to care about was that he'd gotten beat up. Not one of his best days, sure, but all that had stemmed from the now-missing link in their relationship.

“I don’t know, Keith. I don’t know. I love you, but I don’t understand how you let that happen, kissing some stranger while I'm halfway across the country. And it’s just killing me to see you all laid up like this, when it’s my fault for making you go out in that storm, in the middle of the night—”

“Stop.” Keith groped around the top of the bed for Lance's hand and eventually settling on grabbing his wrist. “S’ not your fault. I should have been more careful.”

“Can we just not talk about it right now?” Lance asked. “You need to rest, and I…I just can't.”

“Okay,” Keith whispered. He let go of Lance's arm.

“How do you feel? Somebody is supposed to come around soon to give you another dose of pain meds.”

“Spectacular,” Keith muttered.

“This is humiliating.”

“Keith, there is nothing humiliating about a wheelchair. There are a lot of people who would be very offended by what you just said.”

“No,” Keith groaned, “not the wheelchair itself. The fact that even though I am completely capable of walking on my own, I'm being forced to sit and have you parade me around the parking lot.”

“Completely capable? Keith, you almost passed out because you sat up too fast. Besides, I think it would be fun,” Lance said innocently.

“Well, it’s not. Just hurry up and push me. I want to get out of this damn thing.”

Keith was pretty sure he fell asleep on the ride to his apartment, because the next thing he knew, he was home and Lance was easing him into bed. Whatever drugs they’d given him at the hospital must still have been taking effect, because he was too tired to protest.

“Do you want a snack?” Lance asked. “Or a drink?”

“No. I just want to sleep.”

“You’re sure you don’t want me to stay?”

“Go home, Lance. You don’t need to look after me.”

“I don’t like the idea of you here all by yourself.”

“I’ve always been by myself, Lance. I'm used to it. You're probably tired anyway.”

“You got me there,” Lance sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Thank god for crappy hospital coffee or else I’d be flat on my face right now.” He chuckled. Keith couldn’t help but feel it was forced.

With some effort, Keith managed to roll onto his side. He looked at the other side of the bed, the spot that had always belonged to Lance when he slept over. Not anymore.

“I'm not going to leave you here alone,” Lance decided, raising his hand to block Keith's protests, “but I definitely need a nap.” He eyed the same spot Keith just had, but he seemed to think better of it, for he asked, “Do you mind if I use your couch?”

“Sure,” Keith said.

“Okay. Holler if you need me.”

“Sleep well, Lance.” Keith felt his face drain as soon as he said it. You weren’t supposed to say things like that to someone who didn’t love you anymore.

Lance looked a little surprised. Then his face morphed to something more neutral. Almost bored. “You too.”

Keith spent his first waking hours moping. He was bored, and wanted to get out of bed, but he was too tired and sore to really do anything. A simple trip to the bathroom was enough to wear him out. Looking at the spread of snacks and drinks Lance had left next to his bed, he was glad he hadn’t forced Lance to leave. But at the same time, having Lance here was driving him insane.

“Keith, you have absolutely no groceries!”

“This is a crummy apartment, Lance, not a five-star hotel. What did you expect?” Keith grumbled. He had to yell for Lance to hear him from the kitchen, and it was taking energy he didn’t have.

“I wasn’t expecting a four-course meal, but come on, you have to have more than Mr. Noodles.”

“Well, I don’t.”

Lance’s head popped around the corner. He looked blankly at Keith in bed, buried in the comfort of what felt like a million blankets and pillows. “Forgive me, your highness,” he deadpanned. “I guess I'm stopping by the store on my way back from work. What are you going to do while I'm gone? I can call Shiro to come stay with you.”

“No, don’t bother Shiro. I'm fine by myself.”

“He’s a med student, I'm sure he'd like the extra practice.”

“Shiro didn’t spend thousands of dollars in tuition fees to watch me hobble around the house eating Mr. Noodles.”

Lance sighed. He sounded tired more than anything. “Alright, but call me if you need anything.”

“I’ll be fine,” Keith repeated for the thousandth time. “Just go, before you're late for work.”

Lance nodded. He looked back at Keith, sadly, as if he were an injured animal. Keith caught his eye and Lance's face hardened. And then he was gone.

Keith didn’t mind Lance complaining about his lack of groceries. What he did mind was having Lance simultaneously taking tender care of him and then hating him for his betrayal. Why was Lance going through all this trouble for him if he hated Keith now? Keith didn’t know where he stood at this point. Maybe Lance was only here out of pity. Keith probably looked pretty pathetic, laid up in bed with only microwavable pasta to eat. But Lance had insisted he stay in bed as much as possible. Keith didn’t want to upset him any more than he already had.

Maybe that was part of it. Upsetting each other. Keith thought about what he’d do if he was in Lance's shoes. Yes, he would be angry. He would be furious, and hurt, and confused. But he couldn’t think that he would ever stop caring about Lance entirely. It just wasn’t possible to not care about someone who you had once loved. Who you still loved. If Lance still loved him then maybe he had a chance. Maybe he wasn’t going to be cast out, just as he had been cast out from his family, from school, even from Shiro after his first year at university. All those times Lance had tilted Keith's chin up, told him not to worry, that he would always love him, that it didn’t matter what his family said, because Lance was his family now—those had all meant something. They still did. Lance was a part of who he was now, and nothing was going to change that, whether Lance ever forgave him or not.

Moping aside, Keith also got in some restless nap time. It was in the middle of one such session that a knock at the front door roused him.

“Hullo?” he asked groggily. “Come in.” He wondered vaguely why Lance would be knocking. Maybe it was to be formal. Formal usually meant broken up. They might really be broken up. Then it occurred to him that whoever was outside might not be Lance.

Keith bolted out of bed so fast his head spun. He crept out of his room and towards the door, wrapped loosely in a blanket. Lance wouldn’t be knocking. Who would? Were tax collectors still a thing? Keith had never seen a tax collector. Maybe it was charity. Charity was good. What wasn’t good was if Keith had been somehow tracked to this apartment. Maybe the guys in the alleyway were really out to get him. For what, Keith had no idea. But they would come in, and beat him up again, or worse, and Lance would come home to find the mess and Keith would feel awful all over again.

He was on the verge of hyperventilating and jumping into a fighting stance when the door swung open gently to show Shiro, standing on the porch. He let himself relax.

Shiro looked him over, a sheepish smile quickly giving way to a grimace. “You don’t look so good. Lance told me what happened, how are you feeling?”

“I feel fine.” Keith scowled, blankets dragging on the floor as he made his way back to the couch.

“Listen, Keith. I'm really sorry. This was all my fault.”

“No, it isn’t. You're not the one who kissed some other dude, are you?”

“What are you talking about?”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know?”

Shiro blinked. He shook his head. “I thought Lance was just angry you went without him.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Keith said. He pulled his knees to his chest. It hurt his ribs, but he felt safer this way. Shiro wouldn’t see the gaping hole where his heart used to be. No one would see how broken he was.

“Keith, you okay?” Shiro lightly brushed against his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Keith replied. His mouth felt dry. His eyes didn’t. But he wasn’t crying. Not yet.

“You know you can talk to me.”

Keith sighed. What the hell, he figured. If he didn’t tell Shiro, then Lance would.

“I…I messed up, Shiro.”

Shiro sat closer to him, nodding, encouraging. Understanding. For the first time in a long time, Keith caught a glimpse of the Shiro he knew. The Shiro he trusted.

“I'm sorry,” Keith whispered as he began to shake. This was too much. It was all too much. Why had he been so emotional lately? He hated it.

Shiro understood. Somewhere beneath the newfound frat boy attitude, his old self shone through. “Shh,” he murmured. “It’s okay, Keith. It’s okay.”

“No it’s not,” Keith drew a rattling breath, one that hurt just about every part of him. “Lance might be breaking up with me. I don’t even know for sure because he won’t talk about it. He stays here in my apartment and looks after me, but he won’t talk about us.”

“He just wants you to focus on getting better.”

“How am I supposed to get better when he's making me feel so awful?”

“Tell him that.”

“I can’t.”

“You're going to have to.”

Keith sighed. He didn’t want to think about this anymore. Not with Shiro anyway. “What are you even doing here?” he asked.

“Lance texted me to come check on you.”

“Of course he did,” Keith groaned.

“Well, since I'm here, is there anything I can get you?”

Keith miserably sunk into the couch. “No.”

“Do you want to play checkers or something? You must be bored.”

“Checkers, Shiro? I'm not five.” Keith was, indeed, bored out of his mind, but really all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. His bed seemed even more welcoming than it had before.

“Okay,” Shiro replied.

They sat in silence. Keith shifted restlessly, but each time he moved he only became more uncomfortable.

“I’m really glad you're okay,” Shiro said softly.

Keith glanced at him. “Thanks.”

“I'm sorry I’ve been acting so weird. It’s just…” Shiro huffed, and dragged a hand over his face. “I’m not doing too well in school, and I guess I’ve just been trying to distract myself. But I'm getting it together. Starting with you. I apologize.”

Keith felt his jaw part in awe. Shiro was apologizing? Keith didn’t feel worthy of anyone’s apology. Especially after he’d just told Shiro what an ass he'd been to Lance.

“I mean it,” Shiro pressed.

Keith nodded. “Thank you.”

Lance came home late. Shiro had left hours ago, and Keith was still sitting on the couch. He had picked up a sketchbook and was working away on a detailed picture of the tv remote in front of him. He couldn’t watch tv because of his concussion, so he'd settle for this.

“Hey,” Lance mumbled. He dumped his stuff on the kitchen table.

“Hey.” Keith looked over at him. He was leaned against the table, eyes shut, rubbing the back of his neck and wincing.

“Sleeping on the couch can't be too comfortable,” Keith observed.

Lance gave a sort of half-shrug, half-nod. “Certainly not what I'm used to.”

Keith bit his lip. How was he supposed to say this without it seeming like he was just trying to get on Lance's good side? “You can take the bed tonight. I’ll be fine on the couch.”

Keith was surprised to see that Lance actually looked appreciative. He was not surprised to hear the answer, “No, it’s alright.”

Lance had taken his first advance at reconciliation well, so he decided to try another. “You look like you could use a massage.” Keith grimaced at how awkwardly that had come out. But it was something Lance had often done for him, and it was calming, and Keith could feel the tension coming off of Lance in waves. Lance declined.

“Okay,” Keith said. “I'm gonna head to bed, then. Goodnight.”

Lance didn’t say goodnight back.

The alley was dark. Water dripped from the pipes that ran up the sides of the buildings. Keith looked down at his hands. They were dripping, too—with blood. He looked up. Someone was hunched in the shadows before him, just out of reach. Keith leaned forward to get a better look at the hooded figure. He took a step forward. On the next step he found he couldn’t move his feet, and they stuck uselessly to the pavement as if he were part of a statue. He tried again, but the more he struggled the more stuck he felt, until a suffocating blackness yanked him free and rushed him against a wall. He was pinned there, by enemies he couldn’t see, without hope of escape.

Slowly, in one fluid motion, the figure turned to face him. Its eyes were shrouded with darkness. The only parts of skin visible were the thing’s hands and mouth. They glistened with blood, too. Keith sucked in a breath as it advanced towards him. It paused just before him, and he felt the impending sense of doom, waiting like a roller coaster teetering at the top of a slope. The mouth parted.

Keith jolted awake, gasping for air. He couldn’t breathe, his hair clung to his body in a sheen of sweat, all he could see was a row of perfect, sparkling, pointed teeth. He shuddered, nausea creeping up his throat, seeping into his nose, he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t see he couldn’t think all he knew was there was something evil out there and it had kissed him and it was after him again and Lance was going to be mad Lance already hated him Lance was going to tell him he was stupid and mean and ignorant and uncaring and awful—Keith threw back the covers of his bed and stumbled out, bare feet hitting the ice cold floor, washed in gray moonlight. He managed two steps before crashing against a dresser and tumbling to the floor.

Keith was still shaking, he could tell as he raised a hand to dab at the mess of tears spilling down his face, wondering what the hell he was doing here on the floor. He had to get up, he had to move, had to run, those perfect shining teeth were coming to ruin his life all over again. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to get up, still couldn’t get a proper breath, couldn’t hear anything over the guttural sobbing coming from his mouth, and so he lay, skin exposed to the freezing linoleum. His fingernails found the edges of the floorboards, and he gripped as hard as he could. And he wept. He wept, because of the dream, because of Lance, because he was tired of feeling miserable and sorry for himself, and just tired in general.

The bedroom door creaked open. A pair of feet shuffled in, clad in a pair of fuzzy blue slippers. Keith squinted through the hazy mist of tears and moonlight, eyes following from the slippers, up the legs, chest, and to the face of Lance. It was stuck mid-yawn.

“Lance,” he whimpered. “Lance. Lance, the teeth. His teeth and he kissed me and I love you and I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” Keith sobbed, “I never meant to, I didn’t want to, he had teeth and he kissed me, Lance, he kissed me and I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”

Lance knelt down, tentatively resting a hand on Keith's back. “Hey,” he murmured. “Hey, Keith, hey. What’s going on? Hey, hey, look at me, you're okay. You’re okay, it’s okay.”

Keith looked fearfully into Lance's eyes. There was no anger there, only concern. “Lance,” he croaked.

“Yeah, it’s me. I'm right here. I think you had a bad dream, buddy. Is that what happened? Did you have a bad dream, Keith?”

“Y-Yeah, I- I think so.”

Lance sighed. He sounded relieved. “Let’s get you back in bed. You're okay.”

With Lance’s steady hand on his back, Keith crawled back into bed. He couldn’t make himself stop shaking.

Lance sat on the edge of the bed, eyes downcast. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Don’t go.”

“Yeah, that’s what stay means, silly.” Lance swung his legs up onto the mattress and leaned back. One arm pillowed his head, the other draped over Keith. “Try to sleep,” he murmured.

When Keith leaned into him, eyes shut tight, soaking up Lance's warmth, Lance wasn’t sure what to do. So he didn’t do anything. He held still, felt his arm rise over Keith's chest as he breathed. He soon stopped shaking under Lance's touch, and his eyelids fluttered, lashes brushing against Lance's skin as he drifted off the sleep. Lance wished he could do the same. But now he was torn, inner turmoil wreaking havoc like a tornado through his brain. He should be mad at Keith, right? Keith had betrayed him, for lack of a better word. But Keith was sorry. There was no doubt about that. And Lance knew he shouldn’t be bending over backwards because of apologies alone, and he wasn’t.

Keith needed him, that much was obvious as he clenched his jaw in his sleep and clutched fitfully at Lance's t-shirt. Lance rubbed his back, and murmured to him, and he settled. He'd never even considered the psychological effects getting jumped in an alley would have on Keith. No wonder Keith was being so high-strung and looked like he was about to lash out.

Lance felt like a horrible person. He'd made Keith go out in the dark all alone. He'd left Keith to deal with the aftermath of being attacked all alone. But was that really why he was here now? Because he felt guilty? No. He'd been assuming Keith deserved all of it. But he didn’t, not really. It hurt to see him suffer like this. That brought the question again; why was Lance here? It wasn’t pity. No. it was something deep. A connection. Love.

He still loved Keith. He would probably never stop. It was impossible to just stop caring about someone who you had invested so much time and emotion and feelings into. Even if something had changed, the feelings were still there. Feelings don’t just go away. Lance had never been one to ignore his feelings. He wrapped his other arm around the sleeping Keith and pulled him close.

Keith was still curled around him when Lance woke, his head tucked neatly into the crook of Lance's neck. His breaths were soft and even, starkly different from how Lance had found him last night. He was warm, keeping Lance from feeling the chilly edge of apartment air.

Lance would never know the reason, but he felt a hint of panic when Keith stirred. It was replaced by a softer, easy warmth in his chest when he looked at the way Keith's forehead wrinkled as he yawned, and he felt Keith's fingers curl tighter around him for a moment and then let go. His eyes flicked open lazily, and he blinked a few times, until his eyes found Lance.

A red hue crept onto Keith's face when he noticed Lance was staring at him. He realized he was wrapped around Lance like a human sushi roll, and he quickly disentangled himself.

“Sorry,” he muttered, voice still husky with sleep.

Lance didn’t reply. Instead, he said, “I have the day off today.”

“That’s nice,” Keith said.

“Yeah.” Lance decided not to mention that it was because his boss had heard about Keith's little hospital trip, and insisted that Lance take the time off until Keith was better.

“I'm hungry,” Keith said. “Did you buy groceries?”

Lance sighed, “No. I was tired so I just came back here.” He felt bad about it now, especially since Keith was finally showing some sign of an appetite since the whole ordeal.

“Oh. I guess I’ll go heat up some Mr. Noodles.”

“Hang on. Let me get dressed, and we can go out somewhere and get real breakfast. My treat.”

“Okay.”

When Lance was ready and Keith was bundled up in more layers than was probably necessary, they buckled themselves into Lance's car. Keith didn’t know where they were going, but Lance looked confident behind the wheel so he didn’t ask.

“Keith?”

Keith raised an eyebrow in Lance's direction.

“Who was it? That you—that kissed you?”

Keith bit his lip. This was a story Lance wasn’t going to enjoy hearing.

“I won’t get mad. I just want to know.”

The way he said it was sincere, so Keith told him, “I don’t really know much about him. I only met him that night, and, honestly…I didn’t even get his name.”

Lance frowned.

Keith sighed, “I was kind of freaking out, because I couldn’t find Shiro, and there were too many people, and then I ended up pretty much alone in the basement with this guy. He was kind of weirding me out at first, but he was nice, and I don’t know, we just talked. And had a couple drinks. I don’t know,” Keith repeated. He felt awful talking about it, but Lance deserved to know. “He just sort of leaned in, and…kissed me. And I didn’t know what to do. I panicked. It was like I was paralyzed. And when he pulled away, I guess I came to, I don’t know, but I told him…I told him it wasn’t right, I told him…I told him I had you. And that was all I needed. I got out of there right away.”

Lance was quiet, which was unusual for him. Keith stared down at his hands. He didn’t even look up when the car came to a stop.

“Hey. Earth to Keith. You still hungry?” Lance asked softly.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Keith mumbled. He hadn’t really been eating enough lately.

Lance waited patiently for Keith to extract himself from the car, and walked by his side through the parking lot. Keith thought about taking his hand, but then decided it probably wasn’t a good idea.

He hadn’t been paying attention to where he was when he stepped out of the car, just following Lance. Only after walking past the large yellow M above the doorway and smelling the aroma of fry grease did he realize Lance had driven them to McDonald’s. Keith couldn’t help but notice how the other people waiting in line were giving him strange looks. They were probably concerned about his face, he figured, he still looked pretty beat up. Normally he wouldn’t be bothered but today he just felt so out of place he wanted to curl up and be a hermit the rest of his life.

Lance had noticed. “Why don’t you go grab us a seat,” he suggested gently, “and I’ll order us hash browns or something.”

Keith nodded. He liked hash browns. He was glad the breakfast menu was available all day; the analogue clock on the wall said it was more like lunch.

He picked a little table in the corner, away from the people, save for a sweet-looking old couple a few seats down. Keith sat and waited for Lance, busying himself with flicking some stray crumbs off the table.

“Hey.”

Keith looked up, expecting to see Lance, but he was met with a blinding smile and a swish of long ash-blond hair.

“You,” he stammered out, “w-what are you doing here?”

A shrug. “I guess I just like the company.”

“You need to leave.” Keith's voice was low. Dangerous.

He was ignored. “Man, what happened to you? Such a pretty face, all covered in bruises.”

Keith felt a snarl crawl up his throat. “Leave. Now.”

“Aw, come on. Listen, I just want to apologize. I was drunk, and impulsive,” he got closer with each word, “and what can I say, I'm weak for something so beautiful.”

No. This was not okay. Nothing about this was anything even resembling okay.

“Get away from me. You’ve ruined my life already, so just leave me alone.” Keith saw something move out of the corner of his eye. Lance.

“Hey, babe,” Lance said with fake cheer, sensing that something was up. He sauntered over with a tray of breakfast food. “Who’s this?”

“Someone who was just leaving,” Keith growled. Lance frowned.

“Damn, you said you had a boyfriend, but you never said he was this hot.”

That was when Keith snapped. Injuries and etiquette be damned, he was going to flatten this guy. Hands balled into fists, he lunged forward.

Lance beat him to it. The tray toppled to the floor, and the guy went flying over the nearest table with a crash of chairs. He didn’t get up. The old couple stared with mouths agape. Lance gracefully picked up the tray and stray food, as if nothing had happened. He led Keith out of the McDonald’s.

Keith couldn’t keep up with him, he was walking too fast. But Lance stopped in the middle of the parking lot, still gripping the tray. He picked up a hash brown and bit into it fiercely.

“That was him,” Keith explained solemnly.

“Yeah,” Lance said, oddly focused on eating his hash brown despite it having fallen on the floor. “I know. I knew the second I saw him.”

They went grocery shopping after that. Lance didn’t speak other than to ask about milk, “two percent or one?” Keith answered two, so they bought two. When they got back to Keith's apartment, Lance insisted on spending the rest of the afternoon preparing a “proper dinner. No more Mr. Noodles.” He refused to let Keith help, insisting that he go to bed and rest. Keith didn’t protest. He was exhausted.

It was hours later, from a deep and dreamless sleep, that Lance came to wake him.

“Hey, sleepyhead. You hungry?”

“Mflmsflrem,” Keith mumbled.

“What?”

Keith groaned and tried to wake himself up. He was pretty sure he could hear his bones creak.

“I see how it is,” Lance said, “you think I'm a terrible cook.” There was a small smirk on his face.

“I like your cooking,” Keith protested, doing his best to sit up, “I'm just stiff. S’hard to get up.”

Lance frowned and sat on the edge of the bed. “What hurts?”

Keith didn’t answer.

“Come on,” Lance sighed, “don’t be like that.”

Keith sighed. “Shoulders,” he shrugged a little, “ribs.”

Lance bit his lip and reached out a hand. “Can I?”

Keith didn’t say no, so Lance gently set his hands on his shoulders and prodded at the tense muscles.

“Gee,” he said. “You must be sore.”

“You don’t need to tell me,” Keith muttered, though his voice lost all its edge as Lance began to rub the ache from his shoulders.

“Better?” Lance asked after a minute.

“Better,” Keith nodded.

“Alright. Let’s eat.”

Dinner was nothing short of fantastic. Lance had outdone himself with an array of what could only be described as comfort food, taste fit for a king, with enough carbs to fuel a full-grown moose running a marathon.

“This is good,” Keith told him. “Like, really good.”

“Thanks,” Lance grinned. Then he chuckled.

“What?” Keith frowned.

“Don’t pout,” Lance was still laughing, “you just, you got a little something.”

Keith just pouted more and grabbed a napkin.

It was after dinner, curled up on the couch, that Keith felt fatigue take over his body once more. He stifled a yawn and raised his head to ask Lance what time it was.

“No clue,” Lance said, masking a yawn of his own, “but I'm tired.”

“Me too,” Keith said. “I'm going to bed. You…you, um, don’t have to sleep on the couch. If you don’t want to. You can sleep in the bed…with me…if you want.”

The corner of Lance's mouth quirked up in what could almost be called a smile. “I’ll be there in a couple minutes,” he said.

Keith got up from the couch and gingerly stretched his arms. He trudged off to get cleaned up and into bed, thinking he would wait up for Lance, but once he was nestled under the covers, the gravity of sleep pulled his eyelids over his eyes, and he was dragged down with them.

The early hours of the morning replaced the dark peace of sleep with restless waking. Keith shifted uncomfortably and tried to force himself back asleep, but napping for so long earlier had given him no reason for more rest.

Lance was next to him, he realized after a moment, not touching him but close enough to radiate warmth. Curled up on the other side of the bed, wearing an old t-shirt of Keith’s, his small frame rising unevenly under the fabric. Lance wasn’t sleeping either.

“Lance?” Keith ventured tentatively.

“Yeah?”

“I…I can't sleep.”

Lance sighed. “Me either.”

“What are you thinking about?”

Keith felt Lance's eyes on him, and he turned his head to meet them.

“You,” Lance said.

“Me?”

Lance nodded. “Honestly, you're all I can think about. The past few days have been hell. It’s not the same without you by my side, Keith. I...I’m not happy. I'm tired, and grumpy, and I miss you. I overreacted to this whole thing.”

“You didn’t overreact,” Keith said quietly.

“Fine, I wrong-reacted, then. Either way, I ruined everything, and now I'm just running around pretending I'm okay, because if anyone knew…if they knew, that on top of everything else, I screwed this up, too…” Lance roughly turned to face the wall. His voice was muffled in the blankets, but Keith was pretty sure he was crying. “All I ever do is make mistakes. And this just proves it. I've lost you. And now I don’t know what to do. I'm sorry, Keith. I'm sorry.”

“Lance,” Keith tugged at his arm, “hey. Come on,” he said softly. “Look at me.”

Lance sniffed and let Keith pull him to his other side. He shut his eyes and bit down on his lip. He heard Keith sigh, and then there was a hand, small and warm, rubbing his arm, and a voice, soft and safe, whispering it’ll be okay.

“You didn’t…you didn’t lose me,” Keith mumbled after a moment. “I still love you.”

Lance looked up at him with wide eyes. “I love you, too. Always. I don’t want this to be the end. I want us to work.”

“Me too,” Keith blinked, slow and sure.

“Does that mean we can…we can be us, again?” Lance asked tentatively.

“Yeah,” Keith smiled, “I think it does.”

[markleetrashh]

11:11;Mark

Genre: fluff/a little bit of angst

Requests: mark fluff for me bc why not,, tysm ilysm💓💓💓💓

May i request a kissing scenario with mark?

A/N: this came out randomly so i apologise if the plot isn’t that good :-( but i hope you all like it though

Word count: 1,199

——

“I just miss you so much and wish i could be wrapped up tightly in your arms.”

——

Being apart from your family didn’t affect you that much most of the time. But for some reason today, every inch of your body missed your parents, your siblings, and every one of your friends from back home.

For the first time in six months, you actually felt lonely.

It could be because you brought it upon yourself, as you were just looking back on all your photos and videos stored in your phone’s gallery, which brought about some nostalgic memories. Or maybe from the tremendous amount of stress you were facing from school, and the fact that you didn’t have anyone to lean on seemed to affect you over time. Or, perhaps, you hoped, it was because the time of the month is coming up soon, and that you were just being dramatic and emotional. Nonetheless, you hated this feeling.

You wrapped yourself up in the thick sheet of blanket you held in your arms; your only source of comfort, as you shut your eyes quickly to block out any source of light, attempting to put your thoughts away.

Ironically, the more you didn’t want to think about it, the more you did.

Thoughts eventually turned into emotions as unknowingly, a tear had found its way to your eyes, then rolling down your cheeks. You tried to resist, but seconds after you were balling your eyes out and sobbing while hiding under your blanket as the coldness from the room seemed to affect you even more.

And the thought of him made you cry even more; you wanted him by your side, in your arms.

But he wasn’t replying; he hadn’t replied since last night, and the thought of all the negative possibilities that could happen only pushed you down even more.

You wanted to go back home, where all your loved ones were by your side, and not in this small rented apartment which looked like a mess all the time. If only you didn’t insist on travelling aboard to study back then, if only you didn’t even leave; you wouldn’t have to leave everyone, you wouldn’t have to be alone, and you wouldn’t have moments like this where you miss everyone dearly yet can’t do anything about it.

You picked up your phone to check for notifications, hoping for that one text, or call you were hoping to get.

But there was nothing.

It was empty, just like your apartment.

11:11pm

The digits on your lockscreen fell into place.

You let out a sigh, then held your phone close to your chest.

“I wish for you to be by my side now. I miss you the most.”

——

You expected yourself to wake up on your cold, empty bed, in your usual messy and untidy room. Instead, you woke up to a pair of arms wrapped around your weak body, your head against the chest of a man’s.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion at first, unsure of how you even got into this position, what’s more, with a man.

But there was something about his touch that was familiar, and comforting. He was breathing heavily, head resting comfortably atop of yours.

Then you noticed the bracelet that sat on his wrist - the exact same one that you were wearing.

And your heart immediately stopped when you realised the identity of this man.

You looked up slightly to see the face of the one who were just wishing for the previous night, embracing you in his arms you had longed to be in for months. He was sleeping soundly and he look tired, as he moved slightly against your movements.

You were lost for words; only filled with happiness, shock and bewilderment.

The emptiness inside of you was now filled, as you leaned your heart closer to his chest, a sense of comfort and tenderness taking over.

Naturally, he wrapped his arms tighter around you too, pulling you closer to himself.

You looked up once again to admire the face of the one who only had the chance to look at through a digital screen the previous months, as your fingers traced his jawline, then to his cheeks, and finally, his lips that were chapped and dry due to the cold.

Mark flinched a little against your touch, but hand raised up to hold yours quickly, as he opened an eye to look at you, followed by a big smile.

“I missed you” he whispered softly to you, a tint of sleepiness still in his eyes, but smile bright enough to wake you up.

“I missed you too” you replied softly, leaning your head forward to give a peck on his lips.

But Mark pulled you closer once again, his hand behind your head as he pushed his lips against yours, your foreheads now leaning against one another. Your hands found their way around his neck, then to the back on his head, fingers in between his soft hair.

It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would and will never be. His hand moved below your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek as your breaths mingled and quickened.

You didn’t want to stop; you finally had him in your arms after months of missing him and you didn’t want pull apart.

Mark’s hands slipped around your waist, before he pulled away slowly then leaning his head down on your shoulder, his breath heavy.

You held him close you again, tears threatening to fall like last night, but this time it was happy tears.

Mark must have heard your small sobs, as he quickly cupped your face in his hands before looking at you softly, pouting his lips as you saw his eyes quivering at this weak state of you.

“My poor baby… It must have been tough on you, i’m sorry i couldn’t be here when you needed it” he said out to you, his eyes still looking at you with full of concern.

You shook your head, rubbing the tears away from your eyes as you laughed a little, squeezing his hands, “No, don’t apologise, it’s not your fault”

Mark’s fingers then caressed your cheeks, as his voice softened even more, but he gave you a small comforting grin, “Sorry i couldn’t reply the whole of yesterday. I took the last flight here after hearing from your friends that you didn’t look that good in school. I was worried”

Your heart was touched again by his words and actions, as another tear escaped your eyes, which led to Mark hugging you, patting your back lightly.

“I’ll be staying here for a week, just for you” he added on, with a look of excitement in his eyes.

You nodded your head, then hid your face in the crook of his neck, overwhelmed by what was happening.

Sometimes, wishes do come true.

In this case, this was the bestest wish that could have ever happened to you; it all felt too surreal.

[hotelsweet]

Hey, I had a random idea that could work as a prompt: AU meet-cute (because I'm a sucker for these) - Jake and Amy are seated next to each other on a flight and Amy is super uncomfortable/ close to freaking out (maybe because of her claustrophobia?) and Jake helps her calm down and they spend the rest of the flight talking? I dunno; random idea is random ^^;

I’MHYPERVENTILATIGN This prompt didn’t just… kill me it leapt off my screen andpunched me in the face!! In the best way possible ofcalso I’m lowkey in the mood for thisbc I’m travelling so much over thenext couple weeks!! I loooovvvveeeee it ok I won’t wastetime let’s just jump into it:

 It’s ataround 7:18pm, sat in the airport lounge waiting for her flight, that AmySantiago figures out that she is most likely receiving a death glare from thewoman sat opposite because she hasn’tstopped tapping her fingernails against her passport for the last ten minutes.

As soon as this realisation hits her she snaps out of it,immediately feeling the odd hollowness created by the absence of her nervoustick.

It’s nother fault. Flying is and always has been one of her worst fears- thoughnowadays, she’s mostly been able to subduethe anxiety for the sake of adult life, childhood nightmares of falling fromthe sky long behind her, sometimes it simply gets the better of her.

This, by all accounts, would be one of those times.

Her fingers itch to keep tapping. A light sheen of sweatglistens uncomfortably over her forehead. Her stomach churns, nausea pulsatingunder every centimetre of her skin at the thought what’s essentially a large tin can propelling itself throughthe air until she’s back home in New York.

Focused on the huge plane outside the window, she can’t help the feeling of completehelplessness that fills her.

“Will passengers for the American Airlines flight 481 to JFK pleasebegin boarding…”

A cool, calm female voice echoes through the atrium, andeveryone around Amy begins to move, standing up and organising their thingsbefore rushing over to the gate.

Perhaps she stands up too quickly, but a wave of dizzinessslams into her like she’s beenhit by a car.

Despite the collected, sweet voice that instructs her andeveryone around her, she can’t helpthe bitter irritation that brews within her at the thought of this flight. Whenit’s bad, it’s really bad;claustrophobia, social anxiety, the works. A complete tapestry of anxiety.

With a sigh, she picks up her bag and heads towards theboarding gate, waiting patiently in line with everyone else.

Inwardly, as she pats away the sweat on her forehead, sheprays she’s not sitting next to a totalasshole.

    ***

    As luck would have it, she is, in fact, sat next to a totalasshole.

“Hey, Angie?! Could I get,like, a whole bunch more of these nuts? I’m supersnacky.”

Sat up on his seat like a little kid, the man sat next toher, in the window seat, beams toothily at the flight attendant- who, to Amy’s disgust, giggles softly at him witha nod, before heading towards the back of the cabin. He’s tall, dressed in a leather jacket with a hoodieunderneath- like he can’tdecide whether he wants to be an adult or a teenager, she thinks. Annoyancestirs within her at the entire image of him, and only partially because she hasa select and precise loathing for men who speak to female employees as if they’re friends.

Since he’sarrived, squeezing past her into his seat, he’sfiddled loudly with his little TV screen, chatted to the cabin crew like they’re his college buds, and hummed theentirety of what she’sfairly certain was a Coldplay song. She’s neverseen someone so unapologetically cheerful and friendly.

He must catch the side-eye she’sgiving him, because after he’s sathimself back down, his attention keeps coming back to her, looking at heroddly, a combination of interest and confusion in his expression.

She tries to ignore it, the way he’s unabashedly observing her in public, watching her gothrough each of her electronic devices and turn them off. His gaze burns intoher, completely unashamed, until she actually finds herself becomingfrustrated. He must be used to this, being able to look at and speak to whoeverhe wants- he’s pretty good-looking, andclearly a confident guy. Somehow, this only makes her want to scold him more.

“Can I help you?” She asks him sweetly.

“Y’know, you don’t actually need to do that,” he says matter-of-factly, noddingdown at her lap, in which sits her laptop, her phone, and her iPod, all now shutoff or on airplane mode.

“What? Yes, you do,” she says, “otherwise why would they ask you to?”

“Because it’s not actually dangerous, it justmakes an annoying noise over the radar when they’retrying to fly.”

“Well, then,” she says, smiling coolly, “I guess I just have a shred of commoncourtesy.”

He doesn’t replyto this, instead raising his eyebrows indignantly and sitting back in his seat.She glances over at him, just once, to see if he’sreacted- but all that remains on his face is a slight expression of amusement.It’s just on the brink of irritating, asthough her speaking back to him is funny somehow.

Quietly, she opens her bag in her lap, and begins to dig forher Ambien and a bottle of water. Her fingers find the bottle, pulling it outof the bag- but, to her horror, the pills are nowhere in sight.

“No, c’mon…” shemutters to herself as she begins to dig through her bag more urgently.

Annoyance and another dollop of anxiety smacks her gutharshly as she realises she’s aboutto sit here, for six hours, next to this dude,without anything to calm her down. She could always soothe the nerves with somewine, but right now she’drather do anything than bring that flight attendant back to her.

A soft dingsignifies the seatbelt sign coming on for the first time- Amy’s stomach twinges with nerves, eventhough this fits the order of things, the bustle and hubbub of people settlinginto their seats having died down. The little screen in front of her lights upand begins to play a safety video, and several flight attendants file into theaisles to begin their demonstration.

“I’m Jake,” theman next to her says quietly as she watches the hostess in front of them.

She smiles politely at him then looks back towards thehostess. It’s not that he seems genuinelyawful, or anything- even if he has been mildly irritating in the half an houror so they’ve spent together- but shejust could not be in less of a mindset to make a friend; even chatting feels alittle too much of an effort to push her head into right now. Judging by theway he was talking to that attendant, there’s alsothe chance that he’s about to start flirtingwith her, which she really can’t deal with right now. So, as far asshe’s concerned, the best option issilence.

“Okay, I’m sorry for picking on you when youput all of your electronics into airplane mode. I have a reflex where I can’t help but pick on dorky littlethings like that.”

“Are you sure that was anapology?” She narrows her eyes andturns to him. He looks at her candidly, like he’sgenuinely undecided. It’s atthis exact moment that she realises he’sharmless, going from one goofy expression to the next like a teenager.

“I guess I’m a little out of practice,” he admits, a small chuckle risingfrom his throat.

“Right.”

Though she’slooking forward at the air hostess, she allows herself a small smile now, as itbecomes clearer and clearer that, immature as he could be, his main issue as aperson seems to be being overfriendly.

“I’m Amy,” sheoffers.

“Amy,” he repeats, smiling. “Nice tomeet you.” He offers his hand, whichshe shakes firmly. “Good shake,” he comments.

“I’m well-practiced,” shesays proudly. Momentarily, she spots confusion dart over his face, but sheignores it- she doesn’t owehim the wild stories of her handshake seminars, not yet.

“So what’s bringing you to New York?” He asks quietly, after a moment.

“Sorry, I just-” she cuts in over him awkwardly, “I want to listen to this,” she says, looking between him andthe safety demonstration.

“Right,” he says, and she turns back to watch. Only a couple ofseconds pass before he’stalking again. “I can only assume this isyour first ever flight, because there’sliterally no other reason to be that invested in an airline’s safety guidelines.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” shereplies, “but do you ever stop talking?”

“I guess not,” he says, throwing a peanut in theair and catching it in his mouth. “Nut?”

“I’m good.”

“Your loss.” He throws another in the air.

“Oh! You’re not wearing your seatbelt,” she realises out loud, the concernin her tone immediately making her a little self-conscious.

“Oh, right,” he mutters, clicking it into place. “Forgot.”

Forgot? Shewatches him fiddle with it, then go into his hand luggage, pulling out a bottleof Gatorade, from which he takes a hefty swig. She can’t help but feel a little sick at this- it’s 8:30 in the morning, and thethought of any beverage other than coffee is too much for her.

He’sunlike anyone she’s ever met before- adecent-looking man, likely around her age, with the habits and chatter of afive-year-old.

Distracted by him, she almost jumps when the plane’s engines begin to rumble, graspingfirmly onto the arm rests of her seat as they do.

“Woah,” Jake murmurs, and Amy’s notsure whether it’s a genuine reaction or beingsaid in a bid to reassure her somehow. Either way, she doesn’t care. “Y’okay?”

“Yeah, just took me bysurprise a little,” she admits.

“Sir,” that flight hostess’s voicereturns again, directed towards Jake, “if Icould request that you close your tray table.”

“Sure, smort,” he replies hastily, smiling up ather.

“Smort? Very smooth,” Amyjibes as soon as the hostess is out of earshot. He narrows his eyes. “Y’knowshe’s essentially paid to flirt with you, right?”

“For the record, I find itvery hurtful and presumptuous that you’reassuming I’m trying to flirt with her.”

“Please, it’s all you’ve done since you stepped onto this plane.”

“How d’you know that?”

“I don’t, obviously, I just mean… y’know, you’re-” Shestammers, irritated by the small smile this evokes from him.

The plane jumps as something kickstarts in the engine, and,startled, Amy’s grip on the arm reststightens- she looks out of the window, and notices that they’re at the start of the runway. Atonce, both fear and gratitude seeps into her system- fear, in response to thefact that she’s about to be launched 35,000feet into the air, and gratitude in response to the fact that, by some miracle,Jake has kept her distracted from it all for the last ten minutes or so.

“Cabin crew, please take yourseats for takeoff…” A low voice comes throughthe ceiling, raspy as though playing through a radio. Panic strikes into Amy’s chest.

“Talk to me,” she hears herself saying to Jake,before she’s even thought about it. “Please.”

She’sexpecting a joke, a look of confusion, or at least a smartass reply back- butinstead, his nonchalant expression changes immediately into one of concern.

“Sure, sure,” he starts, “Uh. You never said why you’regoing to New York.”

“I’m going home,” shesays quickly, as the plane starts to move. “I livein Brooklyn.”

“Nice,” he replies, “I livein Williamsburg.”

“Hipster-ville,” she says, without hesitation. To hersurprise, he laughs.

“I was about to argue back,but someone opened a cronut store opposite my apartment the other week.”

“A cronut store? As in, just cronuts?”

“Yeah. They’re not even that great. And I’d know- I once ate nothing but pastryfor three days”

There’s apause, and Amy’s eyes find the window, wherethe plane is now picking up speed along the runway. Jake must notice this too,because he tries to pick up conversation again rather hurriedly-

“Roommates?”

“What?”

“D’you have ‘em?” He smiles, in what must be at leastpartial disbelief, at the sudden, high-paced conversation they’re having.

“Yeah, three!”

“Three?!”

“Yeah,” she laughs nervously, “I’m kind of low on cash. I’m training at the Academy right now-I want to be a cop, so I’mcommuting, and training, and working, and… what?” She stops at the only slightly gorgeous grin he’s giving her right now.

“You’re at the Academy?”

“Yeah,” she says slowly.

“No way. I’m a cop! I finished my training acouple years back.”

“Are you kidding?” She asks seriously, completelyunable to picture this man-child in uniform.

He starts to answer, but the plane leaves the ground, andshe can’t help the small gasp thatescapes her.

“It’s okay, don’tworry.” His voice is calm, natural,quiet- just for her. By some miracle, it works, even if only by a little, herbody settling into an out-of-place calmness. “We’re good.”

“Keep talking,” she pleads, only slightlyembarrassed now by her evident vulnerability with this man, a total stranger. Nevertheless,she smiles over at him, thankful for his reassurance.

“Oh, right- so, yeah, I’m working at the 90.”

“Beat cop?”

“Yeah. Hopefully a detectivein a few years.”

“That’s exciting,” shesays, but she’s got her eyes closed, tryingto quell the dizziness caused by the rapid ascent of the plane. He chucklessoftly- she presumes at her attempt to hold a conversation with her eyesclosed- and though normally she’d feela little put out by this, she can’t helpbut laugh along with him.

Of all the things she thought she’d be doing on her flight, feeling her lungs fill withlaughter as she took off was not on the list.

The plane lifts, and lifts, and lifts- and then it doesn’t, gliding through the cloudsseamlessly.

A small dingalerts her to the seatbelt sign, which has just turned off.

“So, you’re not big on flying, huh.”

The remark comes a little while after they’re in the air. She’s breathing slowly- the conversationwith Jake died down a few minutes ago, after the plane became more stable inthe air.

She glances over at him, feeling sarcasm brim in her throat-but his expression is soft, of genuine concern.

“No,” she half-laughs. “I’m not.”

“It’s no big deal.”

“It’s just so…annoying. I know, logically, that I’m fine,but it just creeps up on me, I guess.”

“It happens. Sometimes youjust need a distraction.”

He looks over at her, smiling.

“Right,” she says, meeting his gaze.

A pause lingers between them for just a moment.

“So,” he begins, eventually, cutting the tension. “How’s theAcademy?”

“Intense,” she offers quickly, “but I like it.”

“Some of those old drillsstill haunt me,” he shudders. She laughs,relaxing a little. “What do you want to do?”

“Ideally? Captain of my ownprecinct.”

“Woah.”

“Yeah,” she replies proudly, smiling lowly.

“For the record, youdefinitely seem like a Captain.”

“Really?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“You’ve known me for like, half an hour.”

He smiles, but just as his lips part and he begins to speak again,the plane jolts harshly, the first knock of turbulence.

Amy’s handsshoot straight back to the armrests on either side of her chair, one firmlygrabbing Jake’s arm. She lets go quickly,looking over at him apologetically. He looks as though he’s about to start talking again,reassure her- but he gives up, and only smiles.

Nerves spill into her system like electricity.

This time, it’s notthe plane.

  ***

   “Such a good movie,” Jake murmurs as Die Hard’scredits begin to roll in front of them.

His voice is almost too close- after a couple hours ofconversation, spanning from everything from her seven brothers to his absentpilot father to the best cop movies of all time, they’d decided to watch DieHard, Jake’s favourite and bid for thenumber one spot. However, this had meant picking whose screen to use. She’d suggested hers for two reasons: sothat she’d not have to lean againsthim, and so that she’d nothave to lean any closer to the window, and risk seeing that stomach-churningheight outside. So now, as he speaks, he’spractically in her ear.

“Are you… crying?”

“No, duh,” he replies, sitting back, buthis voice has cracked slightly, exposing him. She can’t help but chuckle. “It’s a deeply personal film to me.”

“I can see that,” she says, unable to keep her smileoff her face.

“Hey, you don’t get to tease me about gettingemotional.”

“What? Why?”

“Earlier? When I mentioned theorange soda thing? You freaked out.”

“Putting it in your cereal isobjectively disgusting!”

“Oh god, I shouldn’t have brought this up again.”

“You should not be as fit as you are.”

“I’m fit?” Hegrins.

“Not… I didn’t mean…”

“Kidding.”

She nudges his shoulder and sits back in her seat. Heatrises in her cheeks- she can feel him looking at her even though she’s turned away, and suddenly she’s wishing she’d worn literally anymakeup, or perhaps something more form-flattering than a giant sweater and apair of leggings.

“How’re you feeling?” Heasks after a moment.

“Better,” she says slowly, and she means it-she’s tired, certainly, from the stressof the morning, but otherwise, she’sfeeling pretty good. Plus, she’s madea friend. “How long left?”

“Uh…” He flicks on his screen. “Woah.An hour and a half.”

“Seriously?!” She looks over in amazement. “That’sincredible. Thank you.”

“Thank you?”

“For keeping me distracted.”

“Oh, right. Don’t worry about it. For the record, it’s been pretty enjoyable.”

She smiles gently. He’s notbad. Not at all.

“Excuse me,” an older voice comes from the seatin front of them. An elderly woman, easily in her seventies or eighties, hasher head poking through the gap between her seat and the one next to her. “Excuse me.”

“Hi,” Amy says slowly, in some disbelief, sharing a brief lookof confusion with Jake. “Can wehelp?”

“It’s just, I’ve beenlistening to the two of you, for the last couple hours,” she admits easily, prompting another shared look betweenJake and Amy. “And I was wondering if Icould ask you something.”

There’s abrief pause as they wait for her to ask- at which point it becomes clear thatshe’s genuinely asking for permission.

“Go ahead,” Jake says, after a second.

“When in the hell are yougoing to ask her out?”

  ***

  As the plane plummets to the ground, swooping so fast Amy’s ears pop, her hand is claspedfirmly over the warm arm of one Jake Peralta, a man she has known for sixhours.

Her eyes are closed, and every thought in her head centres onthe feeling of where she holds him. For the first time in her life, she’s finding her flight’s landing remarkably tolerable.

Eventually, a bump tells her they’re on the ground- then, gradually, bit by bit, they slowdown.

With a deep breath, she begins to completely calm down,opening her eyes and turning to the kind, friendly, attractive man sat next toher- for a moment, she wonders how, today, she got so lucky.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to New York. The current local time is5:30pm…”

“Okay, so I guess this is it.”

“I guess so,” she agrees.

They watch each other quietly for a second- then,simultaneously, break out into huge grins, mirroring each other giddily.

“So…”

“See you at eight?”

“Sounds good.”