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thed4rkhand · 3 years ago

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So today we’re doing Yoongi’s chart and my analysis of it. Let me make it clear right off the bat, that since I’m not a professional astrologer, some things may not match up, further since we’re not super sure of his birth time, it’ll definitely affect the reading. What I can be sure of is that I’ll do my best and I’m completely open to constructive criticism from you all!

Now lets get on with some basic stuff, for those who have not yet read the post with Namjoon’s moon analysis, I’ll again reiterate some principles of Vedic astrology! In the scenario that you’re still confused with all this jargon, feel free to reach out and I’ll be more than happy to help you out.

Starting out, we have to note that while western astrology is usually more advisory in nature, Vedic astrology’s main purpose is to predict. Also, we usually go a sign back from western astrology (24’ back to be more precise) in Vedic astrology, so according to that for example, if you’re a libra rising, you become a virgo rising in Vedic astrology and so on and so forth. All planets will also shift back a sign, so a Capricorn Mercury will become a Sagittarius Mercury.

Now let’s be aware that the chart may be a bit different, but given the main d1 (Lagna) chart remains the same for about 2 hours, let’s focus on that and the moon chart (rashi chart) for this reading. We can also just look at d9 for strength but not house placements as that can be time sensitive. So, we can take a two hour margin of time discrepancy and still predict accurately.

For this reading, we have taken 9th March 1993 as the day and 7:30am as the time of birth, with the location set to Daegu.

OTHER THAN THIS, LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT ME TO DO A BIRTH TIME RECTIFICATION FOR YOONGI LATER ON SO WE CAN GET MORE ACCURATE PREDICTIONS.

Since this is a general chart analysis, we shall be covering topics briefly and discussing the moon, ascendant and sun. For an in depth reading, do pick a smaller and focussed topic as we can honestly keep going on and on about a chart.

THIS READING WILL BE DONE IN SEVERAL 4 PARTS, FOLLOWING THE ASCENDANT, MOON, SUN AND MISCELLANEOUS.

Lets get started then-

Right off the bat, we can see that Yoongi is born into Pisces, with his ascendant at 10’35’, within the Nakshatra of Uttarabhadprada, within the 3rd quadrant or pada. He has venus situated in the lagna itself, in Pisces, thus exalted. His lagna lord, Jupiter, is in the 7th house, conjuct with the Moon, in the sign of virgo, where jupiter gains the upper hand despite mercury (lord of virgo) being enemies. The lord is directly aspected by mars in the fourth house. The lord of the birth Nakshatra is Saturn here, which sits in the 12th house, conjunct sun and mercury (dispositer of the ascendant lord). Lastly, moon, jupiter and rahu aspect the lagna of this chart. Of course there is so so much more here, but we’ve got a whole chart to cover!

(p.s I can already see this is such a fun chart to read)

Getting on with the reading, we firstly see that he’s born under Pisces lagna, this makes the native calm and collected, as well as fond of philosophy and psychology. What we often forget is, people born under Pisces are said to have been born under all the other signs in their past life, and cumulatively they use their skills and knowledge from those lives in their current one. Remember how on Bon Voyage trips and just about every RunBts, saga seems like the ‘dad’ of the bunch? cooking, cleaning, fixing stuff Joon broke, producing music and the stuff? And all those times that he is so very understanding of other? He doesn’t scold Jungkook, let alone anyone else? These are typical Pisces traits. They’re very domestic and understanding by nature, because they’ve been there before in a past life, and enjoy taking care of people.

The downside to this? They can be extremely manipulative if they want to be, they know exactly what to say, when to say, to whom to say and so on. They have an alarming grip on people’s emotions, and have a magnetic quality to them. Further, this is mostly an observation, you’ll often notice that most pisces natives are fond of alcohol (could be because they exist in a water sign? Could be because its the natural 12th house ruler of addictions too?)

Coming to the Nakshatra here, we have UttaraBhadrapada, the second last Nakshatra of the series. This Nakshatra is ruled by Saturn, and the presiding deity being Ananta or Ahir Budhyana, the deep ocean serpent in hindu mythology. The deity Ananta represents boundless expansion, be it of fortune, goodwill or knowledge. Ahir Budhyana, is a sattvic (sacred or untainted) form of lord Shiv, and resides at he bottom of the ocean. He represents the liberation from illusions and attainment of spiritual enlightenment and knowledge. The natives of this Nakshatra here embody these qualities of their deities. We see them as philanthropic and reserved beings, who enjoy learning about a variety of subjects and spirituality. Such people are extremely progressive in their thinking patterns, and often a magnetic pull like the deep ocean serpent has.

They’re extremely controlled and calculating in their approach, and think more than speak. This by no means is to say that they don’t speak, because such people are great orators by nature. They stand up for the underdogs and have a unique approach to topics. They are extremely interested in occult and metaphysical practices and theories. They however commonly don’t obtain higher education or do well in fields of fine arts, even their primary education is not something they excel at. (i once read that yoongi really likes reading about a variety of subjects, and also Paulo Coelho, definitely his UttaraBhadrapada here)

The bad side to this Nakshatra? They’re very critical and over-analyze everything and everyone. Sometimes, even unconsciously, they manipulate people to suit their needs and whims. They get side tracked too often and have difficulty focussing on one task at hand, often amounting to laziness in other people’s eyes, even if the native is extremely hardworking in reality. However when in comes to personal care, they tend to do things in a very half-hearted manner. These people are also prone to isolating themselves from others, especially when things get hard. Due to the sign falling in pisces here, people also tend to have many different mental burdens and disorders, which arise from their constant scatter-brained self and inability to make out between the spiritual and real realms.

They can also be heavy drinkers and abuse substances in such a Nakshatra, or enjoy partaking in occult practices while under influences. They might’ve also faced a very rough childhood with such a Nakshatra, neglected and misunderstood by people around him. The natives could also have moved away from their parents during their early adulthood for education or job purposes. Such people can have health issues like hemorrhoids, stomach ailments and hernias. Usually they lead a stable period full of health and success in the latter part of life, say about after 48 years(since the south node Ketu matures as 48).

Since Suga’s Nakshatra falls into the third pada or quadrant, its ruled by libra here. Libra here focusses on balance and cooperation. Such people may make a living working with other people, or in industries related to entertainment. They may make great debaters, and think excessively about what other think of them as. They’re very conscious of other’s opinion, even if they don’t show it, so we often find such people wearing extremely covered up and baggy clothes for example, or keeping a low profile. They may have a very practical and unbiased approach to most things in life. Such people are intensely into spiritual practices and often times fully devote themselves at hours at a time to worship of gods, angel or other beings. They may be the type to attract people very easily, or even be the kind to fall in love extremely easily.

The second placement we come to, is Venus in the first house, in Pisces. Venus here is naturally exalted (most powerful). Sure ill give you the generic explanation in a bit but, do you know which type of people usually have this placement? Actual saints and famed occultists. Sure many people within the entertainment industry too, but this placement can hands down be one of the most spiritual and divine placements of Venus in the chart. First ill go ahead and give the normal meaning and effect, and then lets dive into the crazy stuff (istg his chart is so goooood). Such people usually have really magnetic personalities, and given Venus is in Uttarabhadrapa, these are the people who you don’t notice at first, but then its like a whirlpool of being invested in them, as opposed to being in Revati Nakshatra (another Piscean nakshatra) which would be a more dramatic pull, based off an extroverted personality. These people can be very good looking, more feminine looking, could definitely look like their mothers with this position. Brilliant luck in fields of arts and entertainment and also genius level of creativity and talent. Here, people can have brilliant luck too, like god’s hand on their head kind. Accumulation of wealth and property can also be seen here.

Now onto the really fun stuff. These people are actually rarely concerned with someone’s exterior, because often times such people have such good intuition and spiritual powers (some are literally called mystics because of this), they can literally see through someone. For this reason, they actually don’t like associating with too many people, despite having a very charming personality. These are the kind of people that keep searching for ‘the one’. These people often give up everything and go ahead and become priests. The calling to god with such a placement is very strong. They also don’t like collecting too many material possessions, as they feel its redundancy in this very changing world. These people hold the few people they’re close to, very very tightly to themselves. These people also may have a very low sexual drive actually, (i know, I know, how can a strong Venus do this?) because an exalted Venus is about devotion to god, to one person, and leaving sensory pleasures behind in life. A debilitated Venus on the other hand (eg. Jungkook has one) might make someone very invested in worldly matters. These people are happy with being alone and single for a long time, they’re very satisfied with their own company. Such placements can make someone practice magick or astral projection too. (Venus in 12th sign of liberation, liberation from physical body)

Given that in this chart, Venus is his 3rd and 8th lord, we can make further deductions. Firstly, since 3rd lord is going 11 houses away, its an extremely auspicious placement here. Self made person, making wealth through communication, can also have very witty and intelligent responses to things. Since the third house also represents courage and valor, this can make someone very fearless and say whats on their mind bluntly. Since the 3rd house is part of the Kama Trikon houses (houses of desire), this going into the 1st house, which is a part of the Dharma Trikon houses (houses of morality), gives interesting results here. Firstly, such people are fiercely independent, and hate to be disrupted when there pursuing their goals and working towards them. They hate to take help from anyone, and as a result are extremely competent. secondly, such people have a moral high ground, to which they religiously abide. They’re extremely righteous and stand up for those who wouldn’t be able to for themselves. Since from here, it aspects the 7th house of agreements, such people are great at understanding and signing contracts for work.

Now with the 8th house, we have a bit of a conundrum here honestly. It belongs to 2 types of houses, the moksha trikona houses (houses of salvation) as well as the Dushtana houses (evil houses). While this placement isn’t all that bad, it isn’t he best either. firstly though, this is a placement where the native always wins over their enemies (8th lord 6 houses away from itself), be it enemies as in people, or simply obstacles in their life. This also confers a long lifespan to people, given that his 8th lord is also exalted here. However such people are prone to accidents, given that the 1st house is the body, 8th house is sudden events and the natural 8th ruler mars is a karka or signifactor of vehicles. Such people are also against organized forms of religions, since the Dushtana lord is sitting in a dharma house. The native is also extremely private and secretive given the 1st house of self has the 8th lord of secrets sitting in it. Since it also aspects the 7th house of other people, this person has that aura of mystery about them because of this. Such people are deeply critical in nature but can have extreme wisdom in cases of hidden objects or matters of the occult.

Now coming to his aspects. His Venus is aspected by moon, Jupiter and Rahu. The first two are benefic in nature and the latter is malefic. Moon-Venus and Jupiter-Venus are also mutually aspecting each other in pairs here. Moon here gives Venus the property of being constantly cynical of themselves regards to what others may perceive them as, given moon is emotion and the 7th house here is other people. Their thoughts here are deeply influenced by other people, they may always keep serving other people too, through acts of service. This also makes someone who falls in love very easily, but it is important to engage this person’s mind in a relationship, they just cant do without an emotional bond here. Since Moon also represents fame in a chart, this makes a person very famous, as they receive attention from many people, and people want to analyze them, and enjoy their work and presence.

Jupiter here, makes the person level headed and practical. The person wouldn’t be all touchy feely with people they like, because they would like to remain more in control of the situation here. They’d rather engage in a full blown debate with someone, than hold hands. This also makes them very worldly and teacher like, while also being attracted to very worldly people themselves.

Rahu’s aspect on the other hand, makes someone stand out in a crowd (Rahu signifies an outcast), they may have a rough and cold exterior due to this. They may also have had issues with body image (1st house is self), or mental health here. These people are enamored by all things foreign, and love exploring the other cultures. They may have issues identifying with their own community at large, and may identify with the downtrodden of the society.

Now going to Jupiter and moon conjunction in the 7th house. I wont go very deep into this, as its a super interesting concept, and it’ll be better covered in the second part of the reading regarding the moon itself, so ill keep it short and related to the ascendant. Also the mutual aspect part will be explained in more detail in the miscellaneous section later. Plus this is getting far too long for even me now.

Getting on with the reading for now, moon and Jupiter here are in virgo, in a loose conjunction (one is at approximately 2’ and the other at 18’). This is actually one of the not very yogas (combinations)in a chart, about 15% of people have these. Its called the Gaj-Kesari yoga (the elephant and lion combination), because people with this are so extremely lucky, its like the kings of the jungle are together to support it. They have the wisdom of the elephant and the courage of a lion. This is a raj yoga (royal combination). a native born with Gaj-Kesari Yoga is intelligent, strong, and prosperous. Gaj or Elephant possesses immense strength and is devoid of pride and the Lion is known for his foresight and skillful intelligence as well as his strength, quickness, skillful leadership, ability and courage. Thus, when Gaj-Kesari Yoga is formed then that person is extremely successful. They will be a kind and philanthropic person, who will always have sympathy for others. They will be quite humble regarding work, would like to talk nicely to people and aim to attain spiritual progress in life. Many people will recognize them as their mentor or guide and will act according to their instructions or advice. They may have a tendency attracting people and people being magnetized by them. They will be blessed with abundant wealth and become the owner of movable and immovable property(cars as well as homes). They will establish relationships with rich and reputed people of the society and enjoy all kinds of material pleasures in life.

Since this occurs in virgo, it makes a person intelligent, sharp and gifts them with amazing memory power. Such a person is knowledgeable and can become the head of a large educational institution. He may own incomparable wealth and can earn a good name and money from business as well. Often such people earn a high reputation in the Stock Market and make progress in life by working in any financial institution or insurance sectors.

Here jupiter in particular makes someone extremely cynical in nature, and their mind is always, and I mean always, thinking about romantic relationships or platonic ones. However given that jupiter is also the 10th lord here, they could be extremely focused on work too. Their life is surrounded by contracts, and may work with others for a living(7th house is house of courts and partnership). They could be very interested in the financial sector here, they could be extremely money minded and money means stability to them. Moon here on the other hand makes the person very moody, and extremely dependent on their spouse or colleagues. Since it rules the fifth house here, it signifies that such people are extremely creative in their work, may work for children or young adults, have a lot of past life karma related to work, and also that they’re extremely devoted lovers. They tend to criticize their close friends and loved ones, just because they’re so cynical and blunt, and want the absolute best for people. They may hurt people’s feeling without realizing it sometimes. (this was very brief but refer to point 12)

Now coming to Saturn in 12th, as the lord of the birth nakshatra. Saturn over here signifies working in the fields of music, but given saturn represents electronics, it could mean a producer too. Since its in Aquarius here, a sign of dual lordship, this resents a constant up and down of mood and life spirit. The person with such a placement is confused with what truly makes them happy in life, the spiritual realm or the materialistic realm. They keep going up and down the path of being spiritual, till 36 years (saturn matters at 36). They may face a lot of mental disorders here. They may have trouble sleeping at night. Given saturn is also work, they may earn through foreign sources in life. Such a person invests money into properties (saturn is houses) and lacks liquid cash. The person may have a weak left eye (12th house is left eye). They may earn from multiple sources in life, and have multiple talents. Such people have low sex drives as saturn is a dry eunuch planet, and in the 12th house of bed pleasures, it may not allow native to enjoy it. They may not be interested in worldly pleasures with such placements.

Lastly (finally?), we have to discuss the looks! Pisces ascendents usually have the short to medium height, and tend to appear a little fuller even when they’re very scrawny. (its because jupiter is the largest planet). Uttarabhadrapada natives tend to have a very innocent look to them, a very calming nature and vibe. however, like the deep sea serpant, they have very deep and magnetic eyes, and a very expressive face (yoongi memes). They usually have a very beautiful smile, and can literally attract people with it (again the snake like quality). They tend to have a very blank look usually, and if you ever notice, they’ll have the most stunning eyelashes actually, given the yoni is the female cow. They might also have the habit of moving their mouth around when their thinking, quite like ruminating.

Given venus sits here, is gives the person very attractive, effeminate features. Think extremely renaissance type of soft features. It can give them very delicate hands and feet with such a placement. The moon aspect here, gives them a rounded face and pale skin. They might have sparkly eyes and a roundish appearance here, also the tendency to gain weight around their face, with short necks. They make also look much younger than their actual age.The jupiter aspect again makes the native very other worldly looking, almost like you can imagine them in a dark robe literally performing rituals. It gives people a calm and teacher type of vibe to them. The rahu aspect usually just blows qualities out of proportion. Have you seen how small and angelic suga looks compared to the other? (not saying they’re not angelic but still), thats the rahu aspect. Again, rahu aspects only get better with time.

So this was my analysis! If anyone has any questions or doubts, hit me up! Let me know if you enjoyed it!

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sugar-petals · 4 years ago

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Your First Date With Baekhyun

:: bbh x sm apprentice!reader

words. 10k

warnings ⚠️ idol au hc, pining, brief angst, eventual car sex 👀, tw light injuries bc baek is clumsy in love, oral fixation, finger sucking, rough sex, making out

↳ NOTE. here we go again with the slow burn ✊🔥

It all starts with a divine act of clumsiness.

An accident, completely out of the blue.

Who is surprised, what else could it be.

Ever since Baekhyun violently bumped into you from behind in the SM cafeteria to avoid Mark spilling red hot Americano on him… life has never been the same.

That you walked in on him walking around mighty topless, with you wanting to clear the dance practice room many hours after work three times already does not help.

It’s always the same chain of events. He practices for longer than the others and gets sweaty, pulls off his shirt, pauses the music for a five-minute break. That’s unintentionally making it seem like everyone is already gone and the room is empty — you are deceived by it every time, and he almost gets a heart attack himself. We know how easily embarrassed Baekhyun is with showing skin by accident, outside of any shower stalls that is, let alone being caught stripping by himself.

The first time he screams and you scream, off you run after quickly shutting the door. He tries his best to cover himself up with his hands, but to no avail. Lucas, Kai, and Johnny are no longer the only Magic Mikes under this rowdy fucking roof anymore. Even if you turned around fast, you saw more than a whole lot.

You know how scared Baekhyun is by surprises, he gets all fidgety. Even after four whole minutes, he still sits with the music off breathing harder than he did from powering through four jointbreaking ligament-snappers I mean EXO choreographies.

Lot of thoughts on his mind, lot of blood pumping through him. Baekhyun can hear a pretty hefty heartbeat pound in his ears. Eventually, he shakes his head at himself and does switch the music back on. But even that doesn’t distract him, nor can he concentrate on the moves. He keeps on asking himself — what the hell is wrong, what is this, why does he act like that?

So, he ends up sneaking out of the room to call it a day. You were waiting in the nearby corridor to do the cleaning after he left. But now, you hide behind a shelf with props and miscellanea to avoid him.

Of course, Baekhyun comes to grab a water bottle from said cupboard. Well, oh shit. He has his shorts on, and his calves are literally 20 inches away from you. He doesn’t see you crouching down there, but your pulse is going through the roof now, too.

In fact, not even the days when Taeyong is walking around the company in a sexy as hell crop top could cause you such a panic. And that is the highest possible bar already. The average apprentice almost faints.

There’s pungent sweat that can knock you out of your socks… and then there’s sexy sweat scent mixed with men’s deodorant. Baekhyun leaves the latter after rushing out of the corridor. It’s even more intense in the practice room, if not absolutely unbearable. Oh boy. Pheromones, please no.

It’s almost as if you’re taking a bath in cologne. You’re getting nauseous and tingly from how it gets to you. You can hardly focus on scrubbing the mirror. If only the guy knew what horniness he is causing just by infusing the air, what the fucking fuck.

The second time, he jerks up again, but tries to explain himself. But so do you, ending up with a mutual, stuttering word spill in sync.

Neither of you understood what the other was saying because you were too busy with a knee-jerk dialogue. Anxious all over, you quickly leave and eventually end up hiding behind the cupboard again. The new comeback track blasts even louder in the practice room.

The third occasion, you no longer flinch at each other and laugh a little, mighty embarrassed still, but apologize with knowing eyes. This time, you enter the room after a small „Can I?“ and at least manage to clear some noodle boxes and unused towels from the backup dancers away, and pin a new schedule to the door.

Baekhyun quickly pulls over his plain white tee and keeps on mumbling sorry, sorry like he’s Super Junior, practically scraping the ground with his hair because he bows so deep.

You’ve never seen him this awkward. Instead of his usual one-liners and most effortless conversation starters, he resorts to switching on the music again after frantically looking everywhere but in your direction. He sings his lines right along, getting back into the routine’s intricate steps.

Strange.

Very strange.

All day, he is impulsive with lightening up just about any situation. One sentence, hook line and sinker; the mood alleviates. Not this time. He’s ignoring you now that you’re in the room.

The truth is: Baekhyun can’t help but set his pupper eyes on you in all other occasions already, especially when you’re busy at a distance. And it’s making him crazy. Next day at the cafeteria, he deliberately arrives late so he can queue way, way behind you.

For the first time in all glorious epochs K-Pop history, he would let Sehun enter the line before him so he would have a shield. „Maknaes first“ is his brief comment, and Sehun thinks that Baekhyun must squarely confuse today with his birthday.

And fate says… sike. Two minutes later, a teary Mark rushes toward you and loudly apologizes for the Americano disaster. „Baekhyun was not being impolite, it was me!“

As he says just that, he turns, points right at Baekhyun’s tomato red head peeking out from behind Sehun’s shoulders, and bows to him.

The whole cafeteria is witness, including Lee Soo Man.

And SHINee, who will have gossip material for five weeks because of this. Key is already taking notes.

And BoA — who’s giggling because she’s seen it all in the business and knows exactly what’s going on with Baekhyun and you. Oh. Lord.

Baekhyun wants to sink into the ground right then and there. He’s been found out again. Of course he has to step out from his lair now and bow back to Mark, take the blame and explain the whole incident all over, and comfort him with a string of appeasing words. Which he hates for four reasons at the same time. He embarrassed Mark, himself, disturbed you the way he bumped into your back, and now you saw him hiding from… precisely you. Little does he know you did, too.

Baekhyun quickly retreats to sit next to Sehun once again after Mark has calmed down and he, being the senior as always, has performed another 180° bow to you in front of the entire staff and idol audience, causing his oversized shirt to slip downward, way to his armpits.

Goodness gracious.

BoA is this close to shouting „get a room“ upon seeing Baekhyun stand in front of you with his stomach all bare until he has hastily tucked his shirt back into this place. Fast as it happens, you can’t hide your reaction face.

Chanyeol, sitting at a nearby table, does a telling reaction noise himself, and you can tell he’s read the situation to a T. Even worse, he’s whistling. You can fool a lot of people, but not Park „Radar“ Chanyeol. He’s a himbo incarnate, but this guy’s emotional intelligence is too damn strong, and he knows Baekhyun inside out. Oh shit, man.

The next ten minutes are fraught with a weird, sonorous mumbling in the room. Lee Soo Man doesn’t really get it, thank God. But the meaning of Baekhyun silently cowering behind Sehun while eating his kimchi stew is more than obvious to half of the people around. Baekhyun never fucking acts like this, even when he’s sad.

It’s like something is pushing the two of you into humiliating situations like that ever since you started to work at SM since last May. Literally Baekhyun can’t stop apologizing to you all day because he’s suddenly clumsy or the strangest situations happen.

Nope, he doesn’t do it on purpose. But yes, he finds himself enjoying your attention. So what is he going to do? This keeps being stuck on his mind. Especially because half of EXO, NCT, and SuperM is asking him what the hell is going on in three raging group chats at once.

And you? I don’t have to tell you how it feels like when Baekhyun stumbles over to squarely plant his cutesy baby face into your back. Firmly wrapping his hands around your waist on top of that not to fall over entirely. That feeling is locked into your muscle memory. And now, seeing him stripped down for the fourth time already? Goodbye to your sleep.

Special thanks to a jittery Mark for making this first hug I mean collision out of nowhere happen. Just to be sure: Mark really didn’t spill his coffee on purpose, nor did Baekhyun want to bump into you this hard. And we know Mark’s reflexes are usually fast enough to save the day. But he was about to host his first variety show all by himself, so you can imagine how shaky and distracted he was. And nobody will resent him — this is only all about you and Baekhyun… being the most repressed motherfuckers.

Baekhyun constantly almost-crashing into you somewhere or basically crawling on the ground before you makes for a second very shaky guy. What the hell is pulling him towards you wherever he goes? It’s even worse than Minseok moving one inch and accidentally smacking Baekhyun in the face.

It just goes on and on.

Following the second cafeteria embarrassment, the next Friday after lunch, you run into each other at the ground floor elevator exit so you would drop your fries. Yeah, extra crispy ones, with the best mayonnaise. Baekyhun has been feeling so guilty about his curse at this point that he orders extra fries for you at the cafeteria two times a week with his card. Which makes Chanyeol know dear Eros struck particularly hard. Because if he didn’t care, Baekhyun would pay it five times a week like he does for NCT every now and then. But if he does it only two times, something is at stake. He doesn’t want it to be apparent.

Baekhyun can’t even look you in the eye when he puts them on your tray. Instead, he quickly bows three times in a row and then disappears. This guy is a small puddle of blush.

Lee Soo Man cites him into his room to say what’s wrong soon, but all Baekhyun can blurt out is that he didn’t sleep well and the comeback song won’t get into his head. Which is not a direct lie, so.

Whatever you do, Baekhyun appears out of the blue and falls to your feet. Only two days later, he returns from shooting an MV and slips right in front of your office. Pretty much because his feet stumble over his own pants. You put the paperwork aside and check what the hell is going on outside. A dizzy Baekhyun straight-up hit his head at your door. He declines you helping him up because he knows that your touch is probably gonna make him fully insane. He walks around with a forehead patch during the comeback stage and people online think it’s the latest trend.

Somebody save this man.

The universe just keeps on arranging the silliest things to make shit happen, huh.

At this point, Baekhyun developing a full-blown apprentice crush is as obvious as Lucas being tall.

Now, the reality is. This man is Hitch, the Date Doctor. He notoriously handles crowds, can get along with anyone he’s put together with on camera, helps the other members to juggle their love life whenever they have a problem. Chen is probably a married man because of Baekhyun in one way or another. He isn’t really shy normally in his own words. But when it comes to his own crushes — classic case of everybody’s cupid who gives good advice they would need the most.

That Baekhyun is helpless with anything that digs beneath the surface of his usual interactions will show to you very soon. There’s tough Baekhyun, there’s cute Baekhyun, and then there’s an utterly speechless little bean who has an internal meltdown when you do as much as take the stairs together. The difference is staggering. He’s fidgety, tense, makes himself even smaller and first and foremost: Is impressionable to an extreme.

In short: Baekhyun has fully converted into a fake maknae.

It’ll show in staff meeting conversations on trivial things about the schedule that he wing-mans everybody but himself when shit hits the fan. He stutters in your presence. Baek’s a mess. Chanyeol takes Baekhyun to the side and raises his brows at him at least five times a day, as in wanting to say: „Are you ever going to do something about it?“

Baekhyun dodges the answer each time and preoccupies himself with social media. Fans will later say that he hasn’t uploaded as many Twitter replies, Youtube videos, and Instagram snapshots in his whole career. And Baekhyun is already quite active online so you can tell how much he’s spamming.

Secretly… hoping you see his online activity. Which you do.

You’ve memorized his five latest vlogs down to the cute little sound noises he’s making. Still, you hide behind the cupboard, and he is hiding behind an unsuspecting Johnny. Because Sehun is already grumbling about becoming a human shield, and Chanyeol would tease Baekhyun to the hell and back whenever you’re around.

Why does all of that happen? Why is he trying to escape?

The answer is, Baekhyun feels an overpowering respect towards you. He doesn’t know where it’s coming from, it’s something you exude. To the point where he isn’t able to clown you the way he does with others. It’s literally that bad.

On top of that, Baekhyun is frustrated that whatever extroversion he can switch on during broadcasts, fan meets, and with the other members is suddenly failing him. He tries hard to fall back to his usual humor, but you being around makes him act much more erratic. And, surprisingly reserved, believe it or not.

Eye contact will make him break whatever character he’s trying to tune into for the sake of keeping it together. The exact opposite will happen. All the blushing and boiling hot sweat gives him away. Your own heated af face he doesn’t even notice.

In his mind, he’s going through any possible way of mannerisms to get your attention all while not embarrassing himself. He gives confident SuperM leader Baekhyun a shot, comedian Baekhyun, too, and he will don a pokerfaced version of himself as a last option whenever you are close.

All unsuccessfully. He can’t keep the façade for long; he knows he’s acting strange and inconsistent that way. Do you even realize what you merely sitting in the same practice room is doing to this guy?

As you can tell…

It’s up to you to hit on him. Finding an unmistakable balance between being breathtakingly forward and overly subtle. The right way to ask him out is somewhere in between. The way you gauge it, Baekhyun is turned off by all kinds of brazen approaches, but doesn’t want to be nudged with satin gloves and feathers either.

However, you end up playing too lowkey at first try because you’re just as nervous. You think, maybe it’s good to find out how interested in me he will admit he is. Which, given how much he tries to conceal his feelings, turns out to be a difficult idea.

And — Isn’t is crystal clear he likes you a whole lot by the way he tries to retreat from everyone but you? Recently, fleeing to stand behind Lucas. Who has the most hiding surface and won’t question what Baekhyun is doing there all the time, unlike Johnny.

So, how do you learn that your plan is a bad idea? You try to involve yourself in NCT’s Friday night truth-or-dare where Baekhyun always joins to mess with everyone.

But that weekend, he interestingly excuses himself to „practice English, it’s urgent!“. Off he goes as soon as he sees that you are part of the lineup, looking like he’s seen a ghost.

So, that mission failed. You get Taeyong, Haechan, and Yuta twerking against you at the same time while wearing sailor moon outfits as a dare instead.

However: You still learned something from this. The way that even Haechan’s wild gyrating and arguably great ass did not have a single effect on you tells you that you really want someone else really damn bad. Hell, if Yuta Nakamoto winds against you and you feel nothing—

And, something else has become apparent to you.

Professional he is, Baekhyun establishes rapport even with people he dislikes or feels neutral about, but when his more vulnerable feelings are in the game, he runs from them.

Beside Chanyeol and BoA, you’re smart enough to begin seeing what clockwork ticks inside of him. When Baekhyun doesn’t try to get close to someone that’s around him so frequently, something is mighty wrong and his opinion about that someone must be an intense one. And it’s not because he hates that person, the opposite is the case.

He’s almost less afraid of you than his worries of ruining it.

But through what, you’re wondering, seriously.

On the other hand, you get why Baekhyun keeps a viable distance. He knows it’s difficult to be associated with him in the way he wishes you were. Since people were looking at him and you so strange in the cafeteria, he even stopped practicing in the after hours.

Two weeks later, he even quits buying you fries for lunch and eats in the recording studio instead. Chanyeol remains correct: Much is at stake.

After the truth-or-dare fail, you sit down in sobriety and go through your options. You get all sorts of grand ideas to reveal your feelings, but dismiss the majority of it. You have to start small, really small. This needs the utmost care. Especially because you don’t want to compromise him by accident any further, nor are you anywhere near as ballsy as you believe someone hitting on Byun Baekhyun needs to be.

Truth be told: BoA would kick your ass for thinking that. And letting so many opportunities pass, as if you aren’t beating yourself up for it enough. Idol mode Baekhyun, well, he would be hard to approach indeed. But what is currently going on… he’s literally showing you his underbelly. He’s begging you to do something.

That he avoids even the lightest touch: More than telling to BoA’s knowing eye. He would be so easy to sway with just one sentence. She knows that at this point, Baekhyun is desperate. His yes would come so fast. You’re far from having faith in this. But you still try. You want this man.

Eventually, you rack your brain for anything understated you could do.

Then, you get the idea.

After a schedule briefing, Baekhyun recently said he dearly wishes he could eat fried noodles in the early evening because he’s craving something savory, meanwhile flashing a split-second glance at you. Maybe… You can discreetly bridge the gap by getting him food.

You’re part responsible for doing things like that in the company already so nobody will question you driving around with your little motorbike.

If you think about it: That’s a good excuse to approach him frequently and visit his apartment. The move is calculated, but it’s what the situation requires. You can’t tell how Baekhyun will react, but if he looked at you this way, it’s worth a shot.

And so, you dare the impossible. You show up with a deliberately small portion of noodles after the last comeback stage, knock twice. He does open. You’re frozen up.

Uttering a hopefully neutral „You said you wanted this. I’ll also bring it tomorrow if you want,“ and then drive off again without even waiting for a reply from a very surprised-looking Baekhyun in PJs.

Sweating like crazy, thank God your helmet and the upcoming dark of the night was hiding your red cheeks. Shit man, that was robotic as fuck! is what you’re thinking for the entire ride home. Another fail, you sure won’t return tomorrow. Now you can’t look him in the eye, either.

Meanwhile:

The meal not only saves the day of Baekhyun’s usually very lackluster diet mood that comes out when he is by himself. It also makes him flustered and grateful, curling up on his couch. He couldn’t even remotely try to say no out of politeness or concerns for his food plan. Baekhyun breaks the chopsticks right away after closing the door. Today, his dog’s with him. Mongryong excitedly jumps up and down next to Baekhyun. Your visit was short and sweet, but it made two beans very happy.

In fact, he rips open the box and shoves a quarter of the content into his mouth in the blink of an eye. It’s not just how hungry he is. He’s also overwhelmed that you came to his house. He feels like it’d be the highest level of disrespect to throw it away to begin with, no matter how spartan his eating habits are supposed to be.

He almost views this little take-out box as a part of you. He imagines how you listened to him talk, decided to drop by, bought it with your own money, and carried it all the way to him. All that extra effort and attention he spins back and forth in his head for the whole next week.

And, on the spot, Baekhyun is so taken aback that he starts deep cleaning his apartment at midnight as soon as he finishes his noodles.

To your own initial shock, he also drops an envelope with money under your office door the next day. And you thought someone was sending threats.

You get the underlying message, though. This is something just between the two of you, and the envelope is a yes. For another meal. Actually, more than that. There are 30 sorted bills in it, each to buy one box since he knows where you get the food from and what the standard price is.

Payment for one month in advance. Meetings for one month in advance. This fucker.

And you thought your sweaty scene at his apartment left him confused or weirded out. Nope, he decided he wants this times thirty. Something you have to let sink in.

The next day you drive along at the same time, there’s nobody there.

Because Baekhyun has left the door open. Now you can’t just speed away again. Nor do you really want to, for God’s sake.

After putting your helmet down in the small entrance room, you find an anxiously waiting Baekhyun on the extremely cleaned up living room couch, sitting there with fidgeting feet like it’s a porn casting.

The tension could kill. You put the box on the table before him like it’s England’s Crown Jewels. You want to calm him down so desperately, but don’t know how.

Given his sparkly eyes set on the food, that he wants to devour what you brought him right away is not hard to overlook. But he still seems hesitant. Insecure. Baekhyun doesn’t manage to say a full word which is the most surreal thing. You work up your voice and pass him the chopsticks in their paper packaging. „Pig out. You didn’t eat since 7AM.“

Again, he breaks the chopsticks. Trying hard not to do it too fast.

You sit opposite to him and revert back to professional mode. Talking about statistics from the comeback that Baekhyun hummingly acknowledges the way he does when you talk to EXO in meetings.

He stuffs himself like his life depends on it. No stable eye contact from him.

Both of you know that it’s not what you want to say. But even ten minutes in: Nothing about the cafeteria, the fries, the envelope, the topless incident, the forehead patch, nothing. Just you going on about details from work and him listening, nodding, chewing, making brief little remarks and using all his standard corporate phrases. „Ah, yes, EXO surely benefits from that.“ But it’s a start. You begin small.

So far, so good. With every evening, the conversation becomes more and more two-sided and the meals bigger. A second envelope soon enters your office, covering the extra costs for the XXL boxes, your fuel, and another month worth of meals. Note: Only one and a half weeks in.

Fuck, you got yourself into something big. Is it because his dog likes you?

You are starting to like babying him like that, even if you both keep it serious. Unusually so, but at least you don’t get into any more accidents with that suspense off your either shoulders.

It’s not like that cute little face would leave you any chance in the first place. Baekhyun smiles shyly around you. His big laugh is sweeping, but the small things… lethal. Absolutely lethal.

His manager doesn’t like it, but his genius idol’s mochi factor is increasing since you bring him spicy, richer foods. Baekhyun declines most snacks he’s offered at work, hardly eats up at the cafeteria and gives it to Foodcas Xuxi instead, and even the stylists wished he would gain more weight without any results in their convincing acts. But when you bring him a large portion of extra al dente spaghetti or — as of recently — self-made black bean noodles, Baekhyun would consider it rude not to follow the call of the carbs.

Interesting.

He eats even more aggressively when he knows you made the food yourself.

Quickly enough, he pays either for take-out or ingredients meant for not one, but two people. You usually eat a little earlier than he does, but you would not trade the best luxury meal in the world eaten by yourself with being together in Baekhyun’s flat. To the average Joe, this would be the biggest hassle, but to you… there’s no way you can get enough of being around him so privately. You enjoy taking the time to buy food for him. Taking the time in general.

You’re not the only one.

I don’t have to tell you how Baekhyun has to fight getting a vicious hard-on with sitting opposite to you with your motorcycling jacket peeled down to the hip, right inside a staring-not staring-staring-not staring match while you both slurp on your noodle soup pretending to be apprentice and idol.

It’s… bizarre. And hot. And bizarre. And frustrating.

You both don’t know where to take all of this. You end up making it a rock-solid daily routine, but not going any further than that because you are afraid. The excuse: Never change a running system.

In the meantime, Baekhyun works out even more. Not to compensate for the calories or to get rid of the increasingly chubby cheeks. Nope, it’s to impress you and show his fitness, plain and simple. At times, the music once again blasts in the practice room after everyone left. You come in to clear the room with Baekhyun in one of his very tight tank tops.

You greet each other softly smiling. The familiarity really does begin to show. While you sort and organize, he writes you a little note on what to get for food tonight. He scribbles a little „:3“ emoji underneath.

You think about that for at least two hours before you drive to his apartment.

So, yeah. Something is going on with him regardless of both of you trying to keep your routine stable and CIA-level secret.

He finds himself cringeworthy when he carries seven stacked up chairs to a group meeting at once just because you’re attending. But something in him can’t help it, for the love of God. At least in this regard, he thinks, something is running on autopilot in terms of flirting methods. Meaning, he really does hide less and less.

Meanwhile, Lucas’ eyes are falling out because Baekhyun is mustering new levels of strength nobody suspected he had. In the most random situations, even. Baekhyun’s fitness trainer is also living one hell of a life because his protégée is so eager these days. Mastering everything from weights to pilates. Hormones are one hell of a drug.

Kai frequently remarks that Baekhyun is different. „He’s nagging much less, what’s going on, why, why!“ he says to Taemin on the regular, and they invent all kinds of theories.

Since Baekhyun doesn’t want to miss out on your daily evening visit nor spend 8 hours in the gym, that means: He increases the intensity of the work-outs. For two and a half weeks, he is completely knocked out afterwards.

And so… it happens.

Baekhyun falls asleep before your visit. The door he has opened beforehand as always, but you enter a dim room with dozing Baekhyun splayed on the bed in his red carpet outfit from earlier that day. He worked out in the morning, did some hosting, talked his soul out in an interview, attended an award show, drove home, and eventually collapsed in the sheets. Lights out.

You put the rice box and cake slice you brought along on his desk. He looks so cute when he dozes, but you also hate disturbing his sleepy angel hours. Especially because you know how worn-out his schedule has left him and you feel sorry for it.

You feel weird for standing there with your take-out and want to hurry outside as fast as possible, but leave a note.

For the first time in weeks, you eat dinner in your own flat.

After forcefully waking up at 3AM due to his usual sleep cycle being off balance, Baekhyun falls into a spiral of regrets. Once it dawns on him what time it is and he must have missed your visit, he buries his face in his palms sitting at the edge of the bed.

He resents himself for neither cleaning up his bedroom properly nor staying awake even more so, no matter how eventful his day was. He imagines how you must have seen him sleep, probably in the most humiliating, unflattering position and with terrible hair, judging him for being rude, forgetful, unattractive, messy, and probably a thousand other things.

Until… he finds the note. That one gives him a second almost-heart attack, but an adrenaline-fueled one this time. He stumbles back onto his bed and reads it twenty times over.

„Rest well and dig in. Don’t worry. Text if you’re okay. 03304 68010113.“

After three typos in your number, almost choking on cold rice because he eats so passionately, and several minutes of going back and forth on sending something, he kicks his own ass and writes a little „I’m ok, I’m very very sorry! I’m an idiot 😭“. After you reply that he has no reason to apologize, he rambles on about how he wishes that he’s not being an inconvenience to you with a whole row of sad and dejected emojis.

You hate that Baekhyun feels put on the spot and obliged because of you this way and try to think hard about how to solve the dilemma. You won’t try to stop the rain of his apologies by telling him to calm down because you know it’ll make it worse, and instead decide it’s time to get going.

The opportunity is now, and there’s only one.

‚So, I have an idea—“

Going to the groovy little underground pizza restaurant downtown is something that Baekhyun immediately accepts as a suggestion. He wants to compensate for his dozing, but he also knows that this is a whopping chance more than anything.

And… a covert first date.

He knows that’s what it is. It’s about leveling up now.

Before you can write that you’ll treat him and he can relax, he gets firm with insisting that you will pay not a single dime. You know that it’s not just his overworking conscience speaking. It’s also the only way Baekhyun gets an occasion to express that he takes this very seriously via text.

That he wants to repay you and aims to get the most out of meeting up is something you realize when he steps out of the wardrobe room the next evening after everyone in the company has gone home.

The stylists he has told that he needs to try this particular outfit on for some time to get used to it. „I need to dance in this, so.“

Actually, it is meant for EXO performing at the Oscars next week, but he got away with the excuse and a promise to take care.

And… he really did the rest of the styling all by himself. He’s turned into a glamorous neat freak. Every shiny hair glued into its desired place, freshly dyed honey blonde with soft brunette roots.

In fact, who walks at you is a wholly different Baekhyun in a dark, reddish-violet satin suit, pointy black shoes, matte black tie, mature sultry eye shadow, black square sunglasses pushed up into his hair, his signature lipstick, with a distinct statement tote bag, and black lace socks. I repeat: Lace. This is the fanciest anybody has ever headed to eat $6.50 pizza at a tube station. I mean wow, just wow. The tailored shoulders and how tight the tux cinches in at the waist is on par with Kai’s Obsession crop top.

Even the much more expensive award show outfit from last week looks like a potato sack compared to how much he dolled himself up and reinvented literally every inch about himself. Like you have to prevent yourself from drooling.

Yep. He. Means. Business.

Funnily enough, Baekhyun realizes his zeal and just how much he is trying to impress you at all costs when you turn up with your standard khaki trench coat, bunny print umbrella, and casual white sneakers that have seen World War 1 and 2. You know, just the way you always come to his apartment and the way it’s inconspicuous.

Going by his face… he starts to overthink his esteem. You can see how his expression becomes mortified. You promptly decide to put an end to his self-conscious back and forth through taking him by the hand.

„You’re the best-looking man in the world and I’m asking you for a date. Are you comin’ or are you not?“

You then make it particularly clear to him that if anything, this right in front of you is very much authentic Baekhyun and not someone else you’re in for after all. And, that you’re both in your genuine form tonight the way it’s gotta be, the way you know each other and the reason why you decided to do this. Boom.

Four-step Greek style sermon for tonight: Delivered.

Now he’s gaping at you too much to beat himself up. That mission is very much accomplished. Modern problems apparently require ancient rhetoric. You’re in a kick-ass mood tonight. I dunno, anybody would be, Baekhyun’s accentuated sense of style has the historic potential to make girls reckless.

Baekhyun’s hand is heated like an Icelandic geyser and his heartbeat rate would make the average rabbit look like an amateur. Believe it or not — it’s the first time you’re deliberately touching. It’s ridiculous.

You head to the company garage, he churns out five jokes in a row on how he must look like a Korean Elton John on the way to his best-of concert, you laugh… Baekhyun feels better. Three times as nervous compared to when you usually come to his flat, but better nevertheless. And he drives, so.

He feels like he’s catching up and giving something back, no matter that you feel he doesn’t have to, but to him, it’s important.

You joke back to him how it’s a little bit funny — Elton John pun intended — that you saw every inch of Baekhyun’s apartment at this point already but this is the first date. The world is upside down, but it’s SM Entertainment, so. Things get started in different ways, but they do.

That realization is getting to him, too. Baekhyun’s peacock alter ego emerges to bolt over the motorway like a lovedrunk Lewis Hamilton with a foot glued to the gas pedal, but also checks fifty times for how you feel in the passenger seat. Asking about how you like it, if the A/C is set to how you want it, whether your seat is tilted the way you enjoy it. Damn, he really is on edge.

On top of that, said alter ego maneuvers him right into a 3-kilometer outer ring traffic jam before his innocent self even realizes it. More time to chat… more time to sit so close… more time you get to savor the comfort of his luxurious car. So that was a Freudian slip with a steering wheel right there.

You already know that Baekhyun has never tried as hard to make somebody like him. You compliment his taste in cars vice versa to take that pressure off before he turns into a nervous wreck entirely. And then, also adding that you could get used to this which makes Baekhyun feel like a billion Won. His eyes are downcast, his cheeks are beaming. Figures, light superpowers and such, we know the deal.

Meanwhile, that you really like him already and for a long time is something you challenge yourself to make more than apparent to him. If he’s still this desperate about pleasing you and unsure about how he comes across, there’s some work to do. This guy needs a sign. A football field-sized one. If Baekhyun’s demon is his self-worth tonight, yours is being a lot more demonstrative. You’ve been far too indirect with him all day every day.

That you’re outside of both your professional spheres actually helps: Big fucking time.

Easing him into a conversation happens surprisingly smooth when you recount visiting his apartment and seeing him sleep so beautifully. Which you say was the most gratifying thing which is the truth. It’s been on his mind, hearing about your relief makes a lot of things plague him less.

You also add how you enjoy bringing him food just because. That he’s nice and good company, even when he sleeps. That assures Baekhyun and makes him laugh.

And yes. He ends up serenading you throughout the entire traffic jam. And yes. When Baekhyun is in love, his singing is particularly on point. You can hear the cherry on top in his registers. No need for the stereo, you can ask him to sing any song you like.

The traffic jam disperses after 20 minutes, Baekhyun has interpreted your entire favorite playlist at this point. Arriving feels like way too soon.

You put your trench coat over Baekhyun while he exits the car. There’s hardly anyone around in this part of the town but who knows, making sure not to mess up his hair in the process. Both of you hurry to the stairs leading underground. Meanwhile, the car is parked quite stealthily behind a closed-down fish restaurant with dusty windows.

It feels good to walk around with Baekhyun right by your side.

The surroundings are cluttered with trash and only few people wait at the tube station that opens up before you with every step downwards. It’s actually perfect as a getaway. There are mostly older businessmen on shift at first glance.

It’s colder out in the open and surrounded by surfaces of concrete, the car was like a spa by comparison. Baekhyun takes the initiative to put the trench coat back onto your shoulders. You feel flattered and you smile at each other, and walk on with synchronized steps. The pizza bar is almost within sight. In the meantime, the digital board announces the tube arriving in five minutes. He takes your hand.

And then… some real bullshit goes down.

A group of seven scraggly-looking teens lounge on a bench, roughly 200 meters before the pizza bistro. You have to pass the bench close-by given how narrow the walking space next to the train tracks is.

One of them, the tallest of the bunch, coarsely shouts at you. „How much did that prostitute cost and where does he keep his money, huh?“ He sticks his wriggling tongue out right along. The others are ogling Baekhyun’s shoes and chest pockets, preying and laughing and sneering. It dawns on you that you should’ve asked for one more song in the car.

The mood tips. One of the boys sitting on the left side of the bench starts fiddling with a 3-inch switchblade. And then, something flicks the switch inside you, too. Your Kyoong-protect-o-meter goes through the roof faster than Baekhyun can get his car to the speed limit.

Cue She-Hulk transformation. In an onslaught of your inner wrestling diva claiming her rights, you take matters into your own hands by hurling Baekhyun’s glitzy designer bag at the guy’s surprised face. Sorry Versace, it had to be done. The whole group gasps out loud. While they’re still caught off guard, you go on to lunge forward and furiously whack greasy knife guy and two other approaching attackers with your Roger fucking Rabbit umbrella using a windmill-motion martial arts technique you came up with from scratch. Baekhyun doesn’t even have to duck… being smol has its advantages.

The switchblade is sent flying into a bin. Point landing. You proceed to rip into the group to helicopter your improvised weapon in circles until it threatens to plow down the better of them and they back away squealing and pleading. Britney would be so damn proud of you, I’m telling ya.

Needless to say, the mortally terrified group runs and disperses into the arriving tube, probably booking their therapist appointments for Monday morning already. You pick up the bag for Baekhyun a little breathless, dust it off, and say a prayer. Holy shit.

What the hell just happened. Literally, what the fucking fuck.

An entirely wide-eyed Baekhyun still can’t believe that a whole group of sleazy guys twice as tall as him took an unhinged windmill beating by you to prevent a robbery, and meanwhile he is the martial arts champion. Like, hello? He’s been a Hapkido instructor with several gold medals. How many black belts does the guy have again? He could mow down fifty of that kind and pulverize anyone of them with a mere NCT-style kick. This is ridiculous. He’s mighty impressed.

A few businessmen at the station are looking at you from afar with open mouths. You wave and give a thumbs up signalling all is okay. The security personnel reviewing the CCTV the next day is down for a ride. You hope that there are no headlines with pictures of this. Tube brats get their ass busted by cartoon bunny at 2:15 AM. K-Pop star Baekhyun defended by mysterious umbrella wielder gone wild.

You take a deep breath, brush off your coat. „Um. Moving on I guess.“ Then, interlink arms with Baekhyun, strolling on toward the restaurant. Looking around everywhere, still a little shocked. Walking off your relief helps, as is looking forward to eating. Damn, you do outrageous things when you’re hungry.

The restaurant is the size of the practice room at best, lit with white neon and decorated with Italian flags in every corner. The empty seats are designed like in an American diner from the 80s.

The lanky six-foot-something waiter, Luigi Roberto Maranello Salvatore (his nameplate is really in-depth about this), hurries to the door when he sees how Baekhyun is dressed and probably thinks the King of Korea just arrived. Which he, in fact, did, but that’s beside the point.

You sit at the very back and get comfortable after breaking your last sweat. An enthusiastic Luigi presents to you the latest ‚delicious couple menu options’ and promises to use the best toppings he can offer. You instantly trust him, Luigi has the most accurate mustache you’ve ever seen.

Baekhyun and you share a huge plate of the curiously named ‚Pizza Puppy Love‘ that might be better described as a circle-shaped late night gala buffet. You dig in because damn, fighting thugs makes hungry, and Baekhyun stuffs himself given how it’s his favorite meal. Luigi sees that you are avid eaters and way too busy looking at each other, so he disappears in the kitchen, proud of setting the mood just perfectly.

In the meantime, Baekhyun says that he thinks of hiring you as a sasaeng protection machine. You muse how the umbrella is sturdier than you thought and you wouldn’t hesitate to use it again now that you think about it. Being Baekhyun’s Jarvis is not a bad thought, actually. Beating up rascals for him is your newly discovered love language.

In fact: Whatever took over inside of you and made you lose your chill, Baekhyun is mighty curious about. He thinks that was very sexy. You get the feeling that this guy could like dangerous women. He might have picked that up from Taemin, credits to him.

After Baekhyun has dramatically recounted the umbrella incident at least five times, the conversation goes on about your embarrassing hiding stories, how hilariously over- and underdressed you are as a unit, and you teasing him about „speeding on the highway, are we“. Baekhyun teases you back about how you acted like his manager with your trench coat over his head. He kind of has a point and you call it a tie.

Seeing Baekhyun all full with his beloved pizza and acting so carefree in his Oscar suit is a cute sight. You take the liberty to cut a particularly large slice out of the puppy pizza UFO and feed him.

If it’s a couple menu, you gotta act like it.

Baekhyun is making some mighty heart eyes at you, and so — you decide to take it a little further. This whole fight thing made you forget you’re on a goddamn date after… a whole year of eyefucking and that it’s about time to close the gap.

Luigi is wholly busy making order in the kitchen and Baekhyun has some tomato sauce stuck at the side of his mouth. Convenient. You take the chance to wipe it off with the tip of your right digit.

He realizes what you’re doing and promptly grabs your hand to keep it right where it is. Uh-oh. His tongue darts out, he licks right across your finger. To top it off, he starts to suck it, too. With a typical nonchalance. Seeing how you almost combust, he takes another finger into his hot mouth. And sucks a little more. His lipstick smudges onto your hand. His eyes are like hot coals and the pupils are all blown. Oh my, my, my.

If you’re just playing, don’t you ever give Baekhyun anything to escalate on like that, ever. The way you were ready to knock down the seven guys, he is ready to get physical once the first step is done. Though, the thing is. You’re not playing. It’s exactly the type of fodder that you’ve been craving to give him. Baekhyun’s oral fixation is something else.

The rest of the pizza is gone in five minutes…

…and Luigi gets the tip of his life.

You walk to the car in much faster steps than before. Even if it’s later than late, nobody is around anymore except a sleeping beggar on the other side of the station. No danger in sight whatsoever. There’s a different reason to get going like that this time and there’s no way you can mentally prepare yourself for what’s coming.

Back to the fish restaurant, back to the car spa. Nobody on the streets, anywhere. This night, Baekhyun does not feel even remotely tired, though.

After you put your umbrella in the trunk — you will honor it much more from now on — the driver’s and passenger’s seat stay empty for half an hour and a little more. Now, the actual stereo is on. There’s a lot to catch up with on the backseat.

Baekhyun puts Delight on repeat, and queues City Lights just because. Guy knows what good music and singing sounds like. You interlock hands and call him pretty. Baekhyun is flustered, but all the more eager.

It takes barely a minute until you get serious with making out on top of him and grind on his lap like the world ends. The satiny fabric is too tempting not to gyrate all over it in your jeans. Lord knows his legs are great. You know what you signed up for. Those thighs are so delicious to straddle, you can’t even imagine.

Baekhyun gazes at you so intently and ready, whispering his little you-can-do-anythings and tell-me-all-you-wants, it’s like magic.

To top it off, kissing his little pouty lips has got to be the best thing, running your hands through his sexy hair — even more so. Your mouth and fingers have been begging you to do this. Begging.

From there, your hands go places. His neatly razored nape of the neck, his waist, the chest. His suit, all that expensive fabric, his gentle skin, it’s so nice to the touch. He smells so hot. Bergamot, cinnamon, and sweet, deep, rich and soothing sandalwood. „Girl, I’m your Candy“ gets a whole new meaning. Practice room memories. As if you aren’t wet enough already.

By the last minute of the second track, Baekhyun is already hooked kissing your neck and does some very daring acrobatics with his tongue. And you thought the pizza would satiate him. Nope, he eats you up like a whole salad bowl of black bean noodles with three pounds kimchi and ten fried eggs stacked on top. In his own words I mean lyrics: Game over.

The desperation and nervosity adds even more sloppiness and hunger. These have got to be the lewdest slurping and sucking noises you’ve ever heard. You can’t help but curse the ugliest things. Something’s pretty damn hard through the front of his tux already.

Baekhyun feels that you feel it and the kissing becomes even more frantic. His whole body says: Grind more. Please. Please.

By the time the fourth track starts, Baekhyun’s entirely wet mouth wanders upward. Here goes the French kissing madness. You glide your hips back and forth on his bulge, and his tongue is already winding inside of you like it’s advanced singing lessons. It’s so unreal that you have to grab hold of his upper arms to stay in place. Shit, this guy.

You can tell that this… is his absolute forte. Nobody can fuck with Baekhyun when it comes to outrageous mouth and throat technique. Your tongue gets a sense of how confident he is in his lip service and works his way into it. Now you know how it feels when Byun Baekhyun pays back your attention. Holy Luigi’s Cannoli, he has so much fun. Way, way too much fun. Like Sir, this is a Wendy’s.

And that’s the last damn straw. Really, the last one. You can’t do this shit anymore. You ask for condoms.

After freezing up for at least ten seconds, he nods his little head about ten times in a row. It’s as if he can’t actually believe it and didn’t just kiss the shit out of you with the hardest dick in history.

„Okay, I’ll—“

Baekhyun keeps them in a yellow puppy-shaped bag under the driver’s seat and takes three torturous minutes to get them from there since it’s underneath and behind other random things. Which means you get to look at his ass for said time because he is bent forward between the two front seats. It’s not like you’ve never seen Baekhyun from behind, but never this close nor in a suit as tight since he usually wears baggy things. So. He’s not just big in the front, then. For his build? That is Korea’s ass.

And the condoms? You expected they were in his tote or his suit within one reach and rip. Nope, Baekhyun did not leave the company building with intentions. He’s been managing this raging boner for a whole year and did not make any moves on you in his apartment where he could have had you on any available surface in two minutes. Baekhyun wasn’t close to even remotely ask for literally anything. He just sat there on the couch with restless legs, ruffled hair, and an open mouth while hearing you talk. You don’t want to imagine how intensely he must have gotten off. Which he, in fact, did.

He didn’t deliberately plan sex in a specific place for the first date either. Instead, he was prepared for— what exactly? A slight eventuality? Now that you think about it: Going by how he dressed himself, what Baekhyun probably thought he could get out of this was: A compliment. Even if all of your evening visits were nothing but hardcore sexual tension and this was the chance to bring that to an end. Let that sink in.

This guy’s self-control is not only astronomical, but also completely astounding given his usual character. In fact, you thought he would be entirely sovereign with this. How could he not? He’s Baekhyun!

Going by all that… You conclude that Baekhyun must really feel like he does not deserve you. His shame and self-denial must go through the roof. Given how his deeper insecurities have been in plain sight, it actually makes sense. Looks like you’re the one bringing them out, whatever it is that you do. It’s pretty tough knowing that you rouse something as vulnerable in him but it’s as good as it is bad. You find him very brave and incredible for letting it show. Honestly? It’s better than pushing through all of this pretending.

Plus — You really must have given him the impression that he can look but not ever touch. While that’s the entire opposite of what you want.

To be fair: Having Baekhyun openly touch you in the company would have been a dangerous act. Even more so than say, you touching him, (which would have been somewhat possible, look at stylists and managers casually or work-relatedly doing skinship). Because that means that the availability his profession suggests to the world is no longer a thing and his mind is set on one person. Which, in his field, is social death.

That’s why Baekhyun could only ever touch you by virtue of circumstances and whatever higher forces arranging accidents where he bumped into you. Talk about indirect ways. The universe gave you what you wanted, but in a way where there was always the excuse of bad luck and no possibility of other people finding out about your feelings. Risky love breeds risky circumstances.

The same with showing his body or knocking at your door to get your attention. He knows he can’t do that, can’t ask for it. So what happens? You accidentally walk in on him, or he crashes against your office entrance after slipping.

The same with treating you, spending time together, getting taken care of by you. Baekhyun found himself wishing for it. So it happened that you spilled your fries and he bought them for you all over, and he was begging for fried noodles so the opportunity to meet surprisingly came about. The accidents themselves both of you didn’t want nor deliberately stage, but you very much wanted the results of them. Directly you could not express your feelings, not even Baekhyun. That’s how it all came to be and now you see just how much he wants to be close to you in so many ways.

That he feels ashamed and undeserving — that shocks the living hell out of you.

So, all right then, keeper. Time to show you otherwise.

It’s crazy how he thinks you’re the one off limits and not him. Then again, he’s not the guy with the savage umbrella technique.

Since his hand is too shaky, you slip one on him and start to ride him without any further ado. You’re already leaking so what’s left to fiddle around about. No wasting any time here.

The deal is as good as sealed. He feels fucking great inside of you and his wide eyes are the most rewarding thing. Whatever dimension Baekhyun just broke through, the level of whipped is not possible to be described with any human words. His hands are roaming over you pretty much without aim, you can tell your body is too much for him.

After he’s begging you to do it roughly, you grab him by the collar and fuck his soul out until he’s all gasping because his dick hurts. The song’s called Are You Ridin’ with good reason.

Baekhyun’s brains are long screwed out at this point, if not reduced to absolute green and purple jello. Is there actually any mind to lose at this point after you had your fingers in his mouth? Like literally, his favorite thing? Probably not.

He bites down into his sleeve. Baekhyun is all knocked out by you by the time you get to your second orgasm, and reclines on the backseat bench to starfish the rest of the thing with his mouth hanging open at you. Hormone overload. His entire body shut down except the will to keep it up and not come. Yum, he is fit. Where he takes that godly strength from, only higher powers can tell. The Tree of Life, Zeus, Ten Chittaphon, I don’t know.

He just has the kind of dick you can really bounce on. Really. Fucking. Hard. You are one spark of insanity close to run on autopilot. I don’t think anybody’s growled like this on him before. Nor was Baekhyun’s cock this close to falling right off, ever.

This is not sex, it’s a crazy as fuck pounding, with Baekhyun on the verge of being blacked out with drool on his chin and his eyes rolling back. His fingers are absentmindedly trailing down your upper back and all he can utter is a small, yearning „please, please“ and gritting „don’t stop, please don’t stop…“ between his teeth. And hell, you have not a single reason to. Cue Captain America, I can do this all day.

When other people say smashing, whatever they’re referring to is not as smash as this. This must be the dirtiest, wettest slapping noise you’ve ever heard, and Baekhyun’s entirely uncontrolled moans will be forever etched into your memory. So melodic, so goddamn excited and desperate and all fucked out. He’s groaning so well, it’s like it’s meant for you.

By the third time you come, he’s crying and whining and has to cover his mouth not to scream out loud. You have no idea what your body is doing, but whatever it is, it’s taking Baekhyun out. Even you tire after some time, but you keep going. You imagine that every thrust is the meal and attention you wanna give to him.

That’s a lot of fucking and edging you get done in half an hour. Baekhyun’s tongue is hanging out afterwards and you went through a whopping three condoms. So much frustration finally released. Baekhyun’s gonna be emptier than Suho’s wallet after Sehun ordered a lifetime supply of bubble tea.

You squarely avoid oozing your own cum onto his backseat with one hand. Good lord that creampie would ruin everything if he didn’t wear a condom. You’ve come a long way since colliding in the cafeteria, not gonna lie.

And thank God you’re not fucking somewhere in the company and the Audi is close to soundproof because this guy is LOUD. You need some good eardrums to handle these moans. Unhinged is an understatement. If this becomes a contest outwhoring each other, he’d win by a landslide.

By the time you slip off, Baekhyun is on the verge to the dreamland, you milked every last drop out of him. Which means…

…you get to drive an expensive as fuck Audi through Seoul. Your beatdown with the tube thugs you try to refrain from boasting about, but this one you are tempted to brag about to yourself for the next week. Well, in your mind. Just a little bit. It’s a great car. And you feel giddy in your body all over. That’s what sex with Baekhyun does to you.

Seoul traffic is tame around this time. Half in his sleep, Baekhyun hums and sings on the driver’s seat. He’s all sober, but you made the guy act a lil’ drunk, huh. In his element, he talks and talks and talks and talks a little more. Then, does his tiny 'ㅅ' pup face and dozes for half the ride. Sleeping angel hours.

You can’t really scold him for passing out so fast in the slightest. As always, he went who knows how many extra miles just for you. That includes vowing to hand-wash his Oscars suit because it’s fucking ruined. Since the stylists are guaranteed to flame him, you send the fashion department a message how Baekhyun has to wear a different suit because he’s simply too dummy thick for this one, especially as far as the pants are concerned. Which is almost no lie and they will believe you.

Much like his name suggests, Baekhyun does go hundred. At his apartment, you basically have to carry him into the bedroom. He says he doesn’t want to sleep. But you won’t kiss him goodnight after you pull off your jacket without a strong word on how his health has to be priority. He gets the point when you say you wouldn’t have had a first date without Baekhyun dozing off before your evening visit.

Sweet baby Jesus, you’d still be awkwardly slurping noodles without Baekhyun’s faux pas. If you look back at it: It’s all a story of accidents that turn out beautiful.

Sleep being Baekhyun’s reset button, that’s the best thing to do in order to give the night a good conclusion. Being alone in his apartment together, you don’t have to discreet about sleeping next to him after setting the alarm clock.

Mark Lee’s piping hot Americano is the culprit for all of this, but you thank him.

----

#exo smut #baekhyun smut #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun hc #baekhyun headcanon #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun #exo imagine #exo scenario #exo hc #baekhyun scenario #exo headcanon #baekhyun reaction #bbh #baekhyun angst #baekhyun crack

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spaceskam · 4 years ago

Text

the impossible replication of desire

Summary: Body sharing fic!

Warnings: panic attacks, their trauma (Alex has a dream of Michael’s exorcism & a dream of Jesse Manes’ abuse, super easy to skip), angst, happy ending

ao3

Alex was tired.

His steps were heavy as he climbed the stairs of his porch, heading towards the front door of the cabin. All the lights were off, but that didn’t mean anything. Michael’s truck was out front. He was home.

Home. Alex nearly flinched at his own thoughts, carefully unlocking the door in slow motion before pressing in the code on the keypad for the third lock. This wasn’t Michael’s home and he wasn’t Michael’s family. He made that clear more than enough times, but Alex’s home was open to him and so was the security of his bunker. It was all Michael’s if he wanted it and therefore here he was.

After not only being taken by his father, but discovering his house practically ransacked, Alex put his house up for sale and moved into the cabin. A chunk of money he got from the sale was spent on security systems. It was more difficult to break into than the White House now.

He knew Michael would be here. He felt safe coming home and knowing he would be there, all of the notifications from his security system and the easy access to his security cameras letting him know long before he could see his truck there for himself. It was nice.

Still, the house was dark as Alex let himself in and then locked the door back behind him, throwing on the chain latch for extra measure. There was light coming from the bunker, but other than that it was just as he left it.

“Did you eat dinner?” Alex called down to the bunker, flicking on the light to the living room to drop his stuff down. He then moved to the kitchen, turning on the light in there and opening the refrigerator. It was basically the same, only restocked with water bottles. He’d thank Michael for that later. “I guess not.”

Alex yawned and pulled out a frozen bag of vegetables from the freezer, turning the oven on to pre-heat. He moved as if on autopilot as he walked past the bunker and towards his bedroom. It was a little weird that Michael hadn’t responded, but maybe he was finishing something up. Alex changed into something more comfortable even while leaving his prosthetic on. He’d take that off later.

“Guerin? Did you fall asleep down there?” Alex asked when he emerged from his room and Michael was still nowhere to be seen. A familiar wave of anxiety shot through his system, his stomach tensing with nausea as he immediately assumed the worst. Which was stupid because he was probably just wearing headphones.

Convincing himself not to worry, Alex put a layer of tinfoil on a pan and then poured the frozen vegetables onto it before putting it in the oven. Then he went and sat on the couch while he waited for it to cook. His phone, however, couldn’t keep his attention as his eyes kept drifting to the bunker. Michael was okay. He was safe in Alex’s bunker. He was just listening to music or too in the zone. There were a billion reasons why we didn’t answer.

“Dinner’s ready!” Alex called when twenty minutes passed and he pulled the food out of the oven. He listened quietly‒no response. “Michael?”

Deciding that he could use the excuse of dinner and it was his house, Alex went to the opening of the bunker. He held on and carefully started climbing down the latter. He hated how many times he would look down to check his foot placement, though he could easily blame the fatigue for his anxiety.

“Michael, what are you‒”

Alex froze as he turned to the work table. Michael stood by it, eyes wide, lips parted, and his hand a new piece of alien tech Alex didn’t recognize. He looked catatonic and Alex could feel his heart thumping in his ears.

“Michael?” he asked, taking a cautious step closer. No reaction, not even a blink or anything. “Hey. Hey, are you alright?”

Alex slowly walked closer and gently touched his shoulder. He didn’t move. Alex swallowed hard, slowly counting down from three mentally to keep himself calm.

“I’m going to take your hands off of this and then I’m going to call Isobel. You’re alright,” Alex said out loud, more for himself than Michael.

He carefully touched Michael’s wrists and he was abnormally cold, colder than even any human should be, and Alex became increasingly aware that he wasn’t sure he was breathing. He had to count down from three again, head spinning and jumping to conclusions he shouldn’t.

“You’re fine. I know you’re fine. You’ll be fine. This is fine,” Alex repeated, panic swarming his brain like a cloud of bees that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times he swatted. He managed to stay relatively calm nonetheless.

And then he accidentally touched the alien tech in the process of peeling his fingers off of it.

A bright light flashed through Alex’s eyes and a piercing white noise flooded his hearing, cutting him off from most of his senses as something body-slammed him and knocked him to the ground. His mind was too fuzzy to construct thoughts. All he could do was breathe and wait for it to pass even as thoughts and memories crowded into his mind too fast to catch. Half of them he was sure weren’t even his own.

And then it all went black.

When Alex came to, his body ached and his head was throbbing.

He sat up slowly, his eyes instantly falling on Michael who hadn’t moved. The sight almost brought Alex to tears‒he felt overwhelmed. He was tired and he hurt and he was overwhelmed. It was like his body was stuffed with emotions that he wasn’t prepared for. Which‒honestly wasn’t that abnormal. Maybe he should go take his anxiety meds before bed…

‘Do I actually look like that?’ Michael asked suddenly. Alex would’ve been relieved by the sound if maybe Michael’s mouth had moved or maybe he’d heard it with his ears rather than inside his own head, alongside his own inner monologue.

“Michael?” Alex asked weakly, still feeling too much.

‘Don’t freak out, okay?’ Michael said, still inside his head. Tears pricked Alex’s eyes and he started breathing heavier. ‘Alex, hey, don’t freak out. It’s okay. I’m here‒literally. And‒oh, fuck, I don’t like that. Do you feel like that all the time or is it just right now? Is it because you’re panicking? Do you feel this way each time you panic? Because your thoughts are too fast for me to even process and you feel like you’re suffocating which would be bad because I’m in you too and that’s gonna be hard to explain on the death certificate, ha. If you are freaking out, maybe‒’

“Do you always think this much because shut the fuck up,” Alex snapped, meaner than he meant to but he couldn’t think. He needed to just think and he couldn’t when Michael’s thoughts were filling his brain and‒

Oh god, Michael’s thoughts were filling his brain.

‘Hey, my thoughts aren’t that bad. But don’t worry, I think I can sort of keep you out of most of them because I can only hear your loud ones‒I think. I’m gonna need you to calm down before I know for sure.’

“Michael,” Alex whispered, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, “Can you please get out of my head?”

There was silence for a moment and Michael must’ve been right that they could only hear the loud thoughts. But‒Well, he could still feel him. He could feel the way he was struggling. If he was in front of him, he would probably have that cocky little smirk and his head tilted back. He would act like he was chill, like he wasn’t scared, maybe he’d pretend to be angry.

But Alex could feel the fear. It was a cold, quiet, deep dread.

“You don’t know how to get out, do you?” Alex asked carefully.

‘No.’ Michael replied honestly. Which. Fair enough. ‘But I’ll figure it out!’

“Figure it out,” Alex said, “Do… do you even know what happened? How are you in my head? What did you do?”

‘Okay, so, working theory, the alien tech I was messing with was working through my consciousness and when you touched it, it freaked out and put me in the wrong body. So, your body. So my entire consciousness is in you. Kinda kinky if you think about it.’

“No,” Alex whispered, closing his eyes and slowly bowing his head. He didn’t like this. There were a billion ways to feel, but his brain could only say how much he didn’t like this. He didn’t like hearing someone else’s voice in his head.

‘Alex,’ Michael said softly, ‘Alex, are you okay?’

“You’re in my fucking head, what do you mean am I okay? Of course I’m not okay, are you okay?” Alex said, heart thudding in his chest and head still swimming. He was tired and he hurt and he needed to eat and he needed Michael out of his head.

‘Let’s go eat the dinner that you made,’ Michael told him, ignoring the question which was answer enough, ‘Then we’ll come see if I can fix it.’

“I don’t like this,” Alex said.

‘I know. Me neither. But you need to eat, I can tell you haven’t eaten all day,’ Michael instructed. Alex swallowed and lifted his head, looking up again.

Michael’s body was still frozen in place, empty of all thought apparently. Leaving him there was just something Alex wasn’t prepared or willing to do. He pushed himself to his feet carefully, ignoring Michael’s ‘whoa’ reaction.

‘You’re tired,’ Michael said. Stating the obvious, loud enough for them both to hear.

“Yeah, I worked all day,” Alex said. Michael didn’t respond. “I’m laying you down.”

Alex walked over to Michael’s body, carefully reaching out and touching his cheek. He was still cold. He moved his thumb to rest under his nose. He wasn’t breathing. Alex gave a shuttered breath.

‘It’s just in stasis, it’s alright, don’t freak out. I’m still alive.’

“Don’t freak out,” Alex repeated with a scoff.

Still, he was careful as ever as he put one hand on the back of Michael’s neck and the other on his waist. He made sure not to even accidentally bump the alien tech just in case that somehow made this horrific situation infinitely worse. He guided his body to the couch they’d placed in there, taking the brunt of his weight and not caring if his body ached in the process. It didn’t matter.

Michael was suspiciously silent through the entire thing, even as Alex brushed his hair back and pulled a blanket over him just in case. What if when he came to, he was still cold? That just wouldn’t do. He wanted to keep him as warm as possible.

“Can you feel hunger right now?” Alex asked after a long stretch of silence. He didn’t want Michael in his head, but he also didn’t really like the feeling of him being too silent for too long. At least while he was in his head, he knew where he was.

‘I can feel yours. It’s basically like I was just stuffed into your body. I bet I could control it if I tried.’ It was said in a rather intrigued tone, that of a scientist and nothing more. But it still shot a pang of panic through Alex’s system. He’d experienced not being in control of his body before and he wasn’t keen on a repeat, this time even more extreme. ‘Sorry.’

“Is that how you feel?” Alex asked carefully, his hand deceptively steady as he scraped off the vegetables onto a plate. They weren’t hot anymore. It was cool enough to touch the pan. “Like you’re trapped in my head?”

‘Well, don’t say it like that.’

“So, yes,” Alex said, bringing the plate to the table. He sat down and held his fork in his hand, staring at it. He wasn’t hungry anymore.

‘Alex. Eat.’

And he tried. Michael was quiet. He could tell he was still there, the buzzing of his thoughts still affecting Alex despite the fact that he was keeping them from overpowering Alex. It was almost impressive how quickly his thoughts were moving, constant unfettered thought process. He was suddenly hit with a memory of Michael, young and pretty and hiding so much from him, saying how loud and chaotic his thoughts were and how music helped quiet it.

The buzzing slowed for a moment.

‘Is that how you saw me?’ Michael’s voice asked him, curiosity in his tone more than anything else. Alex blinked. He was starting to feel a bit numb to the whole thing.

“So we can share memories,” Alex said bluntly, dread building in him and dissipating into his bloodstream. He couldn’t care about that. If he cared, he’d think more about things he didn’t want Michael to see and he would be loud about them.

He leaned into the numbness.

‘I’m going to fix this,’ Michael said with a newfound determination. A bitter smirk found Alex’s face. He wondered, not for the first time, about all the things that Michael didn’t want him to know.

“Okay.”

Alex finished half of the vegetables before putting them in the refrigerator and telling himself he was definitely going to eat them later. Similar to the way he was definitely going to get a water filter since he didn’t trust the water that came to the cabin but he didn’t want to just keep buying water bottles. Eventually, he would, hopefully.

Michael’s thoughts buzzed and Alex dragged himself back to the ladder down to the bunker. He was tired and his body ached and he really didn’t want to be climbing up and down the latter so many times. Couldn’t Michael accidentally discover this horrific thing on a day he didn’t have work?

‘Right, so, this is going to be a little bit weird because I can’t handle the tech myself. You’re just going to have to listen to what I say and try to do them to the best of your ability. Not saying that you aren’t as capable as me, I’d never say that, you’re so smart and good at everything you do. I actually saw your work the other day, that website you were coding for that little mom and pop shop in town and that was really impressive how quickly you can type. I didn’t know you did freelance work like that either, is that for extra money or for a hobby? I wonder how complicated it would be to set up a recording system with all your tech stuff, I can’t imagine it’d be‒

“Michael,” Alex said slowly, a headache already coming on. He suddenly had a new appreciation for Michael Guerin in his own body. It was beginning to feel like a miracle that he didn’t have panic attacks every day over his own overwhelming brain. “Slow down, keep focus.”

‘I’m focused, I am, sorry.’ It was a lie. Maybe that’s why he was good with his hands, he needed something to put his energy into. ‘My point was that it’s hard for me to explain what I’m doing with my hands, so I’m just gonna try and hope for the best.’

“I’ll try.”

‘And I trust you.’ There was a pause, though the buzzing never stopped. It honestly didn’t really stop when he was talking. That alone was a bit scary. Maybe they’d need to work on something to help his brain relax.

“I trust you too,” Alex whispered.

Michael guided him through different ways to handle the tech, correcting him here and there and doing his best not to get frustrated which Alex appreciated. He tried to hold onto it while Michael’s body was still holding it and he focused really hard, trying his damnedest to send Michael back. And Michael was trying to, giving all of his focus, but no matter how long he tried, nothing happened.

‘Try holding it by yourself.’

“What if we both just get sucked in and then we’re both catatonic?”

‘That won’t happen.’ There was a pause. ‘I think.’

Alex took a deep breath and just listened, carefully peeling Michael’s fingers off the tech. It was like taking something from a corpse which was. Unpleasant. And not the first time Alex had done that.

‘Alex.’ Michael’s voice was a warning and it’d be more helpful if Michael knew what he was warning him from. ‘I’m okay. I’m not dead.’

They were friends right now. They weren’t together, but they were friendly and Michael was welcome in his house. Sometimes, they hugged. Alex knew restraint and he knew how to wait for what he wanted. Even with all of that, he couldn’t help the way his stomach twisted and turned at the prospect of never touching him again. It would be endless taunting to have his voice in his head and yet nothing to be tactile with. Nothing to touch, nothing to feed, nothing to hold, nothing to be held by.

“I know,” Alex said, pushing those thoughts down deep and pulled the alien tech into his lap. If Michael heard any of his thoughts, he said nothing.

‘Okay, do you see that thing in the top right that looks like a thumbprint?’ Michael asked. Alex scanned it and then nodded, going to reach for it. ‘No!’

“What? Why not?” Alex asked quietly, but he snatched his hand away.

‘Sorry, sorry. It’ll shock you if you don’t put your left thumb on it, but it has to be kept in the top right corner.’

“How does it know?” Alex asked.

‘Fuck if I know. Okay, put your left thumb on it and then put your right palm in the center.” Alex did as he was told. ‘Close your eyes and picture me being plucked out of your mind, through your arm, and into the piece.’

“What is this, some kind of meditation?”

‘Just bear with me.’

And Alex did. He pictured it over and over, plucking a tiny Michael out of his brain. When the first one didn’t work, he imagined different parts of his brain. Then he imagined the tiny Michael flailing like a Mii. Which really only messed up his focus because he started smiling at the idea.

‘This isn’t working,’ Michael sighed. It was weird that he could sigh in his brain. He wondered how that worked. Could he laugh in his brain? Alex couldn’t. ‘You’re distracted.’

“I’m sorry,” Alex said instantly, his spine straightening up a bit in response. He could feel the buzzing of Michael roar a bit louder.

‘It isn’t your fault. You’re tired‒I’m tired. Maybe we should go to sleep and try again in the morning.’ Michael suggested. Alex gulped softly, staring at the piece.

He wasn’t too keen on sleeping with Michael in his head. When he was awake, he could keep things quiet. He didn’t know what would happen if he went to sleep. Would Michael see his dreams? The idea in particular scared the shit out of him, more than even their current situation.

“What happens tomorrow, then? I have work. Don’t you?” Alex asked.

‘Maybe we could call in. For me, just use my phone to text Sanders. Old man has the font on his phone ridiculously big and can still barely see it, so he just has my ringtone set so he’ll piece it together. It’s not even anything cool, it’s just one of the sparkly ones that come already downloaded into your phone. I do like that I have my own ringtone though. Does that make me weird? Do you think he’d be freaked out if he knew I liked it? Nah, he’s basically like my dad. Don’t tell him that, though, I think that’d make it weird. Well, he did want to adopt me, so maybe not that weird, but‒’

“Michael,” Alex cut in, lips parted a bit as he absorbed the few words that he could, “He wanted to adopt you?”

There was just buzzing for a while and then, ‘I thought I told you.’

“No, I would’ve remembered,” Alex whispered.

‘Oh. Well. Yeah. Sorry.’

Alex swallowed and shifted, looking over to Michael’s body. He was still cold and not breathing and the whole thing was just more and more unsettling by the minute. So Alex took a deep breath and placed the piece on Michael’s stomach before standing up.

“I’ll call my superior in the morning and tell him I can’t make it,” Alex said.

He sighed and closed his eyes. He typically found that as a comfort, as sealing himself in so it was just him. But that didn’t quite work with Michael in his brain. It was just as invasive. As much as he loved Michael with his entire being, it still made his skin crawl in a way he dreaded to admit.

‘In the morning, we’ll figure it out. And if we still are struggling, we’ll call in Liz. Oh! I bet Izzy could help if she could get into the mindscape.’

“No offense, but I barely like having you in my head. If we can avoid bringing your sister in that, that’d be great,” Alex said dryly, making his way to the latter. It looked much more intimidating than usual. God, he was tired.

‘Last resort.’ Michael promised.

Alex sighed and started to drag himself up the ladder. It took way more effort than he would ever willingly admit‒but he couldn’t even keep that to himself because Michael was in his head. He, presumably, could feel how much it was taking out of him. Thankfully, he didn’t say anything.

Alex took his time catching his breath as he moved to his bathroom, locking the door behind him on instinct, and then paused before he made another move. He needed to wash off, but he wasn’t keen on that with Michael in his head. He was comfortable with Michael seeing his body, yes, but… That was different.

“Michael?” Alex asked.

‘Oh, um, I’m sure there’s a way I can, like, turn off. Or something? Give me a minute.’

“Wait,” Alex said quickly, clutching the counter. His breathing labored a bit as his stomach churned and Michael’s buzzing amplified. “Don’t… Don’t turn off, that’ll freak me out, I don’t want you to go away until you’re in your body again.”

It was probably a horrible thing to say that he would regret, but also the idea of Michael going silent was suffocating and he couldn’t handle that on top of everything else.

‘Okay, I won’t.’ His voice was soft, earnest. It was debatably the first time he sounded like he actually understood what Alex needed from him. Alex didn’t want to think about that.

“Just… How do you see? Are you seeing through my eyes or is it some type of omnipotent, third-person type view or… I don’t know, I haven’t read enough sci-fi books on body sharing,” Alex said, pulling out the stool that was tucked underneath the counter.

He sat down and put his hands on his thighs. He pushed down with each finger one at a time slowly, from his pinky on his left hand to his pinky on his right. He breathed in tandem.

‘I see through your eyes. Right now I see your hands, your sweatpants, your rug. I love that rug by the way, but I don’t know if you should have a fabric floor mat in the bathroom. That’s, like, a hub for mold and bacteria. Did you know that? They have rubber ones, do you think those would work? I’m going to get you one and see how you like it, I think it’d be good. Or, like, at least‒’

“Michael,” Alex sighed. He’d said his name more times today than he’d said probably ever before. He just thought so loud and so much.

‘Sorry. But, yes, I see through your eyes.’

“Is there a way for you to not look?” Alex asked. Michael was quiet except the buzzing. “This is just… I don’t think…”

‘I don’t know, Alex. Let me see, okay? Give me a second, let me try.’ Michael sounded like he really would try, so Alex nodded and let him.

There was a stretch of silence with Alex doing nothing but pressing his fingers into his thighs, keeping himself calm and grounded. He didn’t try to rush as Michael fiddled around in his brain. He wasn’t really in a rush anyway. He wasn’t eager to go to sleep like this.

They kept on until Alex’s left hand stopped pressing into his thigh without his approval. Alex stopped breathing, staring at it and trying to move it. It wouldn’t.

“Michael,” he whispered, all that panic he’d subdued rising to the surface at alarming rates. It only worsened when his hand clenched into a fist on its own accord.

Alex made a noise between fear and shock, flinching away from himself. His throat closed in on itself and choked him and his head spun and tears pricked his eyes and he couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t control his body and he couldn’t control his body and he couldn’t control his body and he couldn’t

‘Fuck! Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t know that‒Alex, Alex, breathe. Breathe, okay? Breathe. Move your hand, look, it’s yours, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’ Michael rambled and Alex felt hot tears pour over his cheeks. He clenched his hands into fists over and over, making sure he could control them.

Alex’s breathing was ragged and he was shaking, but he watched his hands and tried to ignore Michael's rambling. He slowly moved his hands to the top of his head and looked at the pole that held his shower curtain. He counted each ring as effectively as he could, trying to catch his breath. Michael eventually caught on that his words weren’t helping.

They sat like that for‒for too long. Alex wasn’t sure how long it actually was, but it was enough that, by the time he could breathe again, he was too exhausted to think about showering. He still kept moving his hands, making sure he was able to.

“I don’t like that,” Alex said, voice smaller than he would’ve liked. Childish, honestly. Helpless and out of control and childish.

‘I am so sorry. I didn’t realize that would happen, I was just trying to figure out where I could go. But, I… I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again.�� Michael was genuinely repentant. Later, Alex would feel embarrassed about the entire thing. Right now, he just wanted Michael in his own body. ‘I’m so sorry.’

“Is that how you feel?” Alex asked, swallowing softly, “Like you’re completely out of control? Like… like something is moving for you?”

Michael’s lack of response was response enough.

Alex laughed a wet laugh and sucked a deep breath in through his nose. Hands shaking, he turned towards the sink. He wet his toothbrush with hot water and put toothpaste on it and brushed his teeth the way he did every night. Michael stayed quiet.

He rinsed, spit, washed his face, took his anxiety medication, and told himself he’d try to shower in the morning. A few more grounding breaths later, he moved to his bedroom with a wet washcloth in his hand. Alex sniffled and sat on the edge of his bed, slowly removing his prosthetic. He was supposed to clean the sleeve, but he couldn’t right now. He instead wiped his stump with the washcloth and decided it would have to be good enough.

Alex pulled out his phone and checked to make sure all of his security alarms were on and he’d already known the doors were locked. Typically, he would’ve done another round, but he was tired and overwhelmed and wanted to get in bed. He shifted towards the top of his bed and climbed beneath the blankets, wrapping himself up tightly. The lights were still on. He’d turn them off in a minute.

“I’m sorry for freaking out,” Alex whispered after a solid two minutes of cocooning himself.

‘Don’t be. I’m sorry for this entire situation. It’s… super invasive.’

“You didn’t do it on purpose,” Alex murmured into his comforter, breathing as steadily as he could. In, out, in, out.

‘It’s unfair. I promise I’m going to fix this.’

“I believe you.” And Alex did believe him. He believed that Michael could do practically anything he set his mind to. That was the benefit of having a genius on hand.

This was just a particularly horrible situation that had Alex too nervous to think too loud.

‘You’re tired. Get some rest.’ Michael said, soft and sweet. For a fleeting moment, Alex wished he was here. ‘I wonder if my telekinesis works in your head. Do we even know if it’s physical or psychological? I don’t think we really do, or, like, not entirely. We gotta look into that as soon as I’m back in my body. Do you think I could turn the light out without making you get up? Do you mind if I try?’

Alex swallowed and clutched his blanket closer. When it was dark, it’d be even harder to fully conceptualize that Michael was in his head. When it was dark, he would hear him and it would be so easy to imagine he was just on the other side of the bed.

Still, he was right. Alex was tired. And the only way he was going to calm down was if he slept. That was easier said than done and he didn’t really want to sleep, but it was something he needed. He’d just have to play it by ear.

‘Please get some sleep, Alex.’ Michael sounded like he heard him. Perhaps he really did.

“I’ll try,” Alex said, “Try turning out the light.”

In theory, Alex did understand how the aliens used their powers. It was an intense and beautiful thing and Alex could watch Michael do it for hours. Feeling it, however, was something different. Michael focused on the light switch and Alex was all but lit up from the inside. His lips parted and the barrier in his mind he used to keep Michael out of his private thoughts seemed to shatter as they melded for a moment, too quickly to really learn anything and yet long enough to feel akin to the way he did when Michael whispered his closest secrets minutes after sex. Too intimate. Too close. Too much.

The light was off and the feeling died and the barrier returned. Michael went to his side of the brain and Alex took shaky breaths, tugging the blanket tighter around him. At least the feeling of sheer panic had subsided. Instead, blinding embarrassment and foggy pleasure and a massive amount of fatigue had filled his entire brain. Because of a fucking light switch.

‘My bad.’ Michael said, his voice warm enough to be a verbal hug.

Alex breathed in, curling up beneath his blanket and holding it to his nose. He wanted Michael so badly, more than he had in a while. Which was saying something because he typically wanted him a lot.

“You feel like that every time you use your telekinesis?” Alex asked softly. If he let his mind drift enough, he could imagine idle fingers on his hips, a foot rubbing against his calf, a pair of lips on his neck. Even then it was nothing more than phantom desires, once he hoped were too quiet for Michael to hear.

He was a little too convinced that they weren’t and yet Michael didn’t mention it.

‘No. I guess because it’s, like, through a different conduit‒not saying you’re just a conduit, but, you know, my body is built to do that stuff and yours isn’t. So it’s kinda like immediately lifting 50lbs when you’ve never lifted weights before. Deceivingly easy and then it’s not, like that took a lot of effort on my part and it’s not my body. And then‒there’s two of us, so it’s different. I kinda for a minute felt like we were bumping brains. Did that hurt? I didn’t feel any pain, but I don’t know how this works. I bet that drained you, though, you feel more fatigued. I won’t do it again. Are you okay? Talk to me.’

“Lifting too much weight doesn’t feel like that,” Alex whispered, eyes drifting closed. He was tired. So tired that he was almost a little angry that he wouldn’t be able to stay up long enough to keep his dreams away from Michael.

Michael hummed softly, amused.

‘Can you try something for me?’ he asked, soft and sweet and coaxing. A drastic tonal shift from where he’d been just a moment ago, from where he’d been for months. ‘Try talking to me in your head so you don’t have to keep talking out loud, I know that gets exhausting. Let’s see what it sounds like.’

In a different world, a different time, Michael would’ve called him baby somewhere in there. Sometimes Alex listened to him talk and could hear where he should’ve called him baby. He hadn’t heard it in so long. God, he needed to get rid of these thoughts.

‘It was draining and I’m tired,’ Alex tried, like an internal monologue but with more intent. Here is where Michael would smile at him, lean close, touch him somewhere just because he wanted to. Because he could. When was the last time Michael touched him simply because he could? Had it been a year now? More?

‘You’re thinking a lot of stuff I can’t hear. You okay?’ Michael asked.

“Does it sound like buzzing?” Alex murmured, “Yours sounds like buzzing.”

‘Yeah, a little. You don’t like the in-brain talking?’

“Might make it difficult to keep the stuff I don’t want you to hear away from you,” Alex said simply, “It’s hard enough.”

‘Fair.’ Michael was quiet for a moment, the buzzing still there.

Maybe they would wake up in the morning and this would all be fixed. Maybe this was a bad dream that would just force Alex to appreciate Michael’s existence.

But that would be fucking stupid because he already appreciated Michael’s existence. It was Michael who didn’t want him, not the way he wanted. Not the way they used to be.

Alex’s eyes slid open, suddenly not as willing to go to sleep. He was exhausted and wasn’t sure he would be able to get up in the morning if he didn’t sleep, but he didn’t want to. There was a chance that he would sleep and Michael would see things he shouldn’t and it wouldn’t change anything other than their already fragile relationship.

He couldn’t even keep his thoughts straight at this point.

‘Alex, you need to go to sleep. We’re tired.’

Alex didn’t respond, just staring at a fixed point on the wall. He shouldn’t have let him turn the lights off. The longer he forced himself to stay awake, the more the good feelings from his power faded and the more the bad ones from earlier in the night amplified.

Alex stayed awake as long as he could, fought off the fatigue, ran off the adrenaline from his anxiety.

Still, none of it was a match for how drained he was in every sense of the word.

“What are you talking about? What are you doing?”

Alex was laid on a bed of some kind, trying to fight them off. They were all faceless until they weren’t. Light would shift and he would catch angry, hateful, sorrowful, and clinical stares. They ignored his questions as they strapped him to the bed.

He was shirtless, pantsless, bare, and exposed. His ankles were held down by more straps. The people around him ignored him as he started to panic. They were all wearing black and white, all in habits and priest attire. Where was he? What was going on? What were they doing?

“Please, Father, help this young boy,” one of them said. A nun, the one who looked like she wanted to cry. Like maybe she felt bad. If she did, she didn’t do anything to help him. “Please.”

“Step back. We don’t know what this thing will do.”

The one who held his hand slipped away and Alex tried to keep himself calm.

If you’re good, they’ll let you go. If you’re good, they’ll let you go. Just be good. Just be good. You can be good.

Alex locked eyes with the priest who stood over him. He made a face, one of disgust. One of ‘how dare you think you’re allowed to look at me’ and Alex never broke eye contact.

He spoke in a different language and began to circle Alex’s body. It started off stupid: just recitations and throwing water on him. It was cold and Alex would flinch, but beyond that he didn’t do anything. This seemed to piss off the man more and he took a step to the side to speak with the other patrons. While he was doing that, Alex started to try and wiggle out of the restraints.

Before he knew it, though, they were back. The water they threw on him this time was hot. Flicks and droplets of scalding water, enough to make him gasp and enough to make him want to try to fight the restraints more. On his chest, on his thighs, on his legs, on his arms, on his face. It burned.

He kept it in for as long as he could, kept quiet, kept obedient, tried to be good. But it hurt. He screamed at them, please, please, please.

“It’s working.”

It seemed like it went on for days, hours. Alex laid there until he couldn’t cry anymore. He laid there until he was starving so much he felt nauseous. He laid there until every inch of him hurt in some way. He laid there when they pressed heated crosses into his arm. He laid there and let them brand him.

He laid there.

He laid there and he didn’t lose control.

He was going to be good.

Alex woke up with a start, gasping and clutching the sheets.

It was dark still. His dream was… not one he’d had before. Mindless, he checked his body the places his dream had said he’d been burned. It felt real. He checked his arms for crosses, rucked up his shirt to see splash marks from boiling holy water, felt his face to see if there were any sensitive spots. It took him three checks to realize it was the wrong body.

The cross brand that had faded over the years was rather inconspicuous on a man full of scars, but Alex had felt it. The parts of his body that took him a while to not flinch away from when Alex tried to touch made more sense. He just… didn’t think it was because of this.

‘I’m sorry.’ Michael’s voice was soft and nervous. Alex felt residual anxiety on top of the pre-existing bullshit from the dream itself.

“Michael,” Alex said because that’s all he could say, “Michael.”

‘Go back to sleep,’ Michael tried, ‘I’ll do better this time.’

Alex caught his breath and tightened his hold on his sheets. He wanted to curl up into his chest, to tell him sweet nothings. To touch and be touched because that was safe. Whatever he’d just dreamed was not safe. Having an empty Michael-suit in his basement was not safe.

Still, he slowly coaxed himself back to lay down. He was tired still and that dream had robbed him of any sense of being rested. And it was still dark.

‘Please go back to sleep. It’ll be okay. I’m sorry.’

“I’m sorry too.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Dohman said, getting too close to Alex’s face. He would never understand why men who took homosexuality as their enemy number one decided to get nose to nose with other men when they were angry. It would be funny if it wasn’t the actual worst.

“Look, Dohman, you’re not my fucking type, get over it,” Alex said, shoving him back. That was his first wrong step, but what was he supposed to do? Let it happen? “I like men, not whatever the fuck you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dohman asked, his eyebrows tugging together further and his face turning a deeper shade of rage red.

“What‒are you upset? Aw, do you have a crush on me?”

Dohman threw the first punch and Alex managed to dodge it, throwing the second one. There were a few more, a blur of them, before he was hit in the nose and stumbled back. He stumbled straight into a different room, a kitchen.

“Alex. You’re late.”

The voice was one that instilled fear deep within Alex and he stood up a little straighter. His father sat at the head of the table, staring at him like he expected him to be late. Alex took a deep breath and went to sit at the table.

“I’m sorry, what do you think you’re doing?” he asked. Alex blinked.

“Sitting.”

“Did I say you could sit? You’re late. You missed curfew. Do I need to remind you what happens when you miss curfew?” he asked. Alex shook his head.

“No, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.”

Alex held his breath as he stood up straight and went to the corner of the kitchen. He knelt down, his face towards the wall, and held his arms up. If he slumped or his arms wavered or if he sat on his feet, he would get an extra two hours. So he didn’t let that happen.

Alex listened to his father eat dinner. Listened to him put his dishes in the sink. Listened to him go into the living room and turn on the TV. He always wondered if he forgot about him, but he knew he couldn’t get up without consequences.

So Alex stayed.

And Alex didn’t slump.

He was going to be good.

When Alex woke up this time, the sun was still hidden away.

This one was less shocking, less jarring, more standard. Still, he curled up in bed and rubbed his knees mindlessly. Michael’s buzzing was there, but he didn’t say any words. Alex was almost thankful for it. He was embarrassed and still tired.

As his alarm went off to tell him to get up and get ready for work at the bright and early time of 4 AM, Alex turned it off and instead called the base. He made up an excuse about a stomach bug and how he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk giving it to anyone else and didn’t he have sick days built up? His superior agreed, told him to get some rest, and promised to see him when he was better.

Alex dropped his phone.

‘It was much sexier sleeping next to you when we didn’t share dreams.’ Michael sounded tired somehow. How did that work? Michael had probably already thought about that question a million times over.

“Yeah, it was,” Alex agreed.

He laid in bed for a few extra minutes before deciding he wasn’t going to get any more sleep. Whenever Michael left his brain, he was going to be taking a trazodone and he was going to knock into a relatively dreamless sleep for 12 hours. He at least had that to look forward to.

Alex climbed out of bed and reached for his crutches. When he got upright, it made it just that much more prevalent how tired his body was. This whole thing was draining and exhausting. His leg was sore, his head hurt, his stomach felt like he’d gotten a rather extensive core workout.

He spent his morning going through his regular routine, only this time with mindless Michael commentary. Alex had definitely understood Michael had a rather busy thought process and he struggled with silence, but he hadn’t realized how much. It was almost concerning.

Still, he listened and brushed his teeth, listened and washed his face, listened and took his meds, listened and put his prosthetic on, forced himself to eat breakfast, etc, etc, etc. Midway through his third cup of coffee, Alex started making his way down to the bunker. He held the mug between his teeth and focused on the ladder instead of Michael’s rambling.

When he looked at Michael’s body, it was exactly the way he left it. Alex walked over slowly and put his hand on his bicep, massaging it carefully and making sure it wasn’t getting stiff. He looked dead, he didn’t want him to feel dead.

Michael in his mind, however, went actually silent for a moment. Even the buzzing stopped.

‘What are you doing?’ Michael asked carefully.

“Sorry, I won’t touch you,” Alex said, taking his hand away. His eyes were harder to remove.

‘You can.’ He was speaking slowly, the buzzing returning at an all-time loud. ‘I just… didn’t think you would want to touch me. That’s pretty gross. Haven’t bathed.’

“Neither have I,” Alex said simply, “I pretty much always want to touch you.”

The buzzing, somehow, amplified.

Alex squeezed his eyes shut in response, the headache he had worsening because of it. Michael hadn’t mentioned the headache and Alex was beginning to wonder if he just always had a headache and that’s why it wasn’t phasing him. It would make sense if his brain was really that full all the time.

Instead of thinking too much about that, Alex took a big sip of his coffee and then sat it on the table.

“Alright, let’s get to work.”

The two of them got to work brainstorming which was much easier than it would’ve been if Michael was on the outside because Michael’s ideas that were hard to verbalize came across to Alex in concepts. Well‒easier in theory because Alex only had so much knowledge within Michael’s specialty.

But, nonetheless, they worked. And they worked. And hours went by and Michael was still stuck in his head and no matter how hard they worked, nothing happened.

By lunchtime, Alex was exhausted all over again and he was beginning to feel more than a bit frustrated. He just wanted Michael in his own body. Why couldn’t the universe just give him that one thing? That should be an easy fucking request.

“I hate this piece of shit,” Alex grumbled, carefully setting the alien tech down instead of throwing it across the room because that would presumably be very bad. He tilted his head back from where he was sitting on the floor by the couch, the back of his head resting against Michael’s thigh.

‘Maybe we should call Liz,’ Michael in his head suggested, not mentioning a single thing about where his head was. Alex’s hands rested carefully on his own thighs, pressing down each finger one at a time starting from his left pinky all the way to his right. This was fine.

“What do I say? That I accidentally robbed you of your subconscious and that you’re stuck in my brain and she’s basically lost her science partner because he’s in my fucking head and I’m not him and I’m useless and‒”

‘Alex,’ Michael said softly, in the same way Alex had said his name when he got to rambling, ‘You’re not useless. And this isn’t your fault. It’s not one’s fault, we didn’t know this was going to happen. So let’s just call her and see if she can come help.’

Alex breathed in deep and nodded slowly. He sat there unmoving for a moment after that. Michael’s buzzing was incessant and it was very clearly worried. It gave off the same energy that Michael had so many times before, just much different because it was in Alex’s head rather than on Michael’s face.

“I wish you could hug me,” Alex said softly. It felt like a simple, easy statement all things considered. Michael’s worried buzzing tapered off just a little.

‘I wish I could too.’

And they sat there, taking a break before they called Liz. She wasn’t in California anymore, having come back because there was just something about Roswell that refused to let you fucking leave. Or she missed her dad and her sister. One of the two options. So, at least they had that going for them.

Alex pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts and found Liz Ortecho sitting in his short list of 25 contacts. He hadn’t actually spoken to her in a while, not over the phone and not just the two of them. Once upon a time it would’ve upset him, but they were adults and they hadn’t been each other’s first priorities in a very long time. Alex wasn’t sure he’d ever been hers. But that was fine too because that’s what friendship was sometimes.

“Alex?” Liz answered like she was extremely confused to see him calling. Alex huffed a laugh despite nothing about his situation being funny. Not in the fucking slightest.

“So, I have a little situation that I don’t feel comfortable telling you over the phone,” Alex said. He knew she was rather easygoing about what she shared over the phone, but he wasn’t as trusting. Hell, he barely liked having his phone on him when he was doing things like this at all even with all of his protective shit on it. He knew how easy it was to be tracked, to be listened to. The only one who took his concerns seriously was Michael and Kyle. “Can you be at the cabin in less than an hour?”

“...what cabin?”

Alex sighed, “The old Valenti hunting cabin? Come on, I know you and Kyle probably hooked up here a lot when we were in high school.”

“Oh. Okay. Yeah. I’ll be there. Should I bring anything?”

“Kyle.”

“Got it.”

Alex sighed as the call ended and dropped his phone. His eyes drifted over to Michael’s body, still and cold and catatonic. He reached out for his hand mindlessly and started to massage it carefully, working into all the muscles he knew still got sore on bad days. Not like they were sore now.

‘You don’t have to do this,’ Michael said, ‘You don’t have to…’

There was an implication, one that was rather insulting if Alex was asked. He never allowed his feelings to go unknown, not since his rather embarrassing display at the Wild Pony. It was Michael who needed to catch up; Alex hadn’t been hiding it.

“Do you want me to stop?” Alex asked again.

‘No,’ he said, ‘I just hate that I can’t feel it.’

“You will when you get back. You’ll be able to feel it then,” Alex said, a quiet promise that he would continue. He hoped that was good enough for Michael to understand.

They sat, waiting for Liz to show up and staying as calm as they physically could. Alex considered crawling beside him more than once but he felt that would just be too much. Too much whatever. Alex waited until he felt as at peace as he physically could be.

“Michael,” Alex called, “How did you take over my hand last night? You tried to explain it but I didn’t really understand.”

‘Basically, from my understanding, I just connected those parts of my psyche to your arm. Like when you’re laying in bed and you need to get up and so your brain tells your body to move. Like that, I guess, and I guess it was enough to take over yours.’

Alex blinked and breathed steadily, rolling his shoulders back and steeling himself.

“Try again,” Alex suggested.

‘What? No. No, I’m not doing that. You didn’t like that, I’m not doing that to you again.’

“You’re cooped up in my brain. Don’t you want to stretch out? I feel guilty that you’re trapped there. As long as you don’t take over my whole body and I know what you’re going to do, I think I’ll be okay,” Alex urged. Michael didn’t say anything right away. “I just feel bad. Just tell me what you’re going to do before you do it, okay?”

‘Are you sure?’

Alex nodded and kept his breaths steady, waiting for the moment Michael would decide to act. Maybe this was stupid and maybe he’d freak out again, but…

‘Okay, it’s gonna be your left arm, elbow down.’ Alex kept his breathing steady and used his right hand to continue holding onto Michael’s. He wasn’t clutching back and that made it feel a bit hollow, but that was alright. Michael was in him. One day when this was over, he’d probably make a joke about it. ‘Okay, ready?’

“Ready,” Alex agreed.

He swallowed as he felt his arm go numb and tingly as Michael took over. He kept his breathing even and held onto his hand and watched as Michael moved his fingers carefully, just stretching them around.

‘I’m gonna raise it, alright?’

“Alright.”

‘You’re doing so good, thank you for this.’

Alex nodded as watched as his hand rose and his wrist rolled. He could feel a bit of panic edging in him, but he held out. Michael used Alex’s thumb to trace each finger on his hand.

‘Can I touch you?’ Michael asked. Alex took a shaky breath and nodded again, not really trusting his voice. This whole thing was weird and slightly terrifying and slightly exhilarating at the same time. He’d never felt something quite like this before. He was pretty sure not many had. ‘Okay.’

His hand moved to his face, gently tracing over his nose and his cheek. Alex’s lips twitched and let out a heavy breath. Michael guided his hand over his jaw and to his neck, sliding over his shoulder and down his arm until he got to where Alex was holding Michael’s body’s hand. The hand Michael was controlling layered over them, squeezing the hand Alex still had.

‘Squeeze back,’ Michael requested. Alex did. It must’ve looked insane that he was just holding his own hand, but his heart was thudding in his chest at the reality of it.

“You know we’ve never held hands,” Alex pointed out, “Not for real.”

‘Yeah,’ Michael said softly, ‘We’re gonna.’

“We’re gonna?” Alex wondered, watching as the thumb Michael was controlling rubbed against the back of the hand he could feel.

‘We’re gonna. This doesn’t count.’

“Okay.”

Alex startled as his phone went off, alerting him that someone was within a half-mile of the cabin. Slowly, feeling came back to his hand and Michael was no longer in control of it. Alex took a few breaths to reset himself before putting Michael’s hand back on his side.

“We should go upstairs,” Alex said.

‘Do you feel okay?’

“Yeah,” Alex said even though he knew Michael could literally feel him. It was nice that he asked nonetheless.

Alex pushed himself to his feet and grabbed his empty mug before going to climb the ladder again. He needed to put stairs in or something because this was just getting annoying.

‘I’ll build you stairs,’ Michael offered. Alex tried not to get that warm and fuzzy feeling in response to that because this was very much not the time.

“Not necessary.”

‘I’m gonna.’

They got up to the cabin and Alex walked over to the kitchen, rinsing out his mug. He stared at the coffee maker for a few seconds before he reached over and dumped the grinds out and rinsed the mesh. Michael rambled about coffee grinds being good for compost or something and Alex nodded along, agreeing to wherever his train of thought was headed. He started another pot and then waited.

By the time Liz and Kyle showed up, Alex had already poured himself another cup and went to unlock the door. If he looked like he hadn’t slept (which he knew he did), they didn’t say anything as he let them in. Kyle did, however, reach to give him a short hug because they did that now. Alex still thought it was a little weird, but he appreciated the effort and sometimes he actively wanted the affection.

“So, what’s going on? Is Michael here? Because if not, you should’ve had me bring him,” Liz said. Alex huffed a laugh.

“Yeah, he’s definitely present,” he said. It wasn’t funny. Michael seemed amused anyway. “There’s no point in me beating around the bush or anything, so basically Michael fucked with a piece of tech, got stuck in it, and when I touched it he got stuck in my head.”

They stared at him.

“Like… you can’t stop thinking about him stuck or…” Liz trailed off. Alex snorted.

“No, like his entire psyche is currently existing in my head. He says hi and to tell you your haircut looks nice,” Alex said. He didn’t notice she even got a haircut. Their eyes widened. “We’ve messed around with the piece for hours and nothing is working, so we called you over.”

“Okay, um,” Liz breathed, nodding her head, “Yeah, absolutely. Just, like, give me a minute. This is insane. He’s really in your head? Where’s his body?”

“Downstairs. And, yeah, he’s really in my head,” Alex said.

A warm feeling started to burn in Alex’s stomach, one that he was rather certain didn’t belong to him. It still took him a minute to realize it was Michael’s and that was… a lot. Apparently, every other feeling of his Alex had felt was one they were sharing at the same time. Good to know that they were both guilty and existential as hell.

“Okay. Wow. Right. I’m going downstairs. I wish you would’ve warned me! I could’ve brought some more stuff,” Liz said as if she didn’t have a backpack full of things already. She headed down the ladder with no hesitation.

“And you’re okay?” Kyle asked, keeping his voice low. His eyebrows were pulled together in concern as he searched Alex’s face. “That’s like a major invasion of privacy. Are you sure he didn’t do this on purpose?”

‘Dude, what the fuck.’

Alex snorted, “You know he can hear you, right?”

Kyle blinked a few times and then very clearly decided he didn’t care because he eyed him very deliberately.

“Tell me if you need anything. I’ll get you some sedatives or whatever if we can’t figure this out because I know you haven’t slept,” Kyle said, squeezing his arm. Alex nodded in appreciation, but they both knew he wouldn’t be accepting anything. “Coffee fresh?”

“Yep, just brewed it.”

“And you’ve eaten lunch?”

“I will,” Alex said. Kyle raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. “I will!”

“I’ll make you some toast and meet you down there with Liz,” Kyle decided and then headed into the kitchen. Alex rolled his eyes, but he listened without argument.

‘It still freaks me out how close you two are. It’s so weird. He’s still so punchable.’

“His jaws way more chiseled now, though, so it might hurt,” Alex pointed out, his words muffled around his coffee mug as he carefully made his way down the ladder.

“Huh?” Liz answered.

“Was talking to Michael,” Alex said and chose not to be embarrassed by it as he hit the floor. If he was, that would just be more than he could physically handle right now.

“Oh. Okay. Right,” Liz said, blinking as she stood up straighter, “Sorry, this is just so weird.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty weird for me too,” Alex said.

His eyes drifted to Michael’s body where Liz had clearly already gotten started. She was questionably comfortable with his body, having already taken a blood sample and written down his current state in detail in her notebook. Sometimes she worried Alex with this whole thing, but Michael didn’t seem to have any arguments.

‘She’s basically like my best friend after you. We’ve done a million experiments on each other, so I don’t really care what she does to me,’ Michael explained anyway. Alex nodded and let him continue to think about what she was going to do. He could tell this was going to be rather exhausting having to play translator, but he supposed it was worth it.

“Okay, so, he’s stable. It’s obviously a different kind of stasis than the pod, but he is in stasis. I checked his blood under his microscope and all of his blood cells are basically frozen in time. Oh, I need to check his hair and his skin cells. This is insane,” Liz rambled. Alex could feel Michael’s residual excitement start to build in his body. He almost felt bad he couldn’t enjoy this with her.

For Michael’s benefit, even though it made him uncomfortable, Alex looked under the microscope at the frozen cells. His skin cells were equally frozen and his hair‒well, his hair looked like all hair does, but Michael seemed to think it looked different and he would just accept that.

Liz picked up the piece and marveled at it for a moment, grinning wildly. Alex felt himself doing the same solely based on Michael’s emotions which was, honestly, too much. He tried not to think about it too much. If he didn’t, he wasn’t sure anything would get done.

Alex very quickly realized that he couldn’t keep up with Michael’s thoughts and his headache was strengthening by the second even after he ate the toast Kyle decided to force-feed him. He, however, kept that to a minimum and tried to carry a conversation with Liz by repeating Michael. He made it a good thirty minutes before he hit a point where he wasn’t making sense due to Michael’s brain saying three different things while Alex was talking.

“Okay, wait, stop,” Alex said, dropping his head in his hand. It was throbbing and Michael hadn’t said anything. “What the fuck, does your head hurt all the time?”

‘More times than not, yeah,’ Michael answered. Alex shook his head and rubbed his temples. ‘I’m sorry. Do you have medicine? Nothing usually works on me outside of acetone and that only dulls it. I’m sure something works on you, though, right? Do you have ibuprofen? I know you have Tylenol upstairs in the bathroom, but I’m not sure if that would work and maybe it’d make you tired and you’re already tired enough which would make things a little bit more difficult since we’re trying to‒’

“Michael. Please,” Alex whispered. He stopped rambling where Alex could hear, but the buzzing never stopped. Liz and Kyle, on the other hand, were silent. “Kyle, can you go get my Aleve from upstairs?”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Kyle said, his footsteps rather quickly heading up the ladder.

Alex sat there for a moment, rubbing his temples and breathing. This time, he could feel the separation from his own guilt and nerves and Michael’s guilt and nerves and he could feel where they blended. He needed a fucking nap.

“Alex, do you need a break?” Liz asked. Alex huffed a laugh.

“Are you going to figure it without me translating for him?” he asked. Liz didn’t answer and that was answer enough.

Alex took a deep breath and lowered himself to the floor beside the couch. He could feel the guilty, yet restless energy burning within him that all belonged to Michael. He wished he was out and so he could watch him ramble, watch him pace, just watch.

‘What can I do?’ Michael asked.

“Nothing,” Alex responded. Liz, by now, caught on that he was simply talking to himself.

Kyle returned with a glass of water and a doctor-approved tweak of Aleve. Alex took it graciously, downed the rest of the water, and then returned his head to his hands.

They’d barely made any progress, namely because they didn’t know where to start other than the piece which Alex and Michael had already worked with. Alex, under Michael’s instruction, had gotten out the other pieces in hopes that would solve the problem, but that hadn’t made a difference.

Maybe they were stuck like this.

‘We aren’t stuck,’ Michael said, ‘I’m getting my body back.’

Alex felt when his breath hitched and felt when tears pricked his eyes. He brought his knee in closer and bowed his head against it so he could at least pretend he wasn’t losing it. But he was. He was overwhelmed and fucking terrified and he wanted Michael.

‘Alex,’ Michael said, ‘If anyone can figure this out, it’s us, alright? Just take a breath and I’ll try to dial it back. I’m sorry.’

‘You shouldn’t have to apologize for just existing as yourself. This just isn’t fair,’ Alex thought back at him, not really eager to let Kyle and Liz in on their conversation. Part of him was still scared this would make it harder to keep his thoughts to himself, but, after their dreams, he was beginning to feel like it didn’t matter.

‘It’s not fair. Not at all. But maybe there’s a reason for it? Like, why would this exist if there wasn’t a reason for it, you know? Why would they make it if it was just a torture mechanism?’ Michael asked. Alex bit the inside of his cheek. ‘I’m trying to think of what use this could have.’

‘Couples therapy?’ Alex offered. Michael’s amusement lit him up for a moment, a silent acknowledgment that he’d probably laugh if he had a body to do it with. ‘Missions, maybe? Or coaching. It’s an effective communication device.’

‘Maybe when they were coming here they only had space for so many people, so they had some people leave their body on their planet,’ Michael suggested.

‘Maybe. We probably won’t ever know. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s okay,’ Michael said, but they were both keenly aware that it wasn’t actually okay that they knew so little, ‘I just need to get back into my own body.’

“What’s the next step?” Alex asked.

‘Give us the rest of the day to try and figure this out and, if not, then we might have to call Isobel in,’ Michael said at the same time Liz responded with, “I think we should keep trying and if we can’t figure it out by tonight, we get Max and Isobel to see if they can think of anything.”

Alex huffed a laugh and raised his head.

“Okay. Let’s keep trying.”

Hours later, Alex found himself in his bathroom again. This time he was a little more determined to actually bathe. He felt gross and just needed something to make him feel better. The food and medicine Kyle gave him only helped so much and their constant stream of failures didn’t make any of it better.

Kyle and Liz with apologetic faces, but they had a clear determination to want to continue trying to figure it out. However, the four of them agreed to bring in Isobel and Max because this very clearly was going to need some more alien reinforcement.

“I’m really not looking forward to Isobel being in my head,” Alex sighed, leaning over to turn on the faucet. He felt until the water was hot before plugging the drain and sat himself down on his stool to wait for the tub to fill.

‘I know, but I’m hoping she’ll be able to see something we can’t. We aren’t really in a mindscape right now. Maybe she’ll see a way to put me back,’ Michael encouraged. Alex sighed and unbuttoned his jeans.

“I get why we need her, I just don’t know what I’m going to have control over. And, no offense, but I don’t really trust Isobel to be respectful or quiet about anything she does see,” Alex admitted. Michael’s instant understanding and agreement was palpable.

‘I’ll try to make sure she keeps it to herself. She’s getting better,’ Michael said. Alex sighed and hoped he was right.

Alex pulled off his jeans and tossed them into his hamper and went to his prosthetic. Thinking about his hesitation from last night almost felt ridiculous‒as if Michael would say anything about him bathing‒but he knew the circumstances tonight were a little different. He felt different.

Once his prosthetic was removed completely, he put it outside the bathroom door and then closed it. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed that with his jeans and then closed his eyes. His head still hurt and he was exhausted, but he needed to bathe. He was gross. Michael, for his part, stayed quiet for the first time since that morning. It was honestly a blessing though he felt guilty about it.

The bathtub got to where Alex wanted it and he shut off the water, moved to take off his boxers. He threw them alongside his other clothes and then skillfully moved himself onto the ledge of the tub. Alex swiveled around and put his foot in the bath before slowly lowering himself in. He could feel his muscles instantly reacting to the warm water. He needed this.

Alex sunk into the water until it touched his chin and closed his eyes, reveling in the warmth of it. There was something endlessly lonely about having someone you love stuck in your brain and not being able to touch them. It was cruel, almost.

Michael’s buzzing seemed to calm a bit as they sat there in nothing but the hot water and each other’s company. Alex had imagined bathing with him more than once and never had it crossed his mind that the first time he would get the chance, Michael’s body wouldn’t be there to experience it. They were having too many firsts this way.

All of them led right back to being too close, too much, too aware. He hated it and yet he had never felt more seen by Michael Guerin in his entire life.

Cruel and laughable.

‘Alex,’ Michael said, soft and warm like he had late the night before, ‘Can I use your hand? The same one as earlier. I just… wanna try something.’

Alex’s heart picked up speed in the same way it had when he held his hand and he nodded without hesitation.

His left arm tingled and then went numb as Michael took over. The hand Michael was in control of glided across the top of the water and then rested over his heart. He rubbed his hand into his skin, slowly making his way up to his neck and over his jaw. Michael felt over his features again, only this time focusing on his lips.

His thumb pressed into Alex’s bottom lip and slowly dragged his mouth open. Alex huffed a laugh and opened it further, letting Michael press the pad of his thumb against his tongue. Alex bit down gently and felt a burst of adoration flood through him. It stole his breath for a moment.

Michael pulled out of his mouth slowly and slid back down to his chest and then to the arm Alex still had control over. He felt over his bicep and his forearm, feeling each muscle as if they were something to behold on their own which really only had Alex’s picking up speed.

‘Why have I never taken my time with you before?’ Michael asked. They both knew. Neither of them said anything.

Alex tilted his head back and closed his eyes as Michael’s fingers dragged over his neck and then dipped beneath the water. He traced over his chest and his stomach, slow and curious despite the familiarity of it. Michael touched his thigh and dragged his fingertips up and down before sliding between his thighs.

Alex caught his wrist and Michael obediently paused.

“Michael,” Alex whispered, his breathing noticeably heavier as he tried his damnedest to ignore the tight, warm feeling in his stomach, “Michael.”

‘Yeah?’

“What happens if we can’t figure it out?” Alex asked, “What happens if you’re stuck?”

‘Don’t think like that,’ Michael answered.

“We have to think like that. Eventually, we’re going to have to go back to work, eventually, we’re going to have to pretend to carry on. What happens if you’re still stuck in my head?” Alex demanded.

‘Don’t think like that,’ Michael repeated, ‘It won’t come to that. We will fix it.’

“But what if we can’t?”

‘Alex, listen to me. No matter what happens, I won’t be stuck in your head for the rest of your life. This is temporary regardless of what that means for me. I’m not making your life miserable.’

Alex breathed out like he’d been hit. He didn’t ask what that meant. He didn’t ask how long Michael was willing to try. He didn’t ask anything.

“I miss you,” Alex breathed, “I want… I want‒”

‘I know. Me too.’

They sat there for a moment with that and Alex wanted to say he loved him, just in case. But they had time. They had to have time.

And he didn’t want any more firsts this way.

Alex let go of his wrist and Michael’s hand rested on his legs. He let his eyes close again and tried to relax as Michael moved again. Alex almost expected him to reach between his thighs again, and yet Michael just rested his hand on his face.

Michael cradled his jaw in his hand and rubbed his thumb over his cheek slow and methodically. Alex squeezed his eyes shut and leaned into the touch. If he kept his eyes closed and if he focused hard enough, he could almost feel his breath on the back of his neck.

‘I’m here. I’ve got you.’

Alex woke up long before his alarm again.

Dreams of angry foster parents bled into dreams of angry drill sergeants bled into active battle bled into his father with any object he could get his hand on. It was miserable and Alex had to wonder why they couldn’t have a nice dream. Just one. On where Alex could pretend to touch him again and he’d be warm.

Despite having Michael in his head, Alex couldn’t help but feel even more lonely than he had when he climbed into bed. They’d tried to shut off the lights with his telekinesis again before bed and it was a little more painful than the first time and Michael vowed not to use it again and he’d gone quiet. And Alex was lonely.

“You know what’s crazy? It’s only been, like, 36 hours. Why does it feel so much longer?” Alex whispered, voice deep from sleep.

‘Because it has been longer. I was practically living in your house and yet I didn’t do anything. I wasted so much time,’ Michael said. Alex wanted to argue, but he found himself not having much to add. They had wasted so much time and now they weren’t even sure what time they would have.

“Me too.”

‘No, Alex, you’ve known what you wanted for a year now at least. You’ve made it clear. I kept trying to wait for, like, a moment when it felt right. And I’m beginning to think it just never felt right because I wasn’t with you. Self-defeating cycle or whatever,’ Michael said, very clearly annoyed in the emotions that filled him.

“You’re allowed to take your time.”

‘But I was never going to be perfectly ready. I’m always going to struggle. But I could’ve had you. God, I was so lonely and you were right there.’

“I’m here now,” Alex whispered. Michael’s self-deprecation was louder than Alex was willing to take.

He laid in bed for a few seconds longer before he got up and reached for his crutches. He was lonely. Michael was lonely. This was so stupid and ridiculous and he hated every goddamn thing about it. He just wanted him back. Was that such a hard request?

Clearly, it was. The universe didn’t want them to have anything.

Alex made his way to the bunker and ignored the worry Michael was experiencing as he slid his crutches down the ladder. He made sure they landed out of the way before heading down himself, hopping down one rung at a time while having his arms carry the brunt of his weight. Michael managed not to say anything.

Once he hit the ground, Alex picked up his crutches again and made his way to the couch where Michael’s body was. He rested his crutches down on the floor and then gently pulled the alien tech off of Michael to put it on the counter. Then he pulled the corner of the blanket up and crawled inside.

‘Alex,’ Michael whispered, sounding almost pitiful. Alex just cuddled closer. He was cold and unbreathing and it was unsettling as hell, but it was Michael.

Of all the things they hadn’t done, they had done this. Alex had slept with his head on his shoulder or his chest more than once. Michael had slept fully on top of him even more. They always slept well together. Even when the nightmares came, there was a safety in having another body to hold. And so Alex held him.

He tugged Michael’s limp arm around him and layered his hand over his to keep it on his hip. He rested his head on his chest and draped his leg over Michael’s thighs. Then Alex closed his eyes.

‘Get some sleep, Alex,’ Michael said, ‘I’ll hold you for real soon.’

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Alex murmured.

‘I fully plan to keep it. Get some rest.’

And Alex did. He never actually fell asleep hard enough to actually dream which was both great and terrible. He was still tired when he opened his eyes again, but he didn’t have any dreams to add to the list and that in itself was refreshing. Michael was still a cold, unmoving rock beneath him. Alex didn’t move.

He laid there for a long time, rubbing circles in his chest with his thumb.

Eventually, Alex made his way upstairs to get presentable whenever he realized Liz, Kyle, Max, and Isobel were probably on their way. Michael was quiet in his mind, but the ever-present buzzing wasn’t gone so he took that as a good sign.

Alex got dressed and brushed his teeth and got his prosthetic on and managed to even eat breakfast by the time they pulled up.

‘It’s gonna be okay. Hopefully, we’ll figure it out today,’ Michael said. Alex sighed and nodded, sipping his coffee as he unlocked the door.

“Hopefully.”

“So you trapped my brother in your brain?” Isobel greeted. Alex managed a smile.

“Good morning to you too.”

“Can he hear us?” she wondered, eyeing Alex. He nodded easily. “Michael, this was a really weird way for you to try and get a boyfriend.”

‘That’s not what happened!’

“He said that’s not what happened,” Alex repeated. Isobel rolled her eyes like she didn’t buy it. Alex was too ready to get this over with to argue. “Let’s go downstairs and you can see what you need to do. There’s coffee in the kitchen if you guys want any.”

No one went and got coffee.

By the time they made it down to the bunker and Alex sat on the floor beside the couch, he found himself feeling like a spectacle. They were all staring at him and Michael with confusion and fear and pity‒and he was more than slightly miserable about it. Michael murmured encouraging words, but it only did so much.

“I hate seeing him like that,” Isobel said, suddenly a lot less flippant now that she was actually seeing Michael laid out and unbreathing and cold. Alex watched a series of emotions cross her face and couldn’t help but think about how this was the second brother she was seeing look dead.

‘I’m not dead. I’m going to be okay,’ Michael insisted. Alex nodded. He hoped he was right.

“Me too. Can we get started?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Isobel said. She quickly knelt beside him and beside the couch.

‘Wait, before she starts, we all three should be holding the piece,’ Michael said quickly. Alex licked his lips and nodded.

“Michael says we should hold the piece. And, Kyle, stand by to check vitals whenever he comes to. Max, just be ready to do your little healing thing just in case,” Alex instructed. Kyle nodded and Max opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was immediately shut down by Liz and Isobel simultaneously glaring at him. Then he nodded.

Alex took a deep breath as grabbed the piece. He pulled Michael’s hand off the couch to touch it as well and Isobel grabbed onto the other end. Alex locked eyes with Isobel and instantly started to feel her trying to pry. Instinct and training told him not to let her.

‘Alex. Relax. I’m right here. It’s gonna be okay,’ Michael coaxed. He kept whispering sweet words of encouragement and Alex did his best to let himself go as he started at Isobel.

Slowly but surely, he phased out of consciousness and into where she wanted him.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, what is this?”

Alex was sitting cross-legged on a bench of some sort and everything around them was pitch black. Well, mostly. Isobel was far to his right and across from him was Michael. To his left, the piece floated and lit the empty space well enough that he could see their faces. Isobel was fully mobile and aware, but Michael seemed to be just as catatonic as he was in real life.

“Why does he look like that?” Alex asked, “He’s obviously awake, I’ve been hearing him in my head.”

“I don’t know, why does your mindscape look like this? I’ve never been in one that’s all black before,” Isobel commented.

Alex could barely give her the time of day as he stared at Michael. It took him a moment but he eventually realized he was vibrating so quickly it was hard to catch. No wonder there was incessant buzzing. Alex wanted to reach out to him, to touch him, but he couldn’t seem to move.

“Jesus, this place is ridiculous, I feel like I’m walking in tar,” Isobel said. Alex finally looked at her and she was moving, but it was in slow motion. It was really fucking frustrating.

“I think it’s because I don’t want you to see anything,” Alex admitted. Isobel scoffed.

“Well, will you let up enough for me to try and fix this?” she demanded. Alex swallowed and looked at Michael and then to the piece. He really didn’t want to.

“Tell me what the plan is first,” Alex said. Despite how irritated she very clearly was, Isobel gave him an answer.

“I’m going to lead Michael to the piece and then I’m going to get out of your mindscape and then go into his and lead him away. That sounds like the easiest route,” Isobel said. Alex bit his bottom lip as he stared at Michael. That did sound like the easiest route. And that’s primarily what made him nervous.

He didn’t like doing this without hearing Michael’s opinion.

“Listen, Alex, maybe if you let up, he’ll be more aware and we can ask what he thinks we should do,” Isobel said. Alex stayed quiet for a moment.

He made his decision quietly while staring at the blurred outline of Michael’s body. Light started to filter into the space and Isobel’s movement was made a bit easier as she headed to Michael. As the light flooded in, so did memories.

Michael’s voice‒never with someone I like as much as I like you. Alex’s voice‒you’re mine. His father’s voice‒too many to pick out anything in particular. Isobel glanced over at him as his father’s voice started to overpower Alex’s own thoughts.

“Stop it, focus on him,” Alex said. Isobel took a breath and nodded.

Michael’s blurred figure slowly opened his eyes, blinking and tired. Alive. The sight alone was enough to bring him a bit of comfort. Alex listened as Isobel ran her plan by him and he nodded, glancing over at Alex. He gave a smile and Alex couldn’t help but give one right back.

In the background, his own voice and Michael’s voice overpowered his father’s.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” Michael told him, echo-y and honest. Alex nodded.

“And I’ll see you.”

Michael took Isobel’s hand and she swiftly led him over to the piece with practiced ease. She gave one more glance around Alex’s mindscape before she waved and everything went black again.

Alex opened his eyes to see both Isobel and Michael still out of it. Michael’s buzzing no longer filled his head.

Alex gave a breath of relief and slumped back, his hands bracing against the floor as he waited.

It was painfully quiet as they all watched Isobel and Michael hold onto the piece with bated breaths. It worked. Hopefully. It was working. Michael wasn’t in his head. That was good. This was good. Things were going in the right direction.

Or he thought that until Isobel opened her eyes and let go of the piece. She didn’t look satisfied or relieved as she stared at Michael’s body. His still, cold, unbreathing body. They all waited.

“Where is he?” Alex asked after a moment, “Why isn’t he waking up?”

“He… He said he could do it on his own. I thought he had it…” Isobel said softly. Alex choked on air and stared at her with wide eyes.

“Well go back in and see where he’s at! Maybe he got lost!” Alex demanded. She didn’t look his way as she stared at her brother.

“No, I saw him leave. If he’s not there, then I don’t know…” Isobel trailed off.

In an instant, Alex was on his knees and trying his best to avoid the piece as he shook Michael’s shoulders.

“Wake up,” he told him, “Wake up, you promised me you’d see me.”

A few more seconds passed without him and Isobel scrambled back to grab Max’s arm, tugging him forward. She was snapping at him to do something, but Alex could barely hear as he shook him. He needed him to wake up.

“Alex, move, I’m gonna try to get up, but if you’re touching him it could hurt you,” Max said. Alex moved away faster than he logically should’ve, but Max quickly stepped in and put his hand over his heart.

Before any funky alien healing could happen, though, Michael’s eyes opened and he took a deep breath.

“Fuck, my head hurts.”

And for the first time in days, Alex laughed.

After Michael insisted he was fine, let Liz and Kyle take vitals, and insisted he was fine some more, they eventually gave them some space under the condition that Michael had to get lunch with Isobel after he got some rest.

The house was quiet, the doors were locked, and the sun was shining through the windows as Alex sat on his bed and Michael sat across from him. They were both changed into nightclothes and staring at each other, feeling familiar in a completely new way. Alex had no doubt that his joy was nothing but his own.

It was nice to have quiet in his mind again. Nicer to have Michael here. Even nicer than that, to have Michael be on the same page.

“Alex,” Michael said, slowly like he was testing the word in his mouth again. Alex found himself smiling a bit too wide.

“Michael,” Alex said back. Michael smiled just as wide. “In the nicest way possible, I never want to get near your brain ever again.”

Michael laughed softly and, fuck, it was a nice sound. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it.

“And in the nicest way possible, I never want to be stuck inside you ever again,” Michael said. His tongue pressed behind his teeth as he smirked. “I mean, not in that way, at least.”

Alex shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“When are you going to touch me with your own hands?” Alex asked. Michael sat up a little straighter.

“I thought we were meant to take a nap.”

“Why can’t we do both?”

Michael didn’t need to be asked a second time as he lunged forward, easily pressing Alex into the mattress. For the first time in a long time, Alex was kissed without hesitation and without a time limit and without restrictions. He was kissed like he was known and loved by someone he knew and loved.

Michael’s hands gripped his sides and slowly slid up, feeling him and gripping him tightly. He settled between Alex’s thighs and kissed him breathless and touched him anywhere he could reach. Even the way he grabbed his knee and his elbows felt like gentle caresses, carefully and deliberately.

“I am going to take my time with you,” Michael whispered into his mouth, “And I am going to savor every minute of it.”

Alex grinned and tugged him closer, wanting to have every inch of himself pressed against every inch of Michael. He was warm and breathing and his heart was beating. All things Alex would never take for granted.

“I’m going to put in the work this time, Alex,” Michael promised, pulling Alex off the bed just enough to grab the blanket and throw it over them. With a tilt of the head and no ridiculous reaction at all, the light shut off and the curtains closed and it was just them. Separate, but together. “This time I’m not wasting time.”

“Me neither,” Alex hummed. Michael’s hands slid beneath his shirt, over his bare stomach and chest, and breathed him in.

“I love you,” Michael said, honest and out loud, “And I know you know that I love you, but I love you. So much.”

“I love you too,” Alex said, “And I know you know that I love you, but I love you.”

Michael grinned and wrapped his arms around him, slowly lowering himself as he left a trail of kisses from his mouth to his neck. His head hit Alex’s shoulder and his body relaxed on top of his. Fully and completely.

Because he was here. And he was breathing. And he was his.

And Alex finally fell asleep.

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #alex + body

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tomhardydallasstarsgirl · 4 years ago

Text

FUCK.YOU.ANGEL.REYES

Chapter 3.5

Angel Reyes x Black Reader

Warnings: Crude Nasty Hot and Dirty Language. Oral Sex Unprotected Sex. Female receiving. Bodily Fluids

Summary: You return to Santo Padre after being gone for nearly 15 years. Your life and also others will change. Affecting everything you hold dear including your Mayan MC Family.

Not requested by anyone. This is a short Chapter solely dedicated to Angel basically being Angel. ENJOY PEEPS!!!

Pic credit by @claytoncardenas_angels from Instagram

A thunderstorm has arrived to Santo Padre with howling winds, loud crashes of thunder and flashes of lightning. You were asleep after yet another lengthy round of sex with Angel who was holding you close as you two were asleep. That was while the moon was out. But, now it’s a different story as you two are awake again. Just like the raging storm outside there’s a whole different one of pain, passion and so much pleasure going on under Angel’s roof as he just has your back pinned against his heavy shower glass door as a mixture of cries and lustful pleas are mixed with the hot showering steam. You have your legs around him his tall solid figure as he drags more orgasms from your body. That feeling that was once wrapped so tightly in the pit of your stomach was never reached or challenged by any man before Angel also which wasn’t many either. He has single-handedly been able to push, tease, manipulate your body to the edge as he’d watch you dangle before taking the plunge into the abyss of ecstasy. His eyes, teeth, voice, lips, thick ringed fingers and deadly tongue have all done a insurmountable assault on you. Of course, not including that Double XXL King Cobra big dick energy swinging between his legs. Its funny how even before letting him touch you in such an intimate way he latched onto you in more ways than one. He occupied your mind loving there rent free as he eased into your heart little by little and grabbed a hold of your soul by revealing himself by warming up to you. He pulls you out of the shower as he dries your body slowly and on purpose. Then he walks you back to his bedroom. Grabs a blindfold covering your eyes as he sits you down at the foot of the bed.

“Don’t move mama. I’ll be right back”, he whispers as he kisses your lips softly disappearing for a minute.

All you can hear is the rain falling with the heavy winds as your breathing was steady until you felt the nearness and warm heat of a body coming near you. What you can’t see is that Angel is carrying a small tray in tow as he places it on the floor near your feet. A pair of strong hands touched your thighs as rough pads of his fingers trace the outlines of them as your breath slightly quickens. The feeling is making you nervous but, at the same time it’s exhilarating. Once the touching stops he stepped away from you heading toward the head of his bed. You can hear as if something was heavy and chained was being put in place at the headboard.

He comes back to you as he stares at you as you anxiously chew on your bottom lip while your curiosity is like a runaway train. He grabs a strawberry as he holds it in front of your face rubbing it against your lips.

“Hmmm is that a strawberry daddy?”, you ask as a smile appears on your face.

He doesn’t right away as he dips it in chocolate dripping down his thick finger as a he places it toward you lips as you take a bite. You moan at the taste as he watches you lick the extra chocolate from your lips. He nearly finishes the rest of it as he holds the last piece on his own lips. Moving closer to you as you pull him in taking the rest into your mouth as he lets out a feral growl as you suck on his bottom lip. He’s suddenly overheated and his dick is hard as fucking steel as he grabs you picking you up placing your body flat on his bed.

“Damn my necklace looks beautiful between these breasts I’m going to lick and suck the hell out of”, as your mouth waters with anticipation.

He grabs each of your wrists as they become shackled to his headboard while his hard dick keeps brushing your left leg as a yelp escape your lips. He laughs under his breath as he leaves your legs free.

“Alexa. Play Living Room Flow for me”, asks Angel.

“Sure thing Daddy. Anything for you”, the feminine voice responds back to him as you raise a quizzical eyebrow and shaking your head.

Suddenly music comes thumping from his sound system as Jhene sultry voice seeps through his sound system.

I’m so glad you called right on time

You must have just read my mind

If we skipped the small talk, want you now

But, I don’t have to stay til mornin’

I don’t have to, I don’t have pack no clothes

I am really not that lonely

We finished, we finished and I will go

You gasp and hold you legs together for the simple fact that Jhene gets you in the mood for sex. Unless Angel knows now that her music is your Achilles heel and makes you melt to do just about anything.

He doesn’t say a single word as you only hear his heavy ragged breathing as you pool between your legs. So there you are chained to Angel’s headboard with a blindfold over your eyes when you as that moment feel him snake between your legs as your heart jumps into your throat. Suddenly hear as if something is being shakened in a can when something cold is applied to your belly button as you jump from the coldness of it. A split second later it hits you that this man is putting whip cream on your body so you know what’s going to happen next. His hot tongue laps up every drop of the whip cream as you want to free your hands from the cuffs to touch Angel so badly as you bit down on your lip. You call his name repeatedly as he continues to torment you slowly. He grabs your hips to hold you in place.

“You keep your fine ass still dulce. Or else”, he demands as you stay still not wanting the latter of his threat.

You’re body is still as a board as you feel a sticky and dripping sensation on your skin running between you breasts and on top of your hard as diamond nipples. A slow and agonizing slick trail of his tongue leaves you gasping and begging as he sucks up the honey. Putting your body in hyper drive as you feel two fingers dip between your folds as the pad of his thumb making tiny circles to you clit.

“FUCK ANGEL!! Make me come daddy!!!”, you when as he circles your clit faster as your hips move too.

He must’ve felt you were close to euphoria as he whispers to you.

“I told you to not move didn’t I?”, he whispers in your ear as your breath is ragged and uneven as rubs your clit as your upper body slowly leaves his bed.

Just as you were about to cum for him he removes his hand as you growl in anger.

“WHAT FUCK YOU DO THAT FOR ANGEL”, as you yell at him in frustration as he laughs at you.

“What fucking part of be still you don’t understand little girl? I fucking meant that shit”, as he toyed with you some more.

He then grabs the chocolate syrup as he dips his thick finger into it. He drizzles the syrup onto your folds and clit as he grabs your legs pinning you down so you can’t move an inch. He dives in laying his tongue flat as he suck up the syrup as he gasp and cry his name. You so badly wanted to touch and grab onto Angel as he assaulted your pussy with his stiff tongue and thick full beard as tears fall heavily from your eyes.

“Daddy please let me touch you baby”, you yell in a crying sob as you beg Angel for relief.

Of course, Angel being the brick wall he can be licks deeper and faster as you pull at the restraints wanting to be set free. You’re thinking to yourself as your running full steam ahead as Angel is nearing you towards that infinite orgasm you’ve been within reach as tears fall faster from your eyes as your so want to squirt all over his beautiful beard. Just as your nearing the finish line you whisper his name non-stop and he does it again pulling back from you as your now beyond pissed as your now cussing him out.

He does nothing but, guffaws with such cockiness you are practically beside yourself at this point.

“I fucking hate you Angel Reyes. I literally can’t stand you right now”, as you spew anger and cuss words.

He grabs you by the waist as he yanks your lower half toward him as you attempt to resist him.

“Colibri this is a losing battle of you trying to fight and rebel against me. Especially since I know you want Daddy to stretch out this tight ass pussy you been waiting for. All you want to do is wet and squirt all over this dick too. So, when you think you denying me you actually denying yourself”, he whispers in your ear as his tongue flicks your lobe as it sets your body a blaze. You cry uncontrollably as you plead with him to satisfy you so desperately. To a certain extent he’s enjoying this teasing game of cat and mouse he has going with you. But deep down he just wants to fuck you so hard that he’ll be the only man on your mind. He wants to be so consumed with all of you physically and mentally it’s tearing him up to an extent to see you begging, crying and pleading for him to fuck the living day lights out of you. So, he lets bygones by bygones and gives you just exactly what you needed. As another song ends he asks Alexa for another request.

“Play When we by Tank for me”, says Angel as a moan escapes from your lips.

He removes the restraints from your wrists as he softly kisses them, he goes for the blindfold as you move your head from his reach.

“Leave it on daddy. I just want to feel you”, as Angel rolls out a growl from his lips as he’s turned on and his dick is bricking up for your pleasure.

“Get on all fours baby. Head down ass up”, commands Angel as his voice has gotten deeper.

You bite your lip as music pours out from his system again.

When we

Mmm

When we

I like it when you lose it

I like it when you go there

I like the way you use it

Angel rubs his nose along your folds as you hold onto his bed sheets.

I like it that you don’t play fair

Recipe for a disaster

When I’m just try’na take my time

Stroke is getting’ deep and faster

You’re screamin’ like I’m out of line

His tongue is flattened against your clit as circles and sucks on as you gasp for air

“Don’t stop daddy don’t you dare fucking stop. I wanna come all over your beard please”, as you spur him on. You feel to finger hook inside your center as you buck your round ass against his face. He lets out a moan telling you that he likes it as you pump against his stiff faster. His licks against your clit are more sloppy and profound as you start to shake uncontrollably.

“Oh fuck Angel it’s right there daddy take me to it pleeeease”, you beg as he starts to smacks your ass cheeks one at a time back at forth. Those butterflies in your stomach start to flutter out of control as you take to jump.

“Come for daddy baby. Wet up your beard you love so much” as you lose your mind as you spasm against his bed.

Without noticing “Wet the Bed” is playing as a split-second later Angel enters you from behind filling you completely drawing all the air from you as he steadies himself inside you. He pulls your hair to meet his long deep strokes as he reaches around to rub your swollen clit. You come instantly as you slowly try to pull away from his deafening strokes as he laughs at you.

Bring it forward, don’t you run run

I don’t want to be a minute man

Baby you’re just like a storm

Rainin’ on me girl, your soakin wet, ooh whoa

He grabs his cell phone feeling himself at the moment as he starts filming. He snaps a couple of salacious pics of his dick penetrating in and out of you as your moans and cries mix with the skin to skin contact getting louder over the music.

“Fuck girl I love hearing the sweet sound of my dick slapping against my pussy and sweet ass. This is the money shot right here Colibri”, he grunts as he strokes faster connecting to your sweet spot over and over. His strokes are erratic and slowly losing control. He regains as he grabs your waist as he flips you on top of him as he strokes upward into you as he grounds his feet into the mattress.

“You’re mine forever Senorita”.

“Always and forever Mi dulce”.

“No one can’t take my place baby.”

His words alone spare you nothing as you come for him again.

“You hear me? Unless I must remind you again”, as his hot breath is against you ear sending you into over load as he digs his thick fingers into your skin leaving noticeable bruises.

“Yes daddy. Please remind me”, you moan as Angel flips you onto your back as his darker side kicks in. He removes the blindfold as he see you teary brown eyes as he rubs them away. He grabs your legs and pins your knees to meet your shoulders as he moves back and forth inside of you

His beds starts to rock back in forth against the wall as he digs deeper and harder into you. Sobbing cries are grabbed from you as you dig your nails into his skin as you hear his bed creak back and forth from him pounding into you.

“Soy tan adicto a ti papi”, you moan to him as he kisses you with such power behind it his kiss leaves you a sobbing muttering mess.

“Mi Mundo, Mi Todo”, Angel whispers to you as he bits your bottom lip again.

Your eyes glaze over as you dig your fingers into his hair as your signal to him that you about to cum again.

“Come with me daddy. Let me feel every drop of that pearly essence inside of me”, you whisper as you two come together as so strong that you both yell to the top of your lungs.

You both stay in the same position as you both began to breath evenly again as his head is resting against the crook of your neck.

“I love you Angel Ignacio Reyes” you whisper as your fingers play with his hair.

“Te quiero Y/F/N, Y/M/N, Y/L/N” as he kisses your neck softly.

“Angel I thought the frame was gonna give there for a bit” as Angel laughs at you comment.

“Nah, Colibri that’ll never happen. It’s too strong like the one who sleeps on it”, gloats Angel as you two slowly doze off to slumber as rain continues to fall.

Angel slightly adjusts his big body between your legs as there is a creaking sound.

“CRASH”, as the frame and headboard come apart.

Your eyes are wide as saucers when you realize what you said has come to fruition. Angel looks you in the eye as you attempt to suppress you sniggling giggles of laughter.

“Hmm maybe you should’ve let me come those 3 times you denied me and that would’ve never happened Angel”, you boasted.

“WHAT THE FUCK”, yells Angel as you can’t help but, laugh out loud as he tickles you.

#angel reyes #black reader #mayans mc #mayans fanfic #clayton cardenas #mayans fandom #mayans imagine #mayans fx #mayans drabble #mayans x reader #angel reyes x black!reader #angel reyes x you #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x oc #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc x reader #black!reader

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ineloqueent · 4 years ago

Text

dreaming of you

Brian May x Reader

synopsis: a storm results in a power cut, after you get locked out of your flat. luckily, your neighbour is home.

warnings: swearing, drinking

word count: 2.7k

a/n: i hope you don’t mind that i took a few creative liberties with the prompts, m’dear <3

see the moodboard here!

⭒

London, 1973

It was one of those days that simply went from bad to worse. And then fell down the stairs. And into a frying pan. And then leapt out of the frying pan and into the fire. Except the fire was not simply a fire, but a flaming pit, that was somehow also freezing cold and pitch black.

In short, you’d had a terrible day. And as life would have it, your day was about to get a hell of a lot worse.

It had started that morning, when you’d got out on the wrong side of the bed, quite literally. You had fallen face-first over your office chair, which stood mere millimetres from the left side of your bed, because you lived in a tiny flat on Camden High Street, above a shoe shop, where, in the winter there was rarely hot water in the pipes, and you were forced to scrape ice off of the bathroom mirror with a razor in order to see your reflection.

So, you’d fallen out of bed and bruised— your forehead— instantly, only to realise that you’d slept through your alarm, and forgotten to lay out clothes for the day the night before. This was then followed by a rushed— cold— shower, and jumping in front of the iced-over mirror to glimpse the large bump already forming on your forehead.

You’d made it to the kitchen, and found that you’d run out of both coffee and tea, forcing you to decide between going without caffeine, or being late to work in the process of getting a takeaway beverage. You opted for the latter, and sprinted out the front door with your scarf only half-slung around your neck.

You’d shouted a hasty good morning to your shop keeper neighbour from the lower floor, before running straight into your other neighbour, the one who lived right next door to you, and shared your rice paper-thin walls.

He’d narrowly avoided spilling his cup of scalding coffee down your front, but in avoiding spilling it on you, the poor bloke had instead dropped the mug at his feet, and watched it shatter to pieces, coffee spattering his white shoes.

Still, he was the first to apologise.

He was like that, Brian May. Very polite. Well-mannered. Ever the friendly neighbour.

And very beautiful. You’d noticed.

Off to work you’d rushed, once you’d helped him to clean up the mess, because you weren’t about to leave him standing in a pile of shattered porcelain, the existence of which was quite honestly your fault.

You’d been not five, not ten, not twenty, but thirty minutes late to work, and your boss had been none too pleased.

“Deadlines,” he’d told you. “We have deadlines!”

Deadlines your arse. You’d watched that man leisurely read his morning paper, with his feet on an ottoman, whilst you scrambled to get your affairs in order.

It’d then been a drab day, working at the newspaper, because it seemed that nothing was happening in the world, outside of your own little corner, where everything seemed to be happening all at once, and thus, there was no story for you to write. You’d been reduced to running fax and photocopies for various people, and— ironically— doing a coffee run, because everyone else was too busy for such a frivolous thing as a coffee run. Funny, though; for all they shunned the coffee run, they could not do without their precious caffeine to fuel their productivity.

The day seemed to drag on, and when it finally let up, the rain came down with the night, and you, with no umbrella and a good walk on either side of your tube ride, stared miserably through the window at the depressing weather.

But at home, pasta and television and your lovely, soft bed awaited you, and so, you were desperate to get home as quickly as possible.

With a sigh, you stepped outside, and let the rain soak you as you went on your way, having once read in a scientific study in the newspaper which had concluded from a series of experiments that one got more wet from running through rain than from walking through it.

The tube was crowded, as usual, and like a good citizen, you offered your seat to an elderly lady, only to realise upon second glance that she was not elderly at all, and you had just morally offended a rather prim-looking business woman. And lost your seat to the smirking man who’d watched the exchange occur.

You tracked mud all the way up to your flat, nearly breaking your foot at least twice when you nearly slipped on the rain-slick wood of the stairs.

The final nail— or so you thought— in the coffin of your terrible day came when you fumbled in your jacket pockets for your key.

The sinking feeling in your stomach was perhaps the heaviest you’d ever felt.

In your rush that morning, you’d forgotten your key.

Brian May walked up the stairs just in time to see you kick your shoe off in frustration, and let out a laugh at the sight of you.

You looked up from your abused shoe to find Brian paused at his door, one eyebrow slightly raised in concern.

“Alright?” he asked, dubiously.

You took a deep breath, in an attempt to remain calm and appear normal at the height of your despair. “I’ve had a shitty day, since before you saw me this morning, and now I’ve locked myself out of my flat. Alright, you think?”

“No,” he conceded, “but it seemed polite to ask.”

“Do you always just do what’s polite?” you sighed.

“Now that,” said Brian, inclining his head, “wasn’t very polite.”

You shook your head quickly. “That’s not what I meant. I meant it in a much more flattering way, like, you never fail to be polite, even when it’s hard to be, or when I’m sure you’d much rather say something sarcastic, or even just plain rude. You know,” you rambled, “you’re good at that—” you waved a hand, and amusement flitted across his eyes— “filter thing. You have a filter, I mean.”

“And you don’t,” he observed.

“Exactly.”

“Well, to tell you the truth, for once,” said Brian, “you look an absolute wreck, but—”

At that moment was when the real final nail of the coffin fell into place.

Because at that moment, accompanied by an ear-splitting peal of thunder, lightning struck, and eradicated the power supply of approximately one-third of the London metropolitan area.

“Bloody hell,” Brian remarked, as the rumble of thunder receded. The two of you stood in darkness on the landing, and while before, there had only been one bare lightbulb to light your surroundings, it was greatly different to be standing in total darkness when the city outside had become equally as dark.

“The power—”

You thought Brian nodded across from you where he stood, in the blackness of the hall.

“So…” you muttered. “What now?”

“Well, given our presently rather strange circumstances, I’ll offer to let you sleep on my sofa, and we can talk to Clarisse in the morning.”

Clarisse owned the shoe shop beneath your flats, and therefore your flats as well. She was yours and Brian’s landlady, but, as with her shop, she was only ever in from nine to five. Given that it was now six in the evening, she was most certainly long gone.

You considered Brian’s offer.

The two of you had shared a landing for four, almost five years now, since you’d each come to London, and yet, though you were friendly, you’d never got past having coffee together. You knew that Brian was studying astrophysics at Imperial College, which was very impressive indeed, and that he was the guitarist in a talented, but relatively unknown band. You’d encountered the other members of the band a few times here and there, every year, given that they sometimes practiced, or held meetings, at Brian’s residence. Clarisse didn’t mind the band playing, and as the next door building always had loud music pounding, there was no danger of annoying the neighbours to the point of the police being phoned, so Brian and his band were free to hold their rehearsals. You knew they were talented because you could hear them playing through said rice paper-thin walls.

And having had coffee with the man in question at least three times, you felt safe enough in taking up his offer. You only regretted that in all your years living next door to him, you’d never invited him over. Then again, he’d never invited you over either. But here he was now, in your hour of need, and that had to count for something.

You nodded gratefully, then remembered that he probably couldn’t see you all too well, and said,

“I think I’ll take up your offer. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Nonsense,” said Brian. “I’m just polite.”

You thought he might have winked, but of course, in the dark, you couldn’t be sure.

He unlocked his front door, and you followed him inside.

“Watch out for the—”

You stumbled over what felt and sounded to be a guitar case.

“Oh shit, fuck, I’m sorry,” you apologised profusely.

He chuckled. “It’s fine. It’s empty.”

“Oh, thank god,” you muttered. “Thought I’d just destroyed something, again.”

“Yeah, it was bad enough that you ruined my coffee cup this morning.”

Reflexively, you covered your blush with your hand. “Please don’t remind me,” you groaned.

“I won’t miss it,” Brian assured you, tossing his keys onto a little table. “It was a hideous thing. Something Fred got me once from Kensington Market, where he works. Pretty sure the thing was second-hand too.”

Fred. Freddie, lead singer of the band you’d only heard through walls. Funny, charming, friendly though shy.

You wrinkled your nose. “Second-hand…”

“Yeah. He’s got no taste, silly bugger.” Though Brian’s remarks sounded harsh, he spoke with a fondness that could only have been reserved for the highest regard of friendships, and you thought that he and his bandmates must be quite good friends.

“Hungry?” Brian asked. “I’ve only got some left-over lasagna, unfortunately, since I wasn’t expecting company, and it’s vegetarian, but we can heat it up in the oven, and there’s enough for the both of us.”

“Honestly, Brian, that sounds delicious.”

Your eyes had begun to adjust to the dark, and so you saw his smile in response to your comment.

“Well, great. I’ll heat that up, then. Make yourself at home. If you can find the living room,” he added with a laugh. “There’s some candles in the chest of drawers by the window, so if you get those out, I’ll find some matches too, and we can have some light.”

“Will do.”

You set about your task, managing to only stub your toe once after removing your shoes, and set up candles about the living room, where you assumed Brian intended to set up dinner.

He brought you matches, and brought with him a glass bottle.

“Wine?” he offered you, having poured himself a glass, and you accepted, because it was Friday night and what the hell.

You lit the candles as Brian went back to his cooking, and before long, he returned with the lasagna dished up.

As your host sat down across from you, you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself.

With the candles providing a rather romantic glow, catching on Brian’s pretty ringlet curls and dancing in his eyes, plus the wine, and now, the static-y music coming in over a battery-powered radio, this atmosphere was a lot cosier than you had expected.

Brian furrowed his brow at your noise of amusement. “What..?”

“Are we on a date right now?”

With a glance about the room, with its overstuffed cushions and stitched drapes, the two of you eating a meal by candlelight, Brian laughed too.

“It would seem that way.”

He raised his glass to you, and you would have been lying if you’d said that the gesture and his words hadn’t made your heart skip a beat.

You ate in silence for a few moments, until Brian spoke again.

“Would you mind awfully if we were?

The question startled you a little, and you swallowed your wine carefully.

“No,” you said honestly.

A small smile graced his mouth, before his eyes dropped to his lap. “Good,” he said softly. “Because I always meant to ask you out.”

You blurted, “Did you really?”

He smiled fully now. “Yeah. But I’ve always been so damn shy.”

You were the one to raise your glass this time. “Well, here we are now. And you’re not getting rid of me. At least until tomorrow.”

He laughed gently in response, and you thought of how lovely and warm the sound was.

If only you were as warm as that laugh. The rain that had soaked your clothes was beginning to take its toll on you.

You finished dinner in silence, and Brian cleared the plates in silence too.

He came back after washing the dishes, just in time to see you shiver.

“Oh, yes,” he said thoughtfully. “Extra blankets.”

He fetched them, but then looked down at the bundle in dismay. It was very little; you could both see that.

You watched him close his eyes briefly in the wash of candlelight, saw him grit his teeth. You waited with bated breath for what he was going to say.

“It gets really cold here at night.”

This you already knew, from your experiences at your own flat.

“Yeah.”

“And it’ll get even colder now that we’ve lost all form of central heating… Forgive me if this is entirely over the line...” he sighed, and opened his eyes, watching you with a cautiousness that betrayed nerves. “But it might be best if I sleep here, near you. Body heat, and all that.”

“Oh,” you said, blushing slightly. Stupid blush. “Yes, that’s probably a— uh— good idea.”

“Right. Um. Bathroom’s down the hall, if you wanted to chan— oh. Well. Hang on. I’ll get you a jumper or something to change into.”

Your blush only deepened, knowing that you would be wearing his clothes.

You couldn’t look at him when you took the dry, clean clothes he handed you, and hurried to change in the bathroom, before returning to the makeshift bed now established on the floor of Brian’s living room.

He brushed past you to use the bathroom himself.

You slid under the duvet laid out, and shifted the pillow beneath your head, making yourself comfortable.

Brian returned, and began extinguishing the candles around the room.

Finally, a soft shuffling sound announced that he had laid down beside you, and you released a breath of relief, knowing you could soon go to sleep and forget the awkwardness you were so adept at in your conscious state.

But then you noticed that Brian, in his flannel pyjama trousers and t-shirt, was going to sleep with only a single blanket pulled over him; he’d let you have the duvet without a word.

You weren’t about to let him freeze to death on his own living room floor.

With a courage you knew not from where, you rolled over to face Brian. Or rather, Brian’s back. He was turned away from you. He probably thought you’d already gone to sleep.

You laid your hand gently on his shoulder, and he turned slowly.

“Hey,” you murmured, as his eyes met yours. “Sleepover?” You offered the duvet, a gift of peaceable intentions.

He smiled softly, and accepted with grace. But it was a stretch, with how far he lay from you.

“Oh, come here,” you said, and draped your arm over his lithe waist, drawing him closer to you. A little wine-tipsy and a little tired, a little cold, a little lonely, you nestled your cheek against his chest, your hands against warm skin beneath thin fabric.

Slowly, his arms wrapped around you too, and you breathed a soft sigh against his skin.

“Is this alright?” he asked carefully.

In silent response, you lifted your head, and kissed his pretty lips.

He reciprocated almost immediately, his kiss sleepy but tender, and you pecked his mouth gently once more. Then you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, and touched the skin there with another caress of your lips.

“Tomorrow,” you whispered, and he ghosted a kiss upon your temple.

“I can wait for tomorrow,” he said.

And soon you both drifted off, you in warmth and contentment, and Brian dreaming of you.

#s&t celebrate #tina's writing #brian may x reader #fic

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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 4 years ago

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sleepwalking

summary: could you do a reddie x daughter where all the losers watch a horror movie and she convinces them she won’t get scared but she’s obv scared so they tease her abt it the whole night but then when they go to bed she starts sleep walking and richie get terrified and screams running upstairs and he has to literally pay eddie not to tell the other losers

The kernels crunch under footsteps, left over from their night in with the losers and his family, and Richie just about dies. Richie is not often spooked, can’t afforded to be after what Pennywise did to them as kids and how fast they had to react to survive the encounters, scared shitless or not, although he got plenty of practices getting over initial frights when their daughter was just three months old and awoke them out of a deep sleep every night with her piercing cries.

Tonight though, he finished watching three horror films, and he’s downstairs in the pitch-black with his daughter and Eddie both already retreated upstairs. He’s alone on the bottom floor, having decided He was going to write down a few jokes that occurred to him during the evening, like Bill trying to drink his sofa without taking the lid of, and his Rose pretending not to be scared by the movie, even if she had to cover her face with her hands every time the music picked up.

It’s not the first, nor will it be the last, time that he’s stayed behind while Eddie and Rose turn in. The night time seems to spark his creativity better than the day ever does, but it is the first time someone else comes creeping. He knows it’s not Eddie. When Eddie has to get up to get a drink during the night, he’ll do his best to stay quiet, but always falters on the second to last step that creeks loudly throughout the otherwise solemn house. He curses himself over it every time.

The second to last step didn’t produce any sound tonight, but still Richie can pick up on heavy breathing, just outside the kitchen he’s positioned in. Suddenly, the films he bravely -and foolishly- selected are having him imagine all sorts of creepy and ominous things.

His phone, perched to the side of him, lights up. So far, Richie has been listening, trying to distinguish what the sounds are without having to face the possible danger, but now he sees Eddie is calling him from upstairs, his heart sink and he switches into protection modus. He doesn’t stop to answer the phone, but walks towards their cabinet where they stash all the sharp objects - Rose may be 14 already, the habit sticks - and grips the largest one they have.

His hands are shaking, flashbacks of Pennywise are infiltrating his thoughts, but he bans them to the same dark corner they’re always supposed to reside in. He can’t think of that now, not while he needs to protect the ones he loves.

He gears up, preparing to lunch at whoever is waiting for him, but a sudden hand on his shoulder scares him.

He yelps, louder than he ever had, and rips away from the dark figure. The dark figure turns out to be Eddie, who looks about two seconds away from slaughtering Richie to death, despite the latter having no idea why. Richie’s chest heaves, and with his entire body shaking as the aftershocks of the fright leave him, he has momentarily forgotten the threat in the other room.

‘Eddie?’ He asks confused, blinking up at him.

‘No, the fucking demon that lives in this house asshole. Of course it’s me.’ A chuckle escapes Richie’s lips without his intent, but it dies down quickly and withers away after it’s met Eddie’s scornful gaze. ‘I told you to keep it down, rose is sleepwalking again. You know not to wake her.’ Suddenly, the noises in the other room make sense.

‘Fuck’, Richie curses, slapping a flat palm to his forehead in discontent. ‘I thought it was fucking burglar or something Eds.’

One of Eddie’s eyebrows twitch up, unimpressed. ‘So you dismiss the obvious that it’s either me or our daughter, but you jump straight to a burglary?’

‘Well... in that movie-‘

‘Oh for fuck sake Richie’, Eddie laughs. ‘the movie you insisted didn’t scare you and wouldn’t scare Rose?’

‘It didn’t scare me’, Richie defends, even though the trembles in his voice and his earlier rapid doom scenario thinking suggests otherwise. ‘It just had a lot of scenes that could happen in real life.’

Eddie clearly has more to say, more disgustingly covered up affectionate nicknames to throw around, but another voice, confused and hazy with sleep speak up from the other room.

‘Dad? Pops?’

Instantly, the petty argument between Richie and Eddie is forgotten, and they run in to check up on Rose. It isn’t the first time that she’s sleepwalked in the middle of the night, and it unfortunately won’t be the last, but there’s usually a reason as to why it happens. An overload of stress for example, or the overthinking of a mundane task that was, in hindsight, easily done. Richie’s a little unsure about what set this episode off, he doesn’t recall Rose mentioning anything out of the ordinary.

He’s face blazes and Ashley white when he begins to wonder whether or not a scary movie can set it off, and that he was the one who allowed her to watch it.

He stores the question as to why somewhere far in the back of his mind to revisit later, which he will do, extensively. Right now the most important thing is making sure Rose is alright.

In her daze she stumbled on over into the living room, sitting on the edge of the table glass with her eyes closed gently swaying back and forth. If Richie didn’t know any better, he’d think she was intentionally mimicking the film earlier in the evening. She’s still asleep, but her lips mumble words not loud enough to be tangible.

Eddie puts a single digit before his mouth, silencing Richie before the other has time to mutter something. People who sleepwalk need to be awoken gently, not by brute force or a simple wake up, because the changes environment might spook them. Richie is all about pranking his daughter, but he will never wake her up out of her daze for a quick laugh.

‘Rose’, Eddie whispers, starting to shake her slightly harsher than she’s already doing herself. Richie positions himself behind her, ready to catch in the case that she jumps and falls to the ground. Luckily for all of them, Rose isn’t deep in trance, she startles awake from the bare minimum Eddie was doing.

‘Dad, pops?’ She asks disorientated, rubbing away the sleep in her eyes. ‘Did I do it again?’

‘Yeah sweets,’ Richie says,’how are you feeling?’

‘Tired, the usual.’

‘You’re sure? You have to tell us if something else is wrong okay?’ The first time Rose sleepwalked, she ran into a cabinet and injured her ankle, and she kept it a secret from Richie and Eddie. When Eddie found out, he had been rightfully worried.

‘I promise dad’, Rose reassured him. Squeezing his hand. ‘I just want to go to bed. Wait, why are you two down here? Did I cause another ruckus?’

‘No honey, your pops-‘

‘Was just telling your dad about that fancy new car he was going to buy him.’ He tries to signal to Eddie as discrete as possible, but his frantic eyes are probably giving everything away. Still, he hopes Eddie has mercy on him, at least this once, because Rose will never let him live it down that he got scared by his own hand. God, Richie shudders, he can already picture the blackmail material she would have when she gets older and asks him something Eddie forbade her to do.

Eddie smirks, but he says nothing for now, most likely plotting how he can drag this out the longest to torture Richie.

‘Off to bed now, come on. I’m too old to skip my naps like this.’ Richie inches Rose forward by her shoulders, both to spur her on and to make sure she’s stable enough not to fall over. Richie doesn’t understand that much about sleepwalking, he’s not as smart or intuitive as Eddie is, but he is pretty sure it means she’s still half asleep while moving, and that always uphold a risk.

They make it up the stairs in one piece, low lighting and all, and Eddie parts from the father-daughter duo to go back to their bedroom and doze off for the night. Richie lingers, as he always does whenever he tucks Rose in. Every day, he praises himself lucky for the all opportunities he’s gotten after Derry, from Eddie and the losers to his job and Rose. He can’t believe it all happened to him, so he likes to take a moment to soak it all up.

‘Richie,’ Eddie beckons him over, because though he knows how much his husband cherishes his life, he also knows Rose is a child who is tired and needs her 8 hours of sleep at night.

‘Coming,’ Richie mumbles, pressing down one last kiss to Rose’s and making silly faces to ridicule Eddie in good fun. ‘You’re dad is so bossy’, he complains to Rose, who giggles but shakes her head loyally.

‘Careful, he might hear you and then you’ll be in big trouble pops.’

‘Do not mimic me in front of our daughter Richard. I’m warning you.’

‘I’m telling you he has a wire placed on me at all times’, Richie jokes, patting himself down to sell the joke home. ‘Anyway, Goodnight bug’

‘Goodnight. Oh, and Pops?’

‘Yeah?’

‘You don’t have to pretend not to be scared for my sake, I could see you cover you eyes during the scary parts.’ She turns on her side, facing away from her door and where Richie is standing, though the smirk on her face suggest she’s all too aware of she put Richie in his place. He can’t bring himself to be upset about it, she’s too much like Eddie for it to do anything but endear him.

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrack #eddie imagine #richie tozier imagine #adult Richie #richie x daughter #reddie x daughter #eddie x daughter

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nakedmossy · 5 years ago

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hiii, i saw that ur request are open soooo, i was thinking something with the reader an jj, something like they both have feeling for each other but they never say it out loud, and one day reader hears jj talking to jb about how he cant relly see any type of dating, sooOo she ignores him for a while and it ends kinda fluffly o smutty or smutty fluffy and shit if u dont mind ofc :)

DAMN. LOVE THIS REQUEST. HECK YEAH!! Tried to keep this under 2k words and just *could not* so please enjoy this 3k word vomit. Love you!

_________________________________________

“I’m living for the thrill, man. You know how I do. Dank nugs and the stickiest of ickies.”

You heard JJ over the sound of the music blaring from inside the Chateau as you jogged up the steps, swinging your backpack off and throwing it on the porch sofa before pushing through the screen door.

“Hey, Y/N” John B waved at you as you entered the kitchen.

You threw a peace sign up and said ‘hey’ as you pulled a chair out and put your feet up to rest on the seat beside you. You hadn’t sat down since 6am when your shift at the docks had started and your feet were killing you. Your yellow vans had dirt on the side so you leaned forward to wipe it off as JJ pulled his head out of the fridge.

“Ah, m’Lady. For you” He tossed a beer at you, you tipped it at him in a ‘cheers’ as you both cracked your cans at the same time. “And how is our fair dock maiden on this beautiful day” He smiled at you like he had smiled at you a million times before, but softer, and like he was seeing you in a new dress.

You smiled at him and chuckled, you could smell the pot lingering on his shirt from here and his goofy grin always gave you butterflies. The sun coming through the window illuminated his soft golden hair and made his bare chest look even more defined and chiselled.

“Good” You said after swallowing your mouthful of beer, closing your eyes and leaning back in your chair.

“Anyways, as I was saying, it’s going to be an absolute and solid banger, my dude.” JJ resumed his conversation with John B while lifting your feet off the chair beside you and sitting down, placing your legs on his lap. “We’re going to be running away from girls by the end of the night, I promise you.” He started drawling circles on your ankles and playing with your shoelace. Your heart was fluttering.

You perked up at his comment, opening your eyes and looking from him to John B curiously.

“What are you two conspiring now” You prodded, taking another drink of your beer.

“Kegger. Tonight. The Bone Yard. You coming?” JJ looked over at you and smiled, his eyes soft. You swore you felt him outline a heart on your skin.

“Wouldn’t miss it” You said half-heartedly. You knew what this would turn out to be – you would have fun at the beginning of the night, then would spend the rest of the night watching JJ pick up touron girls and fully embrace his lifestyle of being an adolescent womanizer. It was a pattern.

You pulled your legs off him and stood up to walk to the washroom. While you were washing your hands you heard the usual lull of conversation drop and their voices become quieter. Your stomach fluttered, you felt like they were trying to be quiet on purpose. You pressed your ear to the door and listened intently, hearing John B say something about eventually needing to stop running after anything with boobs and a mouth. JJ’s voice was still quiet but you clearly heard him say “that’s not me bro. I’m not settling down, as if there’s anything to settle down for here.”

You felt your face get hot and your stomach drop. There it was. The confirmation you had been dreading but fully expecting for months. You had felt a connection with JJ since you had started spending more time together last summer, and throughout the entire school year you had felt like you guys had been clicking. Of course you had been hopeful he felt the same way, you hadn’t pushed it or asked. But you also knew what kind of guy JJ was, as much as it pained you to admit it. Of course he would never settle for a girl like you.

You cleared your throat as you opened the door and flicked the light off. When you rounded the corner, the boys sat back in their chairs again and kept chirping off about the party later. You barely said anything, just walked past the table and out the door where you saw Kie pulling up in her car. You grabbed your backpack off the couch and practically ran down the steps. You heard JJ call your name from inside the house but didn’t turn around.

“Kie” You said with a dramatic exhale when she got out of her car, grinning brightly at you. “Save me”

“What’s the haps my little sunflower” She lifted her sunglasses off her face on top of her head and put her arm around your shoulder, about to guide you back inside. You planted your feet and mustered the best begging face you could.

“Please, for the love of all things holy, take me away from here. I can’t sit there and listen to JJ talk about all the ‘fine ass’ he plans to tap tonight. Kie smiled sheepishly and poked a finger into your stomach.

“Girl. You know he only does that to make you jealous.”

Kie had known about your crush on JJ for years, but had promised to not say or do anything under fear of death. You shook your head at her and looked at your feet.

“Nah, Kie... I heard him….I heard him talking to John B when I was in the bathroom.”

“And?”

“And he literally said there is nothing here for me to settle down for. What more proof do I need?”

Kie’s face fell and she tilted her head, watching you with sad eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that. Just come inside for a bit. We can get ready for the Kegger together.”

You bit your lip and shook your head, stepping around her. So she wasn’t going to save you then. Of course she just wanted to spend more time with John B, you had noticed how she had started looking at him since he had been threatened with being placed out into foster care.

“Forget it. I’ll see you later.”

“Y/N, wait! Come on!” She yelled, but you just waved your hand behind you and kept walking. You grabbed your bike from the edge of the drive and started down the road.

You heard JJ yell your name from the porch but kept going.

~~~

You arrived at the party an hour late and already drunk. You had pre-drank with one of the girls you worked the docks with, and had done little to get ready aside from taking your hair out of its braid and putting shimmer lotion over your darkly tanned skin. You had opted into wearing a skimpier outfit than you normally would have, but normally you wouldn’t be at a Kegger to pick someone up. Tonight was different. You had had a few hours to drink away your pain over JJ’s comment and come to terms with your new reality – the beer (and your co-worker who was 3 years older than you and known for working more than one job on the island if you catch the meaning) had convinced you it was a good idea to wear short shorts and a tube top (no bra which was weird for you), exposing so much skin your tan lines were visible. You tried as hard as you could to avoid JJ and John B and Kie for the first hour, but eventually Kie wandered over to you and stood with a hand on her hip, a very judgey expression on her face.

“You have a very judgey expression on your face” was all you said to her.

“So first you bail on me at John B’s and then you show up to the Kegger half cut and wearing a napkin as a top. JJ has been looking for you all night and said you kept walking away from him. What the fuck, Y/N?”

You grabbed a fresh beer from the too-young looking junior boy who was operating it and smiled hazily at him. When you looked back at Kie she was watching you like you had two heads.

“I just needed some space.” You said before taking a drink. Swallowing, you continued “it’s not every day you get your heart broken” you said blandly, then smacked your cup into hers and said “cheers” sarcastically before walking off.

~~~

Later in the night, after multiple beers and having seen JJ flirting with at least two different girls who were definitely not local, you stood over by the edge of the beach watching the waves pummel the shoreline rhythmically. That’s when you heard a boy say “you look lonely” from behind you. You spun around and smiled at the tall boy who had jet black hair and a Harvard sweater on. He had sparkling white teeth and dimples, even fairly drunk you could see how attractive and well-built he was.

“Alec” He smiled, stretching his hand out. You took it and loosely squeezed, shifting your weight to a different foot and losing your balance. “Easy there” he smiled, steadying you with his other hand.

“Y/N” You said in an embarrassingly slurred voice. You smiling knowingly and blushed. “Harvard?” You said tamely, pointing your cup hand at his sweater.

He nodded and flicked his hair, smiling. He started to say something but just past him you saw JJ standing next to a crowd, looking over at you. You felt your stomach plummet and your face get hot. He raised his hand to wave, but you stared back blankly. Perfect, this guy will do nicely. You thought and grabbed Alec’s face as he was mid-sentence, pressing your lips to his. He had frozen at first, but had quickly recuperated and started kissing you back, his hands moving to your back and butt. He was either more drunk then he looked, or he was a floozy. Probably the latter, being a Harvard kook.

You got lost in his mouth and his hands and his embrace for a few minutes until you heard someone clear their throat behind you.

“Y/N, time to go, bus is leaving.” The two of you broke apart and looked behind Alec to see JJ standing rather close, his arms crossed over his chest, unimpressed.

“Get lost, kid” Alec said to JJ, looking back at you and ducking his head to kiss you again.

“Seriously, Y/N. Come on.” JJ insisted. You both ignored him. “Alright, Kook. Kindly fuck off now.” JJ slammed his hands onto Alec’s shoulders and pulled him backwards off of you.

Alec spun around to shove JJ and JJ pushed his chest out, standing tall and matching Alec’s tall 6ft stature. They stood face to face, eyeing each other up and down.

“What’s your problem man?” Alec pushed JJ away from him with one hand.

“You’re mackin on my girl is my problem. Beat it!”

Alec looked from JJ back to you and rose his eyebrows before throwing his hands up and walking away muttering “control your girl then man, not my problem.”

“What the fuck, JJ!” You exclaimed, glaring at him. Your mind was still reeling, you hadn’t missed where he had said ‘mackin on my girl’.

“I told you, bus is leaving. You know the rules.”

“I’m not leaving with you.” You said with an ‘as if’ expression on your face. “I’m good. See ya”

You started to walk past him when you felt his arm reach out to block you. He looked over at you with a confused expression and moved to stand in front of you. Your eyebrows shot to 11’s as you stared at him.

“Seriously?” You said with an annoyed tone, trying to shove him out of the way.

“You’re drunk, Y/N. Let’s go.”

“I’m fine, like I said. And I’m not leaving with you, like I said.”

JJ looked equal parts confused and hurt now, but he stood his ground and held his arm out again when you tried to walk around him.

“What’s going on with you?” He said in a quieter tone now, trying to hold eye contact with you. You felt the sensation creeping back into your stomach that you felt so many times last summer and throughout the school year, the butterflies and the adrenaline. “Did you even know that guy?”

“No.” You stood firm and kept your head up. JJ looked at you expectantly and shook his head.

“Then what? What was that?”

“Oh, god JJ seriously? What!” You were raising your voice now. “I’m not allowed to have a little fun too? You’re such a fucking hypocrite.” You felt like you were sobering up slowly, but your words were still slurring lightly.

“What are you talking about?” JJ looked dumbfounded.

“Yeah, sure. Okay JJ. Whatever” You rolled your eyes and took a step back so you could breathe properly again, standing that close to him was suffocating. His eyes were wide and his face was genuinely confused. He opened his mouth to speak but raised his shoulders instead, pleadingly.

“Seriously? God…I heard you, okay? I heard you talking to John B. I heard you say that you weren’t the dating type, that there was nothing here for you to settle for anyways. I got it. Message received. So don’t act confused when I want to move on alright? That fucking hurt, man.”

Once you had finished your shoulders had slumped and you felt deflated. Oh, good lord. You hadn’t meant for the word vomit to come out that fast or at all really. Awesome, well done.

JJ looked taken back, then he looked concerned, then he settled on looking upset. He closed his eyes and ran his hand over his face, turning around for a second before turning back to you, putting his hands on his hips briefly.

“Y/N….” He started, taking a step towards you, but you stepped back and put your hands up.

“It’s fine. I just….forget it.” You said, then a wave of confidence hit you and you perked up, taking a step towards him. “It’s just…we had the best summer, you know? Like, the best summer. And this year was like…the best year I’ve had, ever. And now this. I don’t know, it just sucks.” You watched the shock wash over JJ’s face and felt suddenly guilty. “Forget it, its fine. I don’t know why I expected anything, I know I’m just…me” You looked down at your feet and suddenly felt very dizzy. You swayed on your feet and felt JJ’s hand reach out to steady you. He took a step closer and was directly in front of you now.

“Y/N, hey. Hey” He said until you looked up at him, startled by how close he suddenly was. His face was gentle but firm. He saw your face, probably looking slightly green, and walked you over to a log to sit down. He sat so close to you that your legs were firmly pressed together, he kept a hand on your arm and adjusted his seat to face you more directly.

“You never…said anything.” He said quietly, his eyes on you. “I thought you…ugh”

You looked over at him, embarrassed and fuzzy. Probably blushing. Fantastic. He looked at you with a smile now, newly happy about something.

“What” You poked, confused why he was suddenly in a good mood.

“I mean come on, Y/N. Look at you. You’re….way out of my league.” He was almost laughing.

“What” You said, now squinting to see him better, practically glaring.

“I always just…resigned myself to thinking you would end up with like…I don’t know a pogue Harvard sweater over there” He pointed to the direction Alec had walked off in. “I’m like…a dirty but moderately smart street rat.” He said mildly joking, but you could hear the insecurity undertone.

You felt your chest constricting and your heart pounding. Was he joking? He must be joking. You stared at each other for a few silent moments until you finally broke the tense silence.

“JJ you aren’t even moderately smart if you didn’t notice. I wasn’t that discreet.” You said quietly, looking at your lap again.

You opened your mouth to say that it was fine and you understood but as soon as you started to talk you felt JJ move towards you and lift his hand to your face and then suddenly he was pulling you towards him, kissing you firmly. Your brain and your heart and your chest and your stomach exploded with fire and adrenaline and you could feel your limbs numbing. You had wanted to kiss JJ for so long but now it was happening and you were so drunk and you had made such a fool of yourself and you didn’t know what to do so you kissed him back and tried to enjoy the feeling of his lips on yours. After a few seconds he pulled away and looked at you, then smiled and broke into a grin so big his dimples were practically squishing into his eyes.

You felt so warm and so happy that you melted towards JJ again and kissed him until your lips were sore and the music had died down and you heard someone clearing their throat.

“Bus is actually leaving” Kie smiled at you when you looked over JJ’s shoulder. She winked and walked backwards towards where Pope and John B were gathered, finishing their drinks and whistling.

“No pogue on pogue macking!” Pope shouted over at you, laughing as John B whistled and threw his empty cup towards you, hitting JJ in the arm. JJ waved them off and pulled you into his chest, laughing as the crew started littering a collection of empty cups at the two of you and yipping and hollering. You nuzzled into JJ’s chest, not quite ready for the moment to be over yet, and smiled. Finally.

#jj x reader #jj maybank #requests open #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #nakedmossywrites

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authenticcadence18 · 4 years ago

Text

Can’t Help Falling in Love Ch. 5

THE CHAPTER IS BACK UP, WOO!!!!! (it accidentally got deleted...but I’m finally fixing it, yay!!) Pls enjoy!!

Warning: the next line contains a minor trigger warning which contains a minor spoiler.

(minor trigger warning for an injury in this chapter. It’s nothing serious...and mostly just in there as an excuse for some fluff...but I wanted to let y’all know just in case!)

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

AO3

...

Darling, so it goes…

Some things are meant to be…

...

“Alright! Before I let you and your partners discuss your projects for the last fifteen minutes of class, who can tell me something about dominant chords?”

Since the beginning of March, Ms. Chase had made a habit of asking her students one review question a day as a “pre-pre exam review.”

Unfortunately, the blank stares she got in response to today’s question seemed to indicate no one had a response.

Ms. Chase allowed the silence to linger for a few seconds, giving her students the opportunity to think critically about her question before determining she needed to move on. “Alright, I’ll review them again!” she said warmly. “There’s no point in waiting an eternity for someone to answer a question if no one knows the answer or wants to answer...we would just be wasting time.

“Dominant chords are built on the fifth note in a scale, and they create instability! Whenever you hear a dominant chord in a song, you instinctively wait for it to resolve. It sounds like it’s holding its breath! And, that resolution, or the exhale of relief, is typically found in a tonic chord!! Remember, the tonic chord is built on the first note of a scale, so when you go back to it, it’s like you’re going back home.”

Perhaps now that she’d reviewed the concept, the class would be able to answer a question!

“Can anyone think of a song that ends with a dominant chord resolving to the tonic?”

A student raised his hand.

“Yes, Django?”

Django’s answer was hesitant. “...‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’?”

“Excellent!!!” Ms. Chase replied with a grin. She wrote out the lyrics to the first verse of the tune on the whiteboard and gestured to them to elaborate on the lesson. “Imagine the words ‘what you’ being held out for an extended period of time instead of immediately being followed by the word ‘are’ and the final tonic chord....hear the unresolved dominant chord in your head…..FEEL the mounting tension that is DESPERATE to finally be resolved…...can you hear it? Can you FEEL the aching, burning desperation for resolution???”

A few particularly musically-inclined students—Isabella and Phineas included—nodded their heads enthusiastically. The majority of the class, however, seemed primarily caught off-guard by their teacher’s passion for chords (especially while discussing a children’s nursery rhyme).

Ms. Chase chuckled at their reactions (and her heart sang at the few students who DID seem to grasp the inherent beauty of dominant and tonic chords.)

“Look, I know this might seem boring and irrelevant now, but you’ll need this information to understand a simile in a couple of chapters!!”

“....don’t you mean to understand our exam review in a couple of weeks?”

“Yup! That’s what I said!!”

...

“Alright, by class time tomorrow, you and your partner need to decide whether your final project will be live, recorded, or elsewise! No matter what you decide to do, you will have to turn in your project along with your essays next Monday, exactly a week from today. You can turn in a scratch recording if you intend to do a live performance. And, just a reminder, presentations will start next week on Tuesday. Alright, you have the rest of class to discuss with your partners! Go!!!!”

Isabella and Phineas nodded at their teacher before facing one-another. Isabella opened her notebook and thumbed to a blank page, scribbling the words “Presentation Ideas” on the top.

“I’m sure glad we already got the essay out of the way!!” Phineas exclaimed as she wrote. “It was a great idea to do that first, Isabella.”

Isabella smiled sweetly (and maybe she blushed a little, but who could blame her?) and replied, “AND, just like you said, we have a better grasp on the song’s themes and structure now! That’ll make the presentation easier.”

“Easier,” of course, was a relative term for their situation. Understanding the themes and structure of their assigned song didn’t change what the lyrics meant to them personally.

Isabella and Phineas quite literally couldn’t help being in love with one another.

No amount of analysis could top that for inspiration.

“OK!!” Isabella shook her head to clear it of thoughts about her feelings for Phineas and the inherent irony in their song assignment. “Ideas for our presentation!! What do you want to do? Make a poster? Sing live? Record a video?”

(One would think two individuals as motivated and driven as Phineas and Isabella would have come to a decision about this by now. But they’d both been putting this conversation off for as long as they could.)

“Well….” Phineas rubbed the back of his neck and tried to hide the faint blush warming his face. “...I think it would be fun to sing together again. I mean, live. For the class. We haven’t done that—you know, sung together—in years.”

Deep down, Phineas knew singing with Isabella was perhaps not the best idea. Singing “Can’t Help Falling in Love” for their presentation—as opposed to making a poster or something about it—would almost CERTAINLY result in sly looks from the rest of their classmates as they performed...not to mention be difficult on Phineas himself.

But he loved singing with Isabella.

Some of his fondest memories from when they were kids involved musical numbers—be they spontaneous or rehearsed—in which they shared a melody.

Phineas also figured it would be less risky to sing live than make a video. If he and Isabella chose the latter option for their presentation, they would likely have to spend time editing footage together after recording...and Isabella could catch him gazing fondly at her in one of the videos...and his secret would be out. It would be better to just record the audio of their song once or twice for Ms. Chase and then sing it in front of the class.

And...there was one final reason Phineas wanted to sing “Can’t Help Falling in Love” with Isabella.

Doing so would be the safest way to say “I love you ” to her.

He didn’t expect her to return his feelings or even UNDERSTAND just how deeply the lyrics resonated in his heart while they sang together, of course.

But he wanted to tell her he loved her. Even if it was just through the lyrics of a half-a-century-old song. Even if it didn’t mean anything to her.

It would mean something to him.

Isabella smiled fondly as memories of singing with Phineas washed over her. “You know what? I think you’re right. That WOULD be fun. We should sing together. ...you know, live!”

(She also didn’t trust herself to film a video without making heart eyes at Phineas and potentially give her feelings away. Maybe he wouldn’t notice but...it was better to be safe than sorry.)

A bright smile unfolded over Phineas’s face, and Isabella giggled.

“It’s settled then!!” he exclaimed excitedly. “We’ll decide on some instruments to play and come up with an arrangement for the song, and then….” He gazed at her lovingly and took her hand in his. “All we’ll have to do is…run away together!!!”

Isabella beamed at him.

And then she blinked. And frowned.

Because what had Phineas said, exactly?

…and why did it feel uncomfortably familiar?

A bit of closer inspection revealed that Phineas wasn’t actually holding her hand. Or gazing at her lovingly.

...this didn’t bode well.

Isabella took a deep breath. “......can you repeat that?” she asked hesitantly. “I think I zoned out for a second there.”

“Sure!” Phineas replied cheerfully. “I said, we’ll decide on some instruments to play and come up with an arrangement for the song, and then all we’ll have to do is record it for Ms. Chase and sing for the class!”

Isabella offered Phineas a thumbs up and a strained smile for the clarification.

On the inside, however...she was not smiling at all.

When Isabella was younger, she’d had a bad habit of occasionally falling into romantic daydreams about Phineas when he spoke to her and missing whatever he’d actually said. The rest of the Fireside Girls had lovingly dubbed this phenomenon “going to Phineasland.”

Isabella hadn’t been to Phineasland in years. Even now, though her feelings for Phineas were stronger than ever, she figured she’d outgrown it.

...except she apparently HADN’T outgrown it.

And she was going to scream.

Because if such daydreams became more frequent, Isabella had no idea how she’d be able to perform a love song with Phineas!! How was she supposed to discern between fantasy and reality while singing a romantic duet with him if she apparently couldn't even do it in regular conversation now??

...Isabella was just going to have to focus extra carefully whenever they interacted from now on. And take anything Phineas said (or sang) that could be interpreted as more than friendly with a grain of salt.

Several grains of salt.

“So. Do you want to get started on the song after school today?” Phineas asked.

“Sure!!” Isabella agreed quickly, eager to put thoughts of Phineasland out of her head and focus on literally anything else. “I have soccer practice till 4:30, though. Do you have any meetings today? If not, I can come over to your house once I’m finished.”

“I don’t have any meetings today, but don’t mind hanging out here until you’re done!” Phineas replied. “Maybe I can sit outside on the bleachers while you and the team practice!! That way, you won’t have to walk home by yourself afterward.”

Isabella grinned, already looking forward to strolling home with Phineas (and maybe accidentally brushing her hand against his a few times as they walked).

(She could totally do that without going to Phineasland. Totally. 100%.)

“That sounds great!”

...

Phineas smiled as a light breeze ruffled his hair.

It was a beautiful afternoon to sit outside and watch one’s crush play soccer.

It had been awhile since Phineas witnessed the soccer team in action. Their season ended back in autumn, and all their spring practices were primarily held to keep the team moving and prepare the underclassmen for next year’s season.

(Phineas hadn’t missed a game, of course. He loved supporting Isabella in any way he could...and watching her play soccer and lead the team was pretty awesome.)

His gaze gradually drifted away from the soccer field and down to the notebook in his lap. He added a bit of shading to the design for an invention he’d been ruminating on for awhile: a generator that could create any image in fireworks. Such an invention could be used for quite a few things, but Phineas had a particular idea in mind for it….

On the opposite page, he sketched out a horizon and penciled the phrase “Gitchee Gitchee Goo!” into the sky. A lopsided grin unfolded over his face as he absently doodled small hearts and sparks around the lyric.

...now that song was stuck in his head. He hummed a bit of the refrain.

Gitchee gitchee goo means that I love you!

Phineas smiled fondly at the familiar melody, one he and Isabella both knew very well. He wasn’t planning on confessing to her anytime soon...but it was still fun to daydream up different ways he could do so.

(Well. It was fun to daydream up different ways he could do so in a hypothetical scenario where confessing couldn’t result in their friendship being ruined forever. But that went without being said.)

“Hey, Phineas! Whatcha drawin’?”

Phineas’s pulse skyrocketed, and he nearly fell off the bleachers.

He’d been so wrapped up in his daydream, he didn’t realize Isabella was sitting next to him now.

And it was too late to shut the notebook. She’d already seen it.

...this didn’t bode well.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you!” Isabella said with an apologetic smile. “We’re taking a short break, so I wanted to see what you were up to.” She moved a bit closer to Phineas so she could admire his handiwork better. “Oooooh, that looks neat!! Is that a generator that makes custom fireworks?”

Phineas managed to nod, hoping his face didn’t look as red as it felt.

Isabella smiled as she read the familiar lyric scrawled in the paper sky. “Are you planning to use this to promote some sort of Phineas and the Ferbtones comeback concert?”

Some of the tension left Phineas’s shoulders.

Isabella had provided a perfect explanation for the fireworks he’d drawn!!

“YUP!!!” he replied quickly. “I’d use it to promote a comeback concert!! Or, well, a comeback-comeback concert, I guess. But probably not anytime soon. I’m in no rush to revisit being a one-hit wonder...there’s too much other stuff going on right now. But I bet it could be fun to do someday!”

“Well, whenever you schedule that concert, let me know! Being a Ferbette was tons of fun.” Isabella smiled and quietly sang a bit of the aforementioned one-hit wonder to herself. “Gitchee gitchee goo means that I love you!”

Phineas let out an inaudible sigh of relief (and tried to ignore the way his heart leapt to hear Isabella sing the words ‘ I love you ’ in his general vicinity).

THAT had been a close one.

“Isabella, Isabella!!!”

A younger soccer player—perhaps a sophomore—ran over to the bleachers, an excited smile plastered to her face and blond hair flying behind her.

“What’s up, Mel?” Isabella asked. “We’ve still got a few minutes before we start the next drill. Is everything okay?”

“Is this—" Mel paused to catch her breath (running across the soccer field in one go was no easy feat!) before starting again. “Is this who I think it is??” She gestured to Phineas excitedly.

Isabella smiled proudly. “It sure is!!

“Phineas, meet Mel, soccer-extraodrinare! And Mel, meet Phineas!!! He and I are working on a project for a class together, so he’s hanging out here until the end of practice.”

“It’s nice to meet you!” Phineas said kindly, extending a hand towards Mel. “I’ve seen you play before: you’ve got great form!!”

Mel, in response, squealed elatedly.

Which kind of freaked Phineas out.

Isabella couldn’t help but laugh at his confused expression. “Your reputation precedes you,” she explained with a grin.

“You built a Football X7 stadium in your backyard when you were just a kid!!!!” Mel elaborated. “Isabella told us all about it last semester!!!”

“Well, TECHNICALLY, my brother, Isabella, and the rest of our friends also built the stadium,” Phineas replied with a smile. “It was a team effort!”

Football X7 was once a purely hypothetical concept. In the 1950s, a man named Professor Ross Eforp developed plans for a fully-enclosed football—or soccer, for any Americans reading—stadium in which players could run on walls and shoot goals from virtually anywhere! Unfortunately, he was never able to bring his dream into reality, and it was deemed impossible.

Fortunately, for Phineas, Ferb, and the rest of their friends, the only thing that was impossible was impossibility! They built the world’s first fully-functioning Football X7 stadium to play a match with Ferb’s cousins one summer day and gave it away to a popular football team once they were finished with it.

Mel grinned before taking a deep breath and shyly asking, “...have you ever thought about building another stadium sometime? Playing soccer on this field is great and all, but I’ve always wondered what it would be like to play Football X7. Isabella told us it was tons of fun!”

Phineas rubbed his chin thoughtfully. It had only taken a few hours to build the stadium when he and Isabella were kids, but they’d had the help of Ferb and the rest of their friends then (and no other responsibilities to tend to, since it had been the middle of summer). “Well, I don’t see why not!” he said. “That would be really cool! But, we might need some extra hands to build it quickly.”

Isabella’s eyes lit up. “Why not recruit the robotics club to help?” she suggested excitedly. “We could all work together to build it!! With so many people lending a hand, it wouldn’t take long at all!”

“That’s a great idea!!!!” Phineas replied with a grin. “Ferb and I have been trying to think of something we could build with the robotics club for the betterment of the school, and a Football X7 stadium would be perfect!! How about I bring it up at our meeting tomorrow afternoon, make sure everyone is on board and that it’s okay with the school administrators, and then we can decide where and when to build?”

“That sounds great!!!” Isabella said.

“And, once it’s built, we can play a match together, for old time’s sake,” Phineas added.

Isabella smirked, a competitive glint emerging in her eyes. “The robotics team against the soccer team? You’re on!!!”

Mel squealed excitedly before taking off across the field, loudly exclaiming the recent development to the rest of the team. A ripple of cheers spread amongst the players as the amazing news—Phineas Flynn was going to help build them a Football X7 stadium!!—sank in.

Their shouts of joy nearly brought tears to Isabella’s eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen them so happy….” she whispered.

Isabella cared deeply for the members of the soccer team. Throughout high school, in all its ups and downs, they’d always been there for her—and she’d made it a top priority to look out for the younger players (both to pay it forward to the upperclassmen who’d looked out for her when she was just a freshman and because she loved helping others, period).

To have the opportunity to give back to them like this, to see them so excited...it was amazing.

...and it wouldn’t have been possible without the brilliant, kind-hearted boy beside her.

Isabella turned to Phineas with a warm smile, gratitude momentarily overriding any qualms at expressing affection towards him, and brushed a quick kiss against his cheek.

“Thank you, Phineas.”

And then she stood from the bleachers and started jogging across the field and towards the rest of the team—both to join their celebration and finish up their practice.

Isabella didn’t fully register that she’d kissed Phineas on the cheek until she was about midway across the field. This realization made her stumble, doubts and possible ramifications of the spontaneous gesture suddenly spinning about her skull.

Had that been too much? Had she given her feelings away??

A small, slightly-jaded voice in Isabella’s head whispered, “Please, Isabella. Phineas is perhaps the most oblivious person on this planet—nay, in this GALAXY. He wouldn’t be able to figure out you have feelings for him just by you giving him a thank-you kiss on the cheek. He probably thinks it was a friendly gesture.”

The small, slightly-jaded voice was right. Sort of.

Phineas couldn’t move.

Had that really just happened? Had that been real??

The pinprick of warmth, the signature of Isabella’s kiss, still glowing faintly on his cheek seemed to indicate it had, indeed, been real.

He told himself she’d just been expressing her gratitude. That kiss did not mean—COULD NOT HAVE MEANT—anything more than “thank you.” After all, friends could kiss each other on the cheek, couldn’t they? They did that in other countries, right? Like, in France? That had to be what Isabella had intended by kissing him.

But this perfectly logical explanation couldn’t stop Phineas’s heart from racing in a perfectly illogical way. Or his face from flushing in an equally illogical way.

Because Isabella had kissed him.

Even if it had been a friendly kiss.

She’d kissed him.

A dreamy smile unfurled across Phineas’s face.

Today was a good day.

...

The walk home was relatively uneventful.

Isabella didn’t dare “accidentally” brush her hand against Phineas’s now, not after the stunt she’d pulled during soccer. Attempted hand-holding probably would have been pushing it...even for someone as oblivious as Phineas.

And Phineas didn’t dare bring up Isabella’s kiss. But he thought about it. He couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The duo simply walked home, chatting about school and their project and ideas for the Football X7 stadium.

When they arrived at the Flynn-Fletcher household, they settled in the living room to develop a game plan for their song.

“Alright, Isabella,” Phineas began as they sat on the ground. “Are there any particular instruments you want to play when we sing?”

“I’m just not sure…” Isabella replied, pursing her lips in thought. “I’ve been thinking about it, but I can play tons of instruments! I’m not sure how to choose just one.”

“Same here!!” Phineas agreed. “There’s so many great options to choose from! Only playing a couple of guitars or something for our performance would be boring.”

“Wait…..” Isabella’s eyes lit up with inspiration for the second time that day. “....what if we didn’t HAVE to choose? Didn’t Candace used to use the spare room upstairs as a music room??”

“Yeah, but what does that have to do with….WAIT A MINUTE.”

“We can turn it into a recording studio!!!!” Isabella exclaimed excitedly. “And record our own accompaniment track with as many instruments as we want!!!!”

“Isabella, you’re a genius!!!!!!!” Phineas declared brightly.

“I know I am!” Isabella replied with a playful shrug. She opened her laptop and pulled up a music notation website. “Shall we get started on an arrangement then?”

“Yes, yes we shall!!”

...

The next few days passed by in a flurry of productivity. Isabella and Phineas divided their time between their own individual commitments, working on plans for and leading the construction of Danville High’s new Football X7 stadium, and working on arranging and recording the instrumental track for their project. Now, it was Friday, and they were headed to school to unveil the newly-completed Football X7 stadium and play the ultimate game of football—er, soccer. Ferb walked beside them, listening amusedly as they argued over who would emerge the victor in the evening’s match.

“My team’s totally going to win,” Isabella gloated. “We’re literally the SOCCER team. How could we lose a soccer match?”

“You forget, our team developed the blueprints for the stadium!!” Phineas replied matter-of-factly. “We have the technical know-how. AND, we have Ferb!!”

The two brothers exchanged a fist bump.

Isabella rolled her eyes with a grin. “Yeah, yeah, talk all you want. You’re so gonna lose.”

“No, YOU’RE gonna lose.”

“YOU ARE.”

“NO YOU.”

“I’M going to lose my appetite if you two keep flirting with each other,” Ferb chimed in.

Phineas and Isabella exchanged flabbergasted glances before shooting identical glares at him.

“FERB!!!”

“We are NOT flirting!!”

“Right!! We’re not!!!”

“That was just...friendly trash-talk!!!!”

“Yeah!!!!!!”

Ferb rolled his eyes with a smirk. “Whatever you say!” he conceded.

Phineas and Isabella eyed each other before frantically looking in opposite directions, both trying to hide their burning faces.

…..they hadn’t actually been flirting, right? Ferb was just messing with them...right??

The direction Phineas chose to look happened to line up with where Ferb stood. “....why do you hate me?” he mouthed, a steely look in his eyes.

Ferb just shrugged cheekily, pretending he didn’t understand his brother’s retort.

Someday, Phineas and Isabella would understand he did these things because he loved them.

(And because they loved each other but were really bad at figuring it out.)

...

After a rousing opening ceremony, the Football X7 match between the soccer and robotics teams was underway!!!!

(There wasn’t much room for seating within the stadium itself—the only non-athletic space inside was a small observation deck suspended in its middle—so any onlookers were allowed to sit and watch the match on a screen set up outside.)

So far, Isabella’s prediction had proven true: the soccer team had a few points on the robotics team! She grinned from her position guarding her team’s goal, eyeing the trajectory of the ball as the players kicked it around the stadium. She had a great view of the action from here, since the goals were elevated!!

Though Isabella didn’t think he’d played in years, Phineas was still pretty good at soccer. He kept up with the rest of the players easily and even managed to move the ball a few times!

(She was a better player than him, of course. That went without being said. But he was still pretty good.)

Isabella moved from foot to foot impatiently: she wanted the first period of the game to end. Playing goalie was definitely fun, but she was ready to run along the ceiling!! Kick the ball!! Really get her legs moving!!! Run next to Phineas and maybe trash-talk him some more!!!

And then, towards the bottom of the stadium, an enthusiastic member of the robotics team kicked the ball a bit too hard...and it crashed directly into Phineas’s head.

Phineas crumbled to the ground.

And Isabella didn’t need to wait for the next period to start running anymore.

“PHINEAS!!!!” Isabella leapt off the goal, sprinted down the nearest wall, and frantically ran to where Phineas lay before kneeling next to him on the ground. “Phineas, are you okay?? Can you hear me??”

Phineas groaned, but he didn’t open his eyes.

Ferb crouched opposite Isabella at his brother’s side. “He got hit pretty hard….” he voiced quietly, an unfamiliar edge of worry in his tone.

“Oh no!!! I’m so sorry!!!!!” The aforementioned enthusiastic player took a hesitant step towards the three of them before burying his head in his hands. “It was an accident!!!”

“It’s okay, these things happen,” Isabella replied, though she wasn’t really paying attention to him.

She looked up at Ferb and said, “When I was younger, I earned a Concussion First Aid patch. Hopefully Phineas doesn’t have one...but, if he does, I can help.”

She took a shaky breath and tried to stay calm.

Phineas was going to be okay. He had to be.

She’d make sure of it.

...

Phineas blinked slowly as reality gradually returned to him. The world was a blur, and a dull pain throbbed in the back of his skull. He could only make out the green haze of the Football X7 stadium all around him, and the green haze of Ferb’s hair to his right….and Isabella. She hovered right above him. She was smiling at him.

Gosh, she was beautiful.

Isabella couldn’t hide the relieved grin that unfolded over her face as Phineas opened his eyes. “Is your head okay, Phineas?” she asked gently. “You got hit with the ball. Do you remember that?”

“I...think I remember…” Phineas managed to say. “And...my head’s fine...”

Sure, his head hurt, but he was alright. He’d never been better, actually, because Isabella was right here, gazing at him kindly and looking as pretty as ever. He smiled softly before reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear.

“I’m still seeing stars, though.”

Isabella’s breath caught, and her face—already slightly pink from playing soccer for the past half hour—flushed crimson.

...had Phineas just tenderly brushed the hair from her face and said he was seeing stars while looking at her?

…..or was this another daydream?

……..it was probably a daydream.

“Now is NOT the time to go to Phineasland!!!” Isabella told herself sternly. “Phineas might need your help!!!”

She needed to be completely focused right now. Not lost in an ill-timed fantasy!!!

“Ok, I’m going to take him up to the observation deck to make sure everything’s alright!!!” Isabella announced loudly. She looked at Ferb. “I’ll take care of Phineas, you hold down the fort here.”

…why was Ferb smirking at her?

…..he could probably tell she’d been in Phineasland.

This was so embarrassing.

“Alright, Phineas! Ready to go?”

“...I think so.”

Isabella slowly helped Phineas to his feet and, together, they walked towards the elevator that led to the observation deck. She’d be able to assess any damage more thoroughly up there—and give herself time to refocus on the way up.

(She couldn’t BELIEVE she was daydreaming about Phineas at a time like this, when she needed to be level-headed for his sake. It was absurd. It was MORTIFYING.)

Phineas didn’t say anything: his head was still a little fuzzy. But he was more than glad to follow Isabella wherever she went. He’d follow her anywhere.

The remaining students exchanged apprehensive glances as Isabella and Phineas disappeared into the elevator.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” someone asked.

“He’ll be fine,” Ferb assured them with a smile. “He’s in good hands. We can keep playing for now and check on him later.”

Another student chuckled behind her hands. “So like….are they dating or something?” she asked.

Phineas’s “seeing stars” comment—and Isabella’s reaction to it—had been hard to miss.

“Unfortunately, they are not,” Ferb replied. “But who knows? That could change soon.”

...

Phineas regained his bearings on the way up to the observation deck. He’d been a little out of it when he first woke up, but the fog in his head was finally clearing.

And here, beside Isabella in the elevator, he was having a bit of a crisis as he remembered the events of a minute ago.

“ .....did I tenderly brush the hair from Isabella’s face and say I was seeing stars while looking at her??

“….oh my gosh. I tenderly brushed the hair from Isabella’s face and said I was seeing stars while looking at her.

“. ...this is so embarrassing. ”

Maybe Isabella understood he’d been out of it. Maybe she wouldn’t ask him to explain why he’d done what he had.

…..maybe Phineas should stop thinking about this before she noticed he was blushing.

“Alright, here we are!” Isabella announced as the elevator stopped. She took Phineas’s hand (and Phineas blushed even harder) and guided him to sit in a chair near the wrap-around window overlooking the stadium. “How does your head feel now?”

“Not as bad as it did when I first woke up, I guess…” Phineas replied. “But it still hurts a little.”

“Are you nauseous?” Isabella asked.

“No.”

“Dizzy? Fatigued?”

“Not really, no.”

“Do you remember what happened right before and after you got hit?”

It took Phineas a second to think of a suitable response to that question.

“.....yes? I was running before I got hit and fell down, and then...I opened my eyes and talked to you.”

Isabella nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer. “Okay, you probably don’t have a concussion. But if you start feeling weird tomorrow or the next day, you should probably see a doctor. Just in case.” She examined the back of his head. “You’re definitely going to have a gnarly bruise back here. Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” Phineas replied. “That’s a part of the game, you know?”

“Yeah, it is….” Isabella agreed, finally taking a seat beside him. “I’ve been knocked in the head with a soccer ball at LEAST three times. It builds character.” She chuckled before tilting her head at Phineas with a gentle smile and quietly voicing, “...I’m really glad you’re okay…”

“How could I not be okay?” Phineas said. He grinned. “I’ve got you to take care of me!”

Isabella rubbed the back of her neck with a shy smile. “I’m just doing my former Fireside Girl thing, that’s all!”

“...so, now that you know I’m alright, are you gonna go back down there?” Phineas asked. “I think I’m done with Football X7 for today, but you can still play!”

(He didn’t WANT Isabella to leave, of course. But he didn’t want to keep her from playing, either.)

Isabella didn’t need time to consider her answer. “Nah, I’d rather stay here with you. I can’t leave you up here all by yourself! And we’ve got a great view of the match...so we’ll both be able to see it when the soccer team wins!!”

“You mean when the ROBOTICS team wins,” Phineas stated matter-of-factly.

They held tense eye contact for a moment before bursting into laughter.

It felt so good to laugh together.

Isabella’s smile faded a bit as she looked out over the stadium. “....we should have built this for Danville High years ago….” she mused, a hint of melancholy coloring her voice. “Maybe if we’d hung out more when we first started high school…if I hadn’t been so busy...” She winced, unsure if she should be hinting at this to Phineas at all.

After all, SHE was the reason they’d drifted apart in the first place. It was her fault they hadn’t thought to build something together for their peers until a month before their graduation...her fault they’d missed out on years of spending time together.

“Hey.” Phineas placed a hand on Isabella’s shoulder and squeezed it gently, unwilling to let her stay sad. “The important thing is that it’s built now, no matter how long it took.

“And, we’re hanging out again!” He smiled softly at her. “...we’re going to keep hanging out from now on, right?”

“Definitely!” Isabella agreed with a grin.

Phineas always knew just what to say to cheer her up.

...

Isabella and Phineas watched the rest of the match unfold from their seats. The soccer team remained in the lead for the rest of the game, much to Isabella’s delight (and Phineas’s chagrin). At last, the game ended, and Isabella shot up from her chair with a shriek of joy.

“WE WON!!!!!!!!! I told you we’d win and WE DID!!!!! WOOOOO!!!!!!!! Who was right??? ME!!”

She plopped back into the chair with a contented sigh.

Phineas frowned and pouted.

“....ok, you know what, you don’t have to rub it in.”

They were so busy reacting to the outcome of the match, they didn’t hear a third party enter the observation deck.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

Ferb exited the elevator and strode over to where they sat.

And Phineas and Isabella blushed and pretended they hadn’t heard what he said.

“Nice playing out there, Ferb!!” Phineas exclaimed. (He was eager to change the subject). “Even though we lost. You looked great!”

“Thanks! How’s his head, Isabella?” Ferb asked.

“It looks alright!!” Isabella replied with a smile. “I think he’s just going to have a bad bruise.”

Ferb patted his brother on the shoulder. “I think he’ll survive that. Nothing can keep this guy down.”

Phineas grinned. “How’s the stadium holding up down there?”

“It’s holding up well!” Ferb replied. “I did think of ONE modification we could add, though.”

“You did? What is it?”

“A skylight.”

Isabella and Phineas both cocked their heads at Ferb, momentarily confused.

“...not that that’s a bad idea, but why do you want to add a skylight?” Phineas voiced. “Wouldn’t that get in the way of the players’ mobility?”

“Perhaps, but it would make the stadium feel less enclosed, let the players see the sun and clouds during the day and the stars at night.” Ferb explained. He rubbed his chin pensively. “Although…

“I suppose you didn’t need a skylight to see stars earlier....right, Phineas?”

Isabella’s heart practically leapt out of her chest.

“. ...did he just say Phineas didn’t need a skylight to see stars earlier? But...if Ferb said that...then that means….Phineas actually tenderly brushed the hair from my face and said he was seeing stars while looking at me?? That was real????”

Phineas didn’t condone acts of violence.

…..but at this point Ferb was ASKING to be pushed. Or shoved. Or pummeled with an entire arms’ worth of pillows.

“FERB!!!! I was out of it when I said that, okay???” Phineas exclaimed, trying to save face as best he could (and failing, because his face was beet red). “I didn’t know what I was saying!!!”

“....Phineas actually tenderly brushed the hair from my face and said he was seeing stars while looking at me. That was real. Oh my gosh. Ohhhh my gosh. Ohhhhh mY GOSH.”

Phineas dared a glance at Isabella and winced because she was staring at him with wide eyes.

Perhaps she’d forgotten about the “seeing stars” incident until Ferb reminded her of it, and now she was remembering just how weird it had been. She was probably embarrassed. PHINEAS was certainly embarrassed.

…..for the second time that day, he wondered why Ferb hated him.

“Isabella...I’m sorry….” Phineas rubbed the back of his neck, desperate to move past this awkward hurdle and pretend it hadn’t happened at all. “I honestly don’t know what came over me down there, my head was so fuzzy after I got hit. Whatever I said, I didn’t mean it.”

Waaaaait that didn’t sound right.

“I MEAN. Not that you aren’t as beautiful as the stars! Which is what I meant! You are!! I meant that!! That’s true!!! But—I just—"

He was making it worse.

He needed to stop.

“......maybe I hit my head harder than I thought.”

At this point, Ferb deduced the situation had escalated too far for Phineas to handle it alone. It was time for some damage control.

“Alright, Phineas. I think we should head home. You should probably get some sleep.” He nudged Phineas out of his chair. “Isabella, are you walking with us?”

Isabella nodded numbly as she stood. She didn’t trust herself to speak at the moment.

“ .....PHINEAS THINKS I’M BEAUTIFUL?!??!?!??!”

...

The walk home was quiet.

Ferb didn’t usually talk much, so said quiet wasn’t unusual on his end.

But Phineas and Isabella weren’t saying much either. Which was very unusual.

Ferb knew he was probably to blame for that. So he’d decided to give the teasing a rest for the night.

When they arrived in front of Isabella’s house, Ferb said goodbye to her before taking his leave and crossing the street.

(He wasn’t sure whether or not she and Phineas wanted to talk alone, but he wanted to give them space in case they did.)

“So! Uh…” Phineas rubbed the back of his neck. He and Isabella hadn’t really spoken since they left the Football X7 stadium. “Do you want to come over and put the finishing touches on our song tomorrow?”

Isabella blinked and nodded. In all the commotion of the past couple of hours, she’d nearly forgotten about the project. “Yeah, yeah...we should probably do that....we don’t want to put it off until Sunday.”

“Alright. I guess, uh...I guess I’ll text you tomorrow. And then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“That sounds good. ...I’ll see you then.”

Isabella didn’t look at him as she said goodbye. Her eyes were instead cast upward at the sky and illuminated with starlight.

“....they really are beautiful, aren’t they?” she whispered softly.

Phineas followed her gaze...and his heart stuttered when he realized what she must have been thinking about (and when he realized she didn’t sound embarrassed or flustered at all but rather...somewhat awestruck).

A few seconds ambled by.

Phineas bit his lip and steeled his courage...and then reached out for Isabella’s hand.

“.....they sure are…” he agreed.

Except he wasn’t looking at the sky anymore.

Isabella glanced down at their hands, and then up at Phineas...who was already gazing at her.

Her pulse quickened.

“And...you’re beautiful too…” Phineas whispered gently. “Inside and out….”

He leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to her cheek.

“Thanks for taking care of me earlier. Goodnight, Isabella.”

(Isabella had given him a thank-you kiss a few days ago, after all. If she asked, Phineas could say he was simply returning the favor.)

Isabella couldn’t move. She could barely even stand. Her knees were going to give out any second now.

She watched as Phineas crossed the street, as he made it to his front door, as he waved at her.

She should probably go open her own door.

But she couldn’t move.

Her stomach was in knots and her head was spinning and her heart was pounding so loudly the entire neighborhood could probably hear it.

….she wasn’t in Phineasland again, was she?

She blinked and shook her head, just to be sure.

The rosy warmth on her cheek didn’t fade away. Phineas’s words still echoed clear as day in her mind.

That kiss had been real. His words had been real.

Phineas had said she was beautiful. Twice.

Phineas had kissed her.

…Phineas was still standing outside, waiting for her to go inside.

Somehow, Isabella managed to make it to her front door and open it. Phineas waved in her direction again before shutting his own door (and subsequently melting into a puddle in the foyer, though Isabella had no way of knowing that last bit).

She gazed out across the street and then up at the stars for a few moments as a tentative grin blossomed over her face.

Isabella wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring...but after tonight, she had a pretty good feeling about it.

“....goodnight, Phineas.”

Ferb chuckled as he stared down at his brother, who lay sprawled out in the middle of the foyer with a lovestruck grin on his face.

“I take it things went well out there?”

Phineas beamed.

“...yes, yes they did.”

...

Thanks so much for reading, and thanks as always to @youruinedmylifebynotbeingreal for being a lovely beta!!!!

I posted doodles of a few scenes (you can probably guess which ones, lol) for this chapteron my blog if you’d like to check them out!!

(also @dragonairice drew an AMAZING digital version of the “I suppose you didn’t need a skylight to see stars” scene that you can find here!! pls go check it out, it’s fantastic!!!!)

Thanks so much for reading, and I’ll see you soonish for chapter 6! It’s gonna be a good one!!! ;D

(also, if there are any music theorists reading this, pls don't hate me for the barebones theory lesson at the beginning of the chapter. I tried to explain dominant and tonic chords as simply as I could, but I know there is a lot more to them than what I wrote! LOL)

#cadence writes #can't help falling in love #phineas and ferb #phineas and ferb fic #phineas and ferb fanfic #phineas flynn #isabella garcia shapiro #phinabella #phinbella #phineas and isabella #isabella and phineas #tw: injury #I FINALLY FIXED THIS POST!! WOO!!

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cinnaminsvga · 5 years ago

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💋 | tlhc!yoongi

the sleep deprived series (n.): drabbles that i write when i’m sad and tired

→ tlhc!yoongi ft. jungkook | 3.5K words → a/n: this was written after an anon sent me a REALLY angsty idea for tlhc and i haven’t stopped thinking about it since. also, this takes place after namjin’s wedding but before yoongi and y/n get together (in this drabble, they’re “dating” but i say that loosely because... well. they’re fucking yoongi and y/n so OFC they’re stupidly, emotionally constipated). anyway... here’s This!! rip!!

Yoongi knows he’s being childish when he leaves your shared apartment with a large pout on his face. He knows that if he just tried a little harder, he could’ve convinced you to let him stay at home instead of going to some godforsaken bachelor party. He hasn’t been to a party involving body shots and strippers since he graduated from university, and he isn’t exactly keen on returning to that particular scene either. He has always been a more wine and dine type of guy, and everyone is aware of this.

It’s a well-known fact amongst his circle of friends that Min Yoongi isn’t keen on attending most types of social gatherings. Birthdays, weddings, anniversaries, casual get-togethers… It didn’t matter what the occasion is because Yoongi is certainly going to hate every second of it. It didn’t even matter if the party was being hosted by a long-time friend; after all, sitting in a room filled with half-strangers and estranged friends isn’t exactly what Yoongi would consider a “fun time.”

It doesn’t stop people from inviting him out of courtesy, though.

Most of the time, Yoongi is able to grit through the pain of human interaction as long as you tagged along with him. You’re kind of like Yoongi’s walking meat shield when it comes to parties, though you aren’t exactly fond of his analogy when he had explained himself to you. Nevertheless, you always did understand him better than anyone else, always being his savior from awkward small talk by redirecting the conversation away from him. Or, you would quietly tug him outside to the backyard so that the two of you could pet the party owner’s dog or something.

Truly, what would he have done without you?

“I still don’t understand why you expect me to go to this party alone. You’re practically feeding me to the sharks,” Yoongi whines, not at all immaturely. He can hear your exasperated sigh through his phone speakers, though he imagines that you hadn’t been aiming to conceal your ire in the first place.

“Yoonie, it’s Jungkook’s bachelor party. You heard what that dweeb said: ‘No girls allowed’ or some shit. Like some sort of toddler. I’m surprised he even asked you to attend.”

“Are you implying that I should be barred entry because of my feminine hips?” Yoongi asks, hopeful. “Cause honestly, I was only kinda offended when Jungkook said I had twink-sized proportions, so I mean…”

You scoff, though Yoongi can imagine you shaking your head with tired fondness. AKA, your default mood towards him on most days. Yoongi doubts that fondness is going to help him convince you to let him get the fuck out of this party, though. “Save it. You’re going to that party or else.”

Yoongi sniffs, offended. “Honestly, you should be the one going instead of me. I’m not as close to that pussyboi as you are.”

“Hey, only I’m allowed to call him that,” you chide. “Besides, you already left the house. I don’t understand why you’re calling me in the first place. It’s almost 8PM and you should be at the restaurant by now.”

It’s true. Yoongi is literally already in front of the restaurant where they all agreed to meet before heading out to the “main event,” or whatever the hell that means. It could only end badly; after all, Park Jimin had been the one to organize this shitshow of a bachelor party. Things will not go in Yoongi’s favor tonight if Jimin can help it.

“I’m only here because you threatened to disfigure Kobe Bryant-sunbaenim! That bobblehead is limited edition!” Yoongi has the strongest urge to stomp his feet, though he restrains himself only so that the hostess by the entrance of the restaurant won’t call the manager on him (again.) He is nearing his 30’s for fuck’s sake! Then again, Seokjin is a year older than him and if Yoongi’s future is anything like his, he shudders to think what might become of him.

“Yoonie,” you say, voice steely and quiet. Uh oh. You’re getting genuinely angry by now, and Yoongi knows he’s pushing your buttons to their limits. However, he wouldn’t be doing it otherwise if he really didn’t want to go to this party. He hates disappointing you, but nothing on this planet could ever make him want to go through those mahogany doors and face that bucktoothed loser with stars in his googly eyes.

Yoongi sighs, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. “I know, I know. I’m being childish. It’s just a party and I should just endure it. Although, I’m not promising that I’ll even try to pretend that I’m enjoying it. That’s beyond my paygrade, I’m afraid,” Yoongi says, picking his hangnails as he gazes at the entrance of the restaurant. The hostess’ left eyebrow twitches slightly, a forced customer service smile on her lips. Yoongi feels a sudden sense of strong camaraderie with this stranger.

“I was just gonna say that if you really can’t stand the party, then I’m allowing you an out. If you can stay there for at least two hours, then you can leave once you’ve––“

You hardly get to finish your sentence when Yoongi cuts you off, a strangled sob of relief escaping his throat. “Oh, thank you, my goddess! You are truly the apple of my eye; I shalt never speak ill of you no longer! You are heaven incarnate, my fair and beautiful mistress, the sun who has chased away the darkness––“

“Shut the fuck up, court jester,” you say, endearment dripping like honey off of your words. But Yoongi is already smiling ear to ear, hopelessly warm for some reason. If Hoseok had been around, he would have gagged at the sight of the two of you.

We’re so whipped, Yoongi thinks idly to himself.

“Now go say hello to Jungkook for me, will you? And please, if either he or Jimin do anything stupid or illegal, try to hold them back a little, okay?”

“Nope, I don’t think so,” Yoongi says, before promptly hanging up. Before he pockets his phone, he texts a short “ily” just in case he actually might have pissed you off. Either way, that will be a problem for future Yoongi to figure out.

Just as he ended the calls, a muffled crash and what sounds like a hyena being forced down a trash compactor from inside the restaurant echoes ominously through the open streets. Yoongi and the hostess hardly flinch at the cacophany, both of them staring glassily at the smoggy South Korean sky with quiet acquiescence.

“Fuck me,” Yoongi says. “Fuck me, indeed.”

*.*.*.*.*

The party is as terrible as Yoongi had imagined. Scratch that––Yoongi doesn’t think his imagination is capable of conjuring such a nightmarish scene. He’s pretty sure at least 99% of the inhabitants of this strip club were doing something slightly to moderately illegal. Case in point:

“Jeon Jungkook, I don’t think you should be doing that,” Yoongi yells over the discordant noise that the DJ is trying to pass off as “music.” Jungkook pauses in his ministrations to turn to face Yoongi, which is a feat in itself, as it appears that Jungkook’s eyes were facing opposite directions. Yoongi chooses to maintain eye contact with his left one.

“Whaaa? Why not, coconut?” Jungkook giggles at his little rhyme at the end, but his laughter sounds garbled, probably hindered by the amount of saliva pooling inside his mouth.

Yoongi points at his hands. “Jungkook. I’m pretty sure that is not salt that you are pouring over your fries.”

It takes a few moments for Jungkook to register anything that Yoongi had said. In fact, Yoongi doesn’t think he registers them at all; Yoongi has to forcefully take away the soiled plate of “mystery powder fries” away from him before Jungkook even realizes anything is going on.

“Heeeey, getchur own food, boomer!” Jungkook whines, making grabby hands at the plate before flopping pathetically onto Yoongi’s lap. Yoongi, ever the gentleman, pushes the younger off until he tumbles off the side of the booth and into a mysterious puddle spilled by one of the scantily clad “mechanics.” Jungkook, to his credit, gets up back onto his seat with some semblance of grace (which is to say, he managed to get his ass onto the couch without any additional injury.)

“I can’t believe I’m literally at a glorified children’s party. And I thought babysitting Namjoon’s little demon was bad enough,” Yoongi groans, grimacing in disgust at the mystery liquid from the floor oozes gently down the side of Jungkook’s face. “Dude. Wipe your fucking face.”

Jungkook, known laundry-fanatic and clean freak extraordinaire, promptly takes off his pristine white shirt and uses it to dab his face away. After which, he throws it somewhere behind him, right into a circle of twinks who proceed to fight over who gets to keep it. “Better,” he mutters, same dopey smile on his face.

“Just 1 hour, 18 minutes and 34 seconds left, Yoongi… I can do this,” Yoongi says through clenched teeth. He takes a deep breath, counts to ten, tries to remember what his therapist told him to do when he’s slowly losing his grip on reality. Then, Jungkook throws up all over his new leather shoes.

“Hyung,” Jungkook mutters sleepily, head lolling like he’s about to drop dead in a second. He grins dopily at Yoongi, a string of saliva dripping down the side of his cheek. “I think I’m sick.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” And so, like the kind person that he is, he drags Jungkook by the armpits, dodging sweaty strippers and drunken guests alike as he tows the younger to the nearby restroom. Yoongi contemplates bringing Jungkook to Jimin to take care of him instead, but that idea is completely dashed the moment he sees the latter drinking shots as if it were water. The risk of having two people vomit on his shoes in one night would have been extremely high, and Yoongi isn’t an idiot. So he takes the idiot draped across his back to the toilet himself.

The restroom is empty when they arrive. When Yoongi slams the door shut, it becomes shockingly quiet as the noise from outside gets dulled to a soft throb. Yoongi immediately dumps Jungkook against one of the chipped porcelain sinks, grimacing slightly when the younger causes the sink to groan precariously from his weight.

“Hyungie,” Jungkook warbles. The sweat on his brow has made his bangs stick to his forehead in strange patterns, and Yoongi imagines he could rearrange his hair to spell out “SHITHEAD” if he so desired.

“What.” Yoongi grabs a handful of paper towels and proceeds to try (and fail) to clean the carnage on his shoes. Meanwhile, Jungkook just stands there quietly, spit long since dried on his face, adding to the sheen already there. The quietness of the restroom is both jarring and awkward compared to the insanity just behind the door, and Yoongi finds himself preferring to look at his black-turned-brown shoes instead of the boy standing just to his right.

“I think I overdid it,” Jungkook admits after a while. Yoongi chances a glance upwards before looking back down at the floor, uncomfortable when he sees the surprisingly sober face of a man who had just finished drinking ten tequila shots.

“You think?” Yoongi snorts, rolling his eyes. He inches forward towards the sink, gently nudging Jungkook out of the way to wash his hands. Jungkook has still yet made a move towards the faucet himself, but Yoongi isn’t about to offer to clean him up either. He’s already a Samaritan for bringing him to the restroom; he’s used up all his empathy points for today.

“Y/N and Tae always say that I have severely low impulse control.”

True to form, Yoongi’s traitorous ears perk up at the mention of your name, and he finally makes full eye contact with Jungkook through the mirror. “It took two people and ten tequila shots to figure it out? Geez. No wonder you almost didn’t graduate kindergarten.”

“Hey, I told you that in confidence,” Jungkook pouts.

“Not my problem,” Yoongi retorts, indifferent. Yoongi stares at him for a moment. “Jesus. You look like a fucking mess. You sure you’re getting married next week?”

“I’m pretty sure, unless Taehyung changes his mind,” Jungkook shrugs. Well, that was certainly not quite the answer Yoongi was expecting. Yoongi must not have been quick enough to hide his surprise because Jungkook laughs coldly, the sound mirthless and paper-thin––not at all like the ridiculously mirthful manchild he’s always known him to be.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet?” Yoongi had meant to say it like a joke, but his harsh tone doesn’t escape his own ears. God, he wishes he was better at this, but sue him for lacking practice at consoling other human beings.

Luckily, Jungkook takes it in stride, shrugging his shoulders. “Not really. More like… I’m in disbelief? That he’d actually… after all this time…”

Yoongi doesn’t reply at first. For as long as Yoongi has known him, the elder has never quite connected with Jungkook, for whatever reason. Hearing him speak so candidly about his feelings like this is new territory for Yoongi, and it’s strangely making him nervous. He feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention as he is faced with a side of Jungkook that Yoongi didn’t think he was capable of having. Sure, you’ve told him vaguely about the problems that Jungkook has asked advice about, but never has Yoongi ever thought that he’d be doing the same. The two of them just weren’t… like that.

“I’m sure Taehyung likes––no, loves you. A lot. Anyone with eyes can see that he absolutely adores you,” Yoongi says after a while, coughing awkwardly into his fist. God, he sucks at this. Where are you when he needs you? You always knew what to say in moments like this.

Jungkook laughs again, and it’s just as discordant as the first. He shakes his head, empty smile on his lips. “It’s not that. I don’t doubt him in the slightest. It’s more like… I’m doubting myself.”

Now that catches Yoongi’s attention. Self-doubt, loneliness, fear: if Yoongi had to be an expert on anything, it would be for those three. He… he gets it. “Jungkook, if this is about feeling like you don’t deserve him, then you’re dead wrong. You’re allowed to be loved, Jungkook. Believe me, I know more than anyone what denial feels like. The two of you aren’t going to crash and burn, okay? You’ll be fine.”

Jungkook smiles wryly at that. “Thanks. But it’s not… it’s not that.” Jungkook pauses, and it looks like the words get caught in his throat. He opens his mouth, closes it. Grimaces like he’s swallowed something bitter. He takes a deep breath, looking as uncomfortable as Yoongi feels. “Yoongi-hyung, I have a confession to make.”

Now Yoongi’s confused. “What?”

“I haven’t been… candid. With you. About…” Jungkook takes another shaky breath. “About me and Y/N.”

Yoongi’s blood runs cold. He feels the sweat start to form across his palms, and he clenches them into fists to stop them from shaking. He can almost sense the disaster before it even hits, feels the floor swimming underneath his feet, waiting to devour him whole.

“What?” Yoongi repeats.

“I’ve been thinking about it, recently. It’s been years since I last even remembered it, but then it started plaguing my dreams, and it’s… It’s ruining me. I need––I need to come clean or else I might die with regret,” Jungkook says. Yoongi still doesn’t understand what he means; Jungkook is just saying words without saying anything at all, and it’s making the wait even more terrible.

“Kook, just spit it out already.”

“Hyung, I beg of you. Please don’t think badly of me but…” Jungkook slumps to the floor just then, both the sink and his legs unable to keep him up any longer. Against his will, Yoongi tumbles with him, compelled to follow him down.

“What? What? What?”

“I kissed her,” Jungkook murmurs, voice low. Whispered like a secret. Because it is a secret, even though it isn’t any longer. Not when the words have crawled out his mouth and into Yoongi’s ears, making its way to his brain where it refuses to be understood, to be processed.

“What?” Yoongi can’t seem to remember how to breathe, much less how to speak. He can’t say anything else except, “What?”

“N-not recently. A long time ago,” Jungkook hurries, fear crossing his face when he realizes how he must have sounded. “I would never cheat on––Y/N would never cheat on you––“

His words do nothing to quell the thunderous beating in Yoongi’s chest. He can only stare as the younger jumbles over his words, fat tears starting to dribble out of his eyes like waterfalls. Why is he crying? This is so wrong.

“We––when you broke her heart, all those years ago. Before she ran away to Daegu––“

Yoongi remembers. Of course he does. He doesn’t think he can ever forget.

“––she was so so sad, and it fucking hurt. It hurt seeing her like that, you know? I… I hated you for it. So much, hyung,” Jungkook sobs, hiding behind his hands. He wipes at his face, smearing his sweat, tears, and vomit with shaky movements. “And then she kissed me but it was a mistake because she was heartbroken and she just wanted to feel––to feel something? I don’t know… And then I pushed her away––“

“You pushed her away?” Yoongi interrupts, uncharacteristically calm. He thinks like he should be screaming, maybe. Or feel jealous, even. But then again, this had happened years ago, when you and he hadn’t even been… anything, at the time. Hell, he has no right to be hurt by this. He shouldn’t even be allowed to resent Jungkook for it. Shouldn’t have to feel like he won’t be able to forgive Jungkook. So then why is he..?

Jungkook nods. “I-I did, but that’s not… the whole thing. For a while, I thought that maybe…” He curls into himself, bowing his head in shame. Yoongi doesn’t need to hear the rest to know what he was about to say.

“You used to love her, didn’t you?”

Jungkook nods again, ashamed. Disgusted with himself. “Pathetic, right?”

But the thing is, Yoongi already knew this. You’ve told him about Jungkook’s misplaced affections for you; it had happened during a stressful time for the both of you, and you had assured Jungkook that his feelings were just a figment of his imagination. You believed that Jungkook had just been lonely, desperate for someone to cling onto especially after all that drama between Taehyung and Hoseok at the time.

“She kept telling me that I wasn’t in love with her. And for a while, I believed her. But then, when she was about to leave for America, we… we kissed again. Just to… I wanted to make sure,” Jungkook slams his fist onto the dirty restroom floor, clawing at the tiles like an animal in pain. It’s getting harder for Yoongi to understand Jungkook through his sobs, but he is afraid of even moving lest Jungkook stops speaking. It’s like watching a car crash––no matter how much Yoongi is afraid, he can’t look away.

“When we kissed the second time... She laughed. I laughed. ‘No spark,’ was what she said. I agreed because I had no other choice but to,” Jungkook admits. He exhales like his chest has been ripped open, like he’s drowning. Yoongi feels the same way.

“It would be unfair if I said anything. To her, to you, to Taehyung… but most of all, to myself. Because it would never work. It’s not… I’m not...” Jungkook coughs, trailing off. He hacks his lungs out, forehead banging against his knees from the force. He heaves for air once, twice. Then, silence.

“Jungkook?” Yoongi whispers, momentarily stunned. When the younger doesn’t reply, he nudges his shoulder. No movement. Yoongi tilts his head upwards, only to find Jungkook’s eyelids already closed and breathing steadily through his nose. The bastard had finally passed out.

“Jesus,” Yoongi sighs, letting go of the younger and letting him crumple to the floor. Yoongi contemplates passing out as well. “Jesus,” Yoongi repeats.

He sits there in silence for a while, accompanied only by his thoughts and the muffled sounds of the party outside. He doesn’t know how long he sits there for, only thinks to leave the restroom when a young couple (Jungkook’s college friends) burst in while making out, both incognizant of the odd pair slumped on the floor.

Yoongi leaves Jungkook there, but not before sending a short text to Jimin to go check on Jungkook, and sending another one to Taehyung for good measure. Yoongi rushes out of the club without looking back, feeling slightly more empty than he had before the night started.

You don’t comment when Yoongi comes back home earlier than expected. You don’t even scold him for breaking his side in the agreement. Wrapped up in blankets in front of the TV, you wordlessly open up your cocoon to let him slither in beside you, allowing him to wrap his cold feet against your legs. You don’t even complain when he falls asleep without another word, just gently caressing his hair as he descends into fitful dreams. He doesn’t bring up the party the next day, and neither do you.

The following week, the two of you attend Taehyung and Jungkook’s wedding.

#btsboulangerie #bts scenarios #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts #bts imagines #bts angst #min yoongi #yoongi scenarios #yoongi imagines #yoongi angst #bangtan #the sleep deprived series

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athelari · 4 years ago

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6½. drala’fa

Day 6?/7 of the Mass Effect Trilogy Week : alternate entry for the Alternate Universe theme *Inception music intensifies*. 1.4k words; gen; instead of just Archangel, the whole gang is a vigilante group on Omega; Shepard/Thane in the background; no content warnings.

Omega. Home and battleground to countless gangs and merc groups, constantly embroiled in the Sisyphean struggle for supremacy. A place inhabited only by the desperate and those who prey on them, where crime drips and permeates every layer of society like water from a leaky pipe.

At least, before they arrived.

She leans against the railing and watches the crowd ebb and flow, bathed in the flickering neon lights. Just another day in their lives, filled with jobs and errands and the mundane realities of daily existence. To the average onlooker, the Gozu District looks no different from the rest of the station: packed, unwashed, and poor as dirt. But there's one key difference, one thing the Gozu has that the rest of the station lacks: safety.

“Shepard. Kasumi's here.”

She turns to see Kolyat, leaning against the doorway to the balcony. “Already?” Then, nodding at the datapad in his hand: “What’ve we got?”

He falls into step with her, long strides matching her brisk, militaristic pace. “Blue Suns harassing the clinic again. They haven't made any big moves, just loitering and showing off their guns, trying to look intimidating.” He sniffs, indignant. “As if Mordin would bat an eye.”

“Tell Garrus to escort the next shipment. Ten credits they'll turn tail the moment they see Archangel in the area.”

He hums a wordless acknowledgement. They round the corner, turning into a narrow corridor, footsteps echoing hollowly against metal walls. “Tali's finished cracking the new grid. We should be able to get in and out with no problem now. Word on the street says the warehouse is somewhere in the Fumi District.”

“Word on the street?” she echoes, raising an eyebrow. “Not Ish?”

“No. The quarian with the junk shop, and one of the dancers in Afterlife.”

“Kenn? He's reliable. Send someone discreet to give a quick look around. Better yet, reach out to the Talons. It's their territory Eclipse is breaching. If Kandros takes the bait, tell her they can have the loot as long as all the red sand is destroyed. I don’t wanna see a single crate make it to the market.”

The door swishes open, and they step into a small, square room. Like the rest of the base, it is sparsely decorated and serves a specific purpose; unlike most of its ilk, it contains a low table by the far wall, an old-fashioned calligraphic scroll in the old Rakhana style, and no other furniture.

As soon as they enter, Kasumi Goto whirls round to face them, a slight smirk on her painted lips. “Hey, Shep.” Her eyes flicker towards Kolyat, and her smile breaks into a grin. “Bō. Good to see you again.”

“Likewise,” Kolyat inclines his head towards her, and then turns to Shepard. “Dad's supposed be back any time now. I should go and see if his shuttle's arrived.”

She nods, and he makes his exit. Only after the doors shut behind him does Kasumi stir, head tilted at a jaunty angle and one hand on her hip. “Did he just say ‘I should go’? My, my. Sounds like you're infectious.” She gestures towards a box lying on the floor. “Here you go, everything as we agreed. Call it proof of my sincere loyalty.”

A large white case, emblazoned with the Cerberus logo, its lock forced open and jury-rigged shut again afterwards. Shepard eyes it over, noting the unscathed finish and clean, glossy paint. “I take it the mission was a success?”

Kasumi makes a dismissive noise. She kneels by the case and pops it open before adding, over her shoulder: “Don't get me wrong, the lock was triple-encrypted and the base security key changes every week. But even Cerberus' best and brightest is no match for the best thief in the galaxy.”

“Obviously,” Shepard agrees. She steps forward to peer into the case, before emitting a low whistle. “Is that what I think it is?”

“If you're thinking ‘one-of-a-kind custom sword with monomolecular blade’, then yeah.” Kasumi lifts it from the case, and lights dance on the ceiling where it reflects off the blade. “Snatched this baby from right under their noses. It was supposed to be for some wetworks guy, Ken or Kay or… something.”

She passes it to Shepard, who accepts it quickly, turning it in her hands and examining it with meticulous attention. “No curvature, no distinct marks… crossguard's ugly as they come. Does everything have to be black, white, and yellow?” She runs her thumb along the hilt until she finds the sensor. “Hah. Electrified. Did you hack the user key?”

“Not yet, but I'm sure our quarian friend will have no problem with it.” Kasumi pauses, waiting for a reply. When none seems forthcoming, she adds: “Or I can do it now if you want.”

“That won't be necessary.” Shepard lowers the sword again, placing it on the table. “And the rest?”

“Mostly Talons, Hornets, a few Eviscerators under the cloaking devices. I left them with Zaeed in the hangar.” Kasumi’s eyes sparkle with a professional’s pride in a job well done. “Told you I can do it.”

Shepard nods. “All right. You’ve proved your point. Just tell me one more thing.”

“Shoot.” Beat. “Not literally, I hope.”

“Why us?”

Their gazes meet. Shepard keeps her expression neutral, but she knows there’s no ambiguity in her silence. It says: you’re going to tell me exactly what I want to know, and you’re not going to lie, because we both know that won't be good for your health.

Kasumi shrugs. “At first? Just curiosity. Everyone knows the Drala'fa keep tight control over Gozu. I didn't think much of it at first. Sounded just like another protection racket to me. When Liara hired me to do the New Dawn heist, I was just in it for the score. Then you funnelled the entire shipment to the local clinic, pro bono. That’s when I knew you weren't just any gang.

“So, I started digging deeper. Turns out there’s more to you guys than robbing pharmaceutical corporations and monopolising the district. Aria may be the queen of Omega, but you’re the closest thing this place’s got to oversight. You don’t just keep the area under watch, you actually care about the people who live in it. Do you know how many escaped batarian slaves live in your district?”

“About two hundred and twenty,” Shepard answers readily. “At least half of them in Nictus’ apartment complex.”

“See? That’s what I mean. You’re not some big boss type. You’re…” Kasumi waves a hand in the air vaguely, “a shepherd. People don’t follow you because they’re scared of you. They follow you because they know you care.”

Shepard snorts. “Nice speech.”

“Thanks. I practiced in my bathroom this morning.”

“You really came prepared. I'm impressed.”

There's a bottle of elasa on the table, along with a single cup. Shepard uncorks the former, pours it into the latter, and takes a long sip. The alcohol buzzes in her mouth, bitter and fragrant, before burning its way down her throat to leave a sweet aftertaste.

Then she proffers the rest to Kasumi, a silent offering. There's a moment of perfect, breathless stillness.

(Does she know what accepting it would mean? She does. The faint glimmer of recognition in her dark eyes says so. She still remembers the old traditions, then. Good. Someone has to.)

Slowly, with great care, Kasumi takes the cup and downs its contents in one shot. She doesn't return the empty cup, but keeps it in her lap, holding it with both hands.

“Welcome to the Drala'fa, Kasumi,” Shepard leans forward to offer her hand, which the other woman promptly shakes. “Remember why we're here. Remember who we are. Remember who we stand for.”

“I will.”

A protracted pause. The cool air whirs like static.

Finally, it’s Kasumi who breaks the silence. She clears her throat and begins, almost apologetically: “You know, if you wanted the real deal, I can probably find you a crate or two. Human drinks are getting pretty popular in Thessia lately.”

Shepard chuckles. “Tempting. But maybe later. Right now, I’ve got a couple other jobs open. Word is Eclipse has a red sand warehouse somewhere in the Fumi District. Feel like doing a little recon work? Just recon; locate the warehouse, count heads, gauge their strength, the usual.”

“Sure.” Kasumi grins, and they both rise to their feet. She tugs the edge of her hood, pulling it deeper over her head, before adding: “You’re the boss, Boss.”

#mass effect #trilogyweek #commander shepard #kolyat krios #kasumi goto #they're the only one actually appearing so.#mikaela shepard #it's mika #athelari writes #self-indulgent twaddle probably #it's taking space in my head. i'm making headcanons for an alternate au.

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babyczk · 5 years ago

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christmas with you — eh

summary: edwin finds himself stranded on campus for christmas, quickly realizing he isn’t the only one who isn’t able to go home for the holidays

authors note: literally just some fluff (:

•••

the subtle throbbing of music coming through the walls of edwin’s tiny dorm usually wouldn’t frustrate him, but he was already in the grumpiest of moods.

it was christmas eve, a time of year that edwin particularly loved [aside from halloween] but unfortunately for him, he’d been scheduled to work through the holiday season, and there had been absolutely no way he could get his shifts covered to venture back home to the bronx.

he was missing matching pajama sets with his entire family, iconic pictures that would be used as christmas cards in the future, and time away from school and with the people he loved most. it was excruciatingly painful to sit on facetime with his parents and siblings instead of physically being there.

the only good thing was he would be alone in the dorms, figuring that mostly everyone else would’ve left for the winter break. his roommate had, leaving edwin with a bit more space than usual. of course, like everything else in his life, things just couldn’t go his way.

when the music seemed to be growing louder with each passing minute, and edwin had exceeded the volume for netflix on his laptop, he begrudgingly threw off his sheet covers, angrily slipping his feet into slippers.

muttering profanities under his breah, he opened his door and marched the three feet over to the next room. knocking loudly, he waited impatiently on the other side of the door, having every intention of letting his anger out on whoever was about to open it.

the music instantly stopped, edwin hearing rustling from the other side, before the door swung open. his breath halted in his throat, seeing the bouncy curls of adaline summers. jeans rolled up, and sweatshirt sleeves cuffed, her brown eyes held nothing but confusion and question as she stared at edwin.

his mouth was insanely dry all of a sudden, mostly because he shared three classes with adaline, and in each one he found her progressively more beautiful than the last. his friends were constantly teasing him about his middle grade crush on her, but honestly, how could he not find her attractive.

“do you need something?” she asked, leaning against the frame of the door in curiosity.

“uh... n-no. i mean, i just...” edwin stuttered over himself, wishing the entirety of the floor would open up and swallow him whole, saving him from this excruciatingly, embarrassing moment.

adaline blinked, clearly more puzzled then before. “sorry?”

“i just didn’t think anyone was still in the dorms this close to christmas, s’all,” edwin blurted. “music was kinda loud.”

the puzzled expression on adaline’s face quickly turned to horror, followed by immediate regret. she pushed a stray curl away from her face, sheepishly smiling at the dominican boy. “fuck. i’m so sorry. i didn’t think anyone was here either, usually i’d have my headphones in. totally my bad.”

edwin felt a course of pity run through him. clearly, he could’ve stuffed some noise canceling headphones on himself, or maybe gone down to the lounge. he didn’t need to be a buzzkill and shut down her music, but another part of him knew he was only trying to find an excuse because this was adaline summers.

“no, no. you’re fine.”

adaline shook her head. “i swear, if i knew you were on this floor, i wouldn’t have been this much of an asshole.”

“i believe you,” edwin smiled shyly. “i didn’t even know you lived in this room until five minutes ago.”

adaline squinted a little, her eyes raking in one swift movement over edwin’s figure. she knew him from the three classes they shared, and she also knew he was an audio engineering major, sometimes seeing him putting flyers up around the dorms advertising shows he was playing in at local bars or clubs.

“funny, seems like we’re the only two people still on campus for christmas,” she pointed out. edwin shrugged, pulling at the drawstrings of his hoodie.

“kinda sad if you think about it, huh?”

adaline shrugged, kicking her door open a little wider. “only if you think about it. mind me asking if you’re doing anything worthwhile right now, edwin?”

his mouth dried up at the sound of his name coming from her tongue. a sense of pure giddiness at her simply remembering who he was.

“netflix and chilling, mostly. why?”

edwin half expected adaline to wrinkle her button nose in discontent, changing her mind and slamming the door in his face, but instead he was met with her dimpled grin, which might’ve caused severe heart palpitations for him.

“i know the most amazing spot for hot chocolate.”

he furrowed his brows. “aren’t all public restaurants closed right now?”

a mischievous glint reflected in her eyes, causing edwin to swallow thickly. “i might know a way to get in... unless you don’t want to come with me?”

edwin weighed his options. he could either decline and spend christmas eve, alone, burrowed under a plethora of blankets, with his eyes glued to his laptop screen. or, he could agree, and spend what was supposed to be a pity party with a beautiful girl, drinking hot chocolate.

he chose the latter.

adaline beamed. “great choice. lemme grab my jacket and keys, real quick.” edwin nodded, deciding to use that time to grab his stuff from his room as well, practically giddy with excitement as he flitted around the small space, the goofiest smile on his lips.

“ready?” he whirled around to see her leaning against his door he’d left propped open. she’d secured her curly hair in a messy bun above her head, a few tendrils coming down and framing her face. her red puffer was pulled up to her chin, making her look, in edwin’s opinion, the cutest he’s ever seen her look.

he hummed in agreement, the two of them bundled up to brace the cold weather, as they walked side by side through the empty campus. the conversation flowed easily, edwin finding himself having to stop in his tracks multiple times from doubling over in laughter.

“what’s your plan to get this hot chocolate?” he asked.

producing a set of keys from her pocket, she jangled them in front of his face, the mischievous glint still in her eyes. “like this.”

“how’d you get those?”

“i work here,” she said, matter-of-factly. “figured my compensation for closing up last week could come in this.”

“so we won’t get in trouble?”

“not if we don’t get caught.”

edwin gulped, letting adaline fiddle with the keys in the lock. he couldn’t afford to get caught, knowing breaking and entering would probably get him a one way ticket straight out of university, and him being on scholarship meant he had to be on his best behavior at all times. and right now, adaline was making that extremely hard.

the door to the small cafe creaked open, and adaline stood up, a triumphant grin on her lips. pushing herself inside, edwin followed behind tentatively, the rush of warm air hitting him. the lights flickered on, as adaline began taking chairs off of an adjacent table, beckoning for edwin to sit.

“any special requests for your hot chocolate?” she asked, already walking behind the counter.

“you got marshmallows?”

she smiled. “just for you.”

the cafe was cozy, lights strung up around the place, and different christmas decorations on the surrounding tables. edwin relaxed in the plush chair, looking up when adaline came back around with two steaming mugs, each topped with whipped cream and as she promised, edwin’s had marshmallows littering his.

“i’ve been told i’m a hot chocolate expert, y’know.” edwin hummed, letting the warm liquid run through his body. the chocolate goodness was enough to agree with adaline’s sentiment, and she laughed at his expression.

“well, you’ve been told right.” edwin glanced at the clock behind her head, noticing that it was exactly one minute until christmas day. “if someone had told me this was how i was spending my last minute of christmas eve, i don’t think i would’ve believed them.”

adaline raised a brow. “meaning?”

“breaking into a cafe with a beautiful girl, and drinking hot chocolate. probably beats out every other year.”

adaline’s laugh bounced off of the walls, the sound infectious and causing multiple butterflies in edwin’s stomach.

“you think i’m beautiful?”

“maybe...”

adaline leaned forward in her chair, elbows on the table. her fingers ghosted over edwin’s face, tracing over his skin, lingering at the tops of his lips. he was frozen in his seat, too afraid to move and disrupt her movements.

“i think you’re beautiful too.”

she dropped her fingers, much to edwin’s dismay, and before he could open his mouth to respond, she scooted her chair around, to the point where there was only a few inches of space between them.

“can i do something?”

edwin nodded once, curiousity taking over. adaline leaned forward, her chocolate breath waning over his face. instinctively, he closed his eyes, feeling her soft lips capture his softly, as if testing the waters. edwin, always the eager, couldn’t get enough, gripping the side of her face and pulling her in more. adaline smiled against the kiss, pulling away after a few moments.

“merry christmas, edwin.”

•••

in honor of december starting!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 500 FOLLOWERS, I LOVE YOU GUYS. also thank you for dealing with my inability to write lately, cranked this out over the span of a couple of days, and i still don’t know how i feel about it.

#christmas vibes #edwin honoret #edwin honoret imagines #edwin honoret blurbs #edwin honoret fluff #prettymuch #prettymuch imagines #writing

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purplesurveys · 5 years ago

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679

[Elementary School] Do you still remember any dreams you had a a child? Like, sleep-dreams? I still remember some of the nightmares. I forget the weird ones as soon as I wake up. What was your favorite game to play back then? 10-20 served as my favorite for the longest time, but I did enjoy other games like PANTS (place, animal, name, thing, and the S stood for score lmao) and Twister. How many best friends did you make through the years? I only had one constant best friend who stuck with me through thick and thin. I wasn’t exactly the most sociable kid and I found it hard to make friends. How many enemies? A couple, but in my defense I only ever made enemies with kids who had a bit of an attitude and caused trouble for my nicer classmates. There was this one problematic kid that everyone had an issue with because of her rotten fucking attitude, but I think I was the only one brave enough to have beef with her (shoutout to the violence and fighting I saw in my own home). Our fights got big enough we ultimately got sent to the guidance office, hahaha. I also fought this kid who was a known bully, andddd I enjoyed making fun of one kid who was a notorious spoiled brat and would throw a tantrum when things weren’t going her way. Did anything tragic happen to you when you were little? Home stuff that are still burned into my brain, yeah. School was a little nice to me though, so it was always nice to be not in the house.

Did anything absolutely amazing happen? I wouldn’t say my childhood was amazing. It was just... barely decent. I was provided the essentials by my family - I was fed, given vitamins, sent to school, but I missed out on all the other stuff that I needed for my development. No one ever spent time with me at home, my attention competed with five other kids’, both parents were absent, cigarettes were the first thing I smelled in the morning and brandy was the last thing I smelled at night. I was kept safe and alive lmao, but I wouldn’t call the whole thing a blast. How was your relationship with your parents back then? Weak. They barely had time for us so they made up for it by always buying us the toys, books, and DVDs we wanted. I appreciate the alternative effort but it also meant never getting to build a healthy, trusted relationship with them. Did you believe in cooties? No, that’s definitely not a thing here. I only learned about cooties from watching Fairly OddParents lmao. Did you ever get a cootie shot? What was your favorite snack to eat? The cafeteria’s corndogs were SO so good, I was so bummed when they took it out. I was also introduced to kikiam by Sam, a close friend in Grade 1. Did you own any pets during this time? We had a few goldfish here and there, but my pet rabbit hung out for a while. What was your personality like? I was mostly shy. Wouldn’t budge, even if you approached me. What was your favorite song[s]? Idk, I didn’t have much of a music taste back then and just really vibed hard to the High School Musical and Camp Rock soundtracks hahahahaha. What kind of toys did you like to play with? I loved homemaker toys lmao. I was really into cash registers, and I’d also ask my mom to buy me makeup sets, kitchen sets, restaurant sets, cooking sets, and dollhouses whenever I see one I liked. But at the same time I grew up with boys, so I also enjoyed toy soldiers and Star Wars figurines. [Middle School/Junior High] How did your personality change from Elementary to Middle School? It took a turn for the worse, really. The fact that I was pretty aloof and already struggled to make friends was paired by two factors: puberty (and the self-hatred and identity crisis that come with it) and the adjustment of moving to a new house. Needless to say I failed to adapt and I was lost and empty for a bit. What was your favorite thing to do during this time? I mostly watched wrestling as a means to cope with the loneliness. And it helped, a lot. That time is a blur to me now and I mostly forgot what else I had done to like, sustain myself lmao. Who were some of your closest friends? I had no friends and I sat alone for recess and lunch and walked by myself during dismissal. How often did you get involved with Middle School drama? Like, not at all. There was one rumor about me that managed to get out but literally no one cared about me to care about the rumor, so it fizzled out in like 5 seconds lmao. What kind of "clique" were you in? Or did you not beleive in cliques? We didn’t really have cliques, we just had friend groups everyone knew about. I was in none of them. How did people treat you? They mostly didn’t mind me. Like I didn’t cause trouble for anyone and never did anything bad – I just didn’t do anything. I was always quiet, a wallflower. I think nobody knew how to approach me, which I don’t blame them for. It was impossible to pry me open in those days. Do you look back on these years fondly? Did you hear how I just talked about that time? Lmao. What was your typical kind of lunch during school? This was around the time we just moved into our new house and my mom was adjusting as much as we were. Money was short as well so we had to contend with canned food, most of which I didn’t touch both because I didn’t like it and I was too depressed to eat. I practically starved my way through middle school, now that I think about it. What school[s] did you go to? I went to the same school for preschool, grade school, and high school. Was it really as bad as some people say Junior High is? I didn’t get junior high. Did you like to read? Yes. My favorites during this time were the Septimus Heap and Percy Jackson series. I also started reading Gone with the Wind thanks to Gab, and Les Mis because of the movie that had come out. What was one good memory you have of this time? Meeting Gabie. It made all the loneliness go away, and it was nice to finally have a friend who just talked to me and acknowledged and minded me.

Were you still enemies with someone from elementary school? Yeah, this was around the time I cut ties for Marielle because she was a dick. If you could go back and change one thing, what would you change? I’d remove the depression, obviously. [High School] Are you still in High School? Nope. I graduated exactly four years ago. Welp, it’s 1:59 AM so it’s technically four years and one day now.

Who were some of your close friends? I was (FINALLY) in a friend group in high school – Angela, Sofie, Athenna, Fern, Kaira, and Chelsea were there. We also merged with a certain friend group from one of the all-boys schools – Dave, Aaron, Raf, Jez, Jedric, Hans, Luis, Rap, and sometimes MJ were in that group. Who were some of your enemies? Nah, no more enemies. I let myself FLOURISH during this time lmfaoooo. How did your personality change from the previous years? I was definitely happier. I had best friends, close friends, and was in a friend group; this was also the time I realized high school grades aren’t worth shit in the real world, so I stopped putting much pressure on myself to perform well, and to just let loose and enjoy my time in high school, because I wasn’t ever going to get those years back. Going in, did you really think they were going to be the best four years ever? I HAD to have hope in it, because grade school made me miserable enough. I kept thinking there was no way my rock bottom could get even rockier, so I was just weirdly, forcibly optimistic about it. If that makes sense. Were they? [or are they if you're still in High School] The latter half of high school was definitely some of the best times. I was still adjusting in freshman and sophomore year. What's one memory of High School can you look back on and grin? The day Zayn Malik left One Direction, all the Directioners in my batch met up at the corridor and started crying and hugging one another. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA Did you ever cry while you were in school? Yeah, mostly when I got failing marks. How was your love life? It did okay by the time I was in junior year, which is around the time it usually gets good for people in my school anyway. How was your social life? So much better. Gabie’s friendliness with everyone highkey helped me find my own rhythm in making friends, and soon enough I was talking to people. Did you have any teachers that you just absolutely loved? Sure. Did you have any teachers that you just absolutely despised? Yup. How were/are your GPA? We don’t have that here but my general average when I graduated high school was like a 93. Did you know anyone who got pregnant? No, no one got pregnant while in high school. I have batchmates who are moms now, though. [There's no time like the present] Do you currently have a job? No, not yet. And honestly this coronavirus might stall me from getting a job just yet haha. I was so ready to apply by June or July but since the term might be extended to make up for the lost classes, I might not be able to follow that schedule anymore. What kind of job do you *want* to have? I’d like to be in PR. I did an internship in it and it was so fun and so much better than journ. What do you like to do on your free time? There’s a variety of stuff. I like eating out, spending time with my dog, going to the mall, going to museums, doing surveys, watching TV shows, watching on YouTube, reading articles. What's your relationship with your parents now? A little better, partly because I’ve found my own voice through the years and I’ve learned to take no shit from them – I was very submissive when I was a teenager, just to compare. Do you own any pets? Yes, my dog who has been with me for 12 years now. How many places have you traveled to? A buuuuuuuuuunch. Do you own a cell phone? If so, what kind? Yes, as do most of us these days haha. An iPhone. What are your goals for the future? Achieve a goal or two. Survive. What's your favorite kind of drink? Non-alcoholic: water. Alcoholic; Long island iced tea. Did you ever get into the Twilight saga craze? Yesssss. The craze started when I was in Grade 4 but I got into it in Grade 5.

What about the Harry Potter craze? I was around when it happened but I never got into it. Where is your mind at: The Past, the Present, the Future, or all around? Mostly present, but I’d mull over the future too sometimes. What's a really good movie you've seen recently? I can’t tell you about movies, but I just finished BoJack Horseman which was a brilliant fucking piece of television. Are you happy where you are right now? I’m satisfied, but I can’t call myself happy yet.

#survey #surveys

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cinderacequeen · 5 years ago

Note

For the character ask thing: Rosa?

Rosa Rivera (Coco, 2017)

First impression: She’s sassy and adorable. I like her. What’s her name and how is she related to Miguel? I’m getting some Ben and Gwen vibes between them.

Impression now: ME. Rosa is me. Also she’s my daughter and I love that the fandom decided to love her as well even with her minimal screentime. And since she was also voiced by reboot Ben 10′s Gwen’s voice actress, Montse Hernandez, I can’t distinguish the two anymore. She and Miguel are totally Ben and Gwen. I love that she plays the violin, just like her great-aunt Victoria. ♥

I have flats that look exactly like hers, I’m low-key excited about that.

Favorite moments: “You have to have talent to be in a talent show.” Literally her only line and it’s iconic for her. I’m just waiting for the Ben 10 reboot to toss in a Coco reference to Rosa. Any day now…

I love how she was sympathetic towards Miguel when his secret was outed to the family. She actually looked so sorry that he was in that terrible situation and wanted to help him!

And then her and Abel playing “Proud Corazón” alongside Miguel and happily playing their own instruments!

Idea for a story: What do you think my fanfic, “Home Is Where the Heart Is” is? Just my telling of what would happen if Rosa tragically died young and met her dead ancestors, especially her great-great grandpa Héctor for maximum bonding experience and feels?

Unpopular opinion: None. I love Rosa for who she is! ♥

Favorite relationship: I really love imagining how her relationship with her Papá Héctor would be like. He’d be as doting and protective with her as he was with Miguel! ;v;

I love the idea that Rosa and Miguel bond even more post-movie, not just over music, but with everything else. They still have their little cousin rivalry but it’s more friendly banter and gentle teasing and less of trying to best each other.

Being a Papá’s girl myself, I want hers and Berto’s bond to be touched upon more, which is something I’m trying to show in my fic!

Favorite headcanon(s): Rosa was named after her great-great aunt Rosita; her calavera markings mostly resembles hers.

Pink, purple, and blue are her favorite colors.

She didn’t start wearing glasses until she was 10. Thanks, Tíos Óscar and Felipe or Tía Victoria. :P

She LOVES ferrets and Pokémon, the latter she can watch more freely with the music ban being lifted and even enjoys trying to play some of the songs from the movies (”Lugia’s Song” is my her favorite).

She secretly practiced violin at her best friend’s house (the same girl who ran through Miguel when he met his aunts and great-grandpa Julio), which is why she seems so good at it at the end of the movie.

When Rosa grows older, her features shape out so that they’re a mix of Mamá Imelda‘s and Victoria’s face shapes and Papá Héctor‘s nose.

Her adventurous spirit makes her a bit of a daredevil, as well, more so than Miguel, which leads her to getting a few more minor injuries. Her worst one was a busted elbow after using a five foot stone wall as a make-shift balance beam that she slipped off of. Didn’t stop her though.

Papá Héctor nearly had a phantom heart attack when he first witnessed Rosa shinny up a tree and onto the roof to retrieve a toy one of her twin brothers accidentally tossed up there. He practically almost tore his hat in half, he was clenching it so hard, especially when Rosa’s foot slipped once.

Mamá Imelda calmly assures him that she and Miguel does this sort of thing all the time and seem to know what they’re doing and learns if they get hurt.

Doesn’t make Héctor feel better and he won’t stop his futile screaming at Rosa to get the heck down until she’s safely back onto terra firma. Elena and Berto were also yelling, so he’s glad he wasn’t the only one.

#answered asks #beckyarteest2004 #Pixar Coco #Papá Héctor #Héctor Rivera #**skeleton bby <3**#Mamá Imelda #Imelda Rivera #Victoria Rivera #Rosita Rivera #Rosa Rivera #Miguel Rivera #**my precious children <3**#favorite characters #favorite movies #headcanons #my headcanons #long post

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gellavonhamster · 6 years ago

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the eye of the storm, or a still life with pineapples

teen and up audiences (?) || Bertrand Baudelaire/Beatrice Baudelaire/Lemony Snicket + guest starring other ships and characters || pre-canon, canon divergence

ao3 link || originally posted in Russian

As famously said by a famous cartoonist and later by an even more famous musician and before them, probably, by many other famous and not so famous people, life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans. For example, less than half a year ago I was certain that in a little while, I would marry the woman I love, and dance with her at our wedding, which would be held in a place called the Vineyard of Fragrant Grapes. A few months passed, and here I was dancing at the wedding indeed, but not as a groom and not with the woman I dreamed to marry. However, she was also attending the party, and radiating beauty in her refined wedding dress just like in my erstwhile dreams. It was her wedding – her and another man’s, and I didn’t doubt that many guests were surprised I was invited and, on top of that, entrusted with reciting one of the wedding blessings. Then again, there weren’t that many guests: only the trusted long-time associates, most of whom both the newlyweds and I had the honour to consider our friends. Some of them were familiar with the events which had resulted in my bride marrying someone else; as to the rest of them, I hoped they were too well-mannered to whisper behind my back. On the other hand, if they decided to spread some gossip, I would not have minded it much. In these latter days, all kinds of things were being whispered about me behind my back, said out loud, and printed in the newspapers. If I had a chance to choose between the discussions of my love life and the accusations of crimes I had nothing to do with, I would have chosen the former without a moment’s hesitation. Unfortunately, in practice, there were two options: either both the former and the latter or just the latter, and I had no choice anyway.

Even the celebration venue was not what I had expected. The Vineyard of Fragrant Grapes was undoubtedly very lovely at that time of the year, but just like many other gardens, libraries, restaurants, post offices, bookstores, and tailor shops, it had lately become unsafe for the members of our organization. It was far too risky to organize the wedding in a widely known place. That was why the ceremony itself, as well as the celebratory banquet, took place in a small hotel outside the City. It was called The Eye of the Storm, and that name was more than appropriate. “The eye of the storm” is an expression which means an area of calm weather at the centre of a hurricane, both literally and figuratively, and so the present celebration seemed a calm moment at the centre of the hurricane of feuds and treachery that was raging in my life, as well as in the lives of the groom, the bride, and all the guests. An attentive visitor would also notice another eye – the motif used in the design of the hotel, from napkin rings to the moulding on the ceiling. To paraphrase the definition provided above, one could say that the eye of the storm is an area at the centre of a hurricane where the world is quiet.

“Snicket, wake up!” called the lady I was dancing with. “Do you want us to bump into someone?”

“Sorry. I got lost in thought. And we wouldn’t have bumped into anyone: you’re the lead.”

“And good thing that I am. For a moment I felt like I was dancing with a coat rack or something like that. You alright?”

“Of course I am, R,” I smiled at my partner who was none other than R, the Duchess of Winnipeg. “How about you?”

“I’m fine, L. You know me,” she smiled back, but I saw it in her eyes that just like me, she couldn’t stop her gaze from drifting to the bride, who was dancing with her beloved in the centre of the ballroom. “It’s been long since I’ve come to terms with the fact that this is how it’s going to end. It’s only that when I used to imagine all of this before, it was you, not Bertrand, and it was easier somehow. But it’s nothing.”

When I first met R, she was yet to become the duchess and the renowned meteorologist and the multiple fencing champion of VFD. Back then she was just the daughter of the previous Duchess of Winnipeg, now deceased; just a little girl who had just got her volunteer’s tattoo and, being confused and a little bit scared, went to explore the infirmary in search of someone who would explain to her where she was, why she was taken away from home, and where her parents were. That evening, she didn’t find the answers to all of her questions, but she found a little boy – me – who, like her, had just been tattooed and didn’t understand what was going on. We were already friends when we met Beatrice, the woman whose wedding we were dancing at today. When we understood that both of us were in love with her, we promised each other that we wouldn’t let that circumstance ruin our friendship. There is an absorbing Gothic novel in which three friends propose to the same girl, and remain friends after she chooses one of them. Similarly, my friend and I both courted Beatrice, leaving it up to her to choose one of us and not expecting that in the end, just like in that novel, there would be three contenders for her heart, and it would be the third one that she would favour. One could only hope that at that point, the similarities with the novel would end, although taking into account Beatrice’s fondness for bats, she would surely be amused by the prospect of being turned into a vampire.

“I do know you, R,” I confirmed. “And that is exactly why I am worried.”

“Oh, come on. If you want to know, today I feel much better than over the last two months combined. Look around, L: even in these trying times we’re surrounded by noble and trustworthy people. My dear friend got married and is happy. I am dancing at her wedding in a wonderful dress and in an excellent company, and who knows,” she winked at me, “perhaps it’s in that excellent company that I’ll meet someone who would help me to let go of the past at last.”

“You will meet – or you have met?” I asked, intrigued. My friend smiled cryptically. “Who is she?”

“Look to your left. See a beautiful girl in a peach dress standing by the window?”

The girl was beautiful indeed. Something about the features of her face seemed familiar to me but I didn’t know her name, which was what I told R.

“Sally Sebald,” she told me, with the same conspiratorial look. “The little sister of Gustav, our Monty’s new… assistant.”

If “our Monty” had heard the way R had spoken the word “assistant”, he would have definitely pretended to be offended to the marrow of his bones. However, at that moment he was busy dancing with that very assistant. The music stopped, and the band bowed in response to the applause, then proceeded to flip through the sheets, selecting the next piece to play.

“I’ll leave you for a while,” R announced. “I must ask her for a dance. Promise me you won’t just stand by yourself ruining everyone’s mood with your long face.”

“I promise. Go for it,” I squeezed her hand, wishing her luck. “And I’ll go grab a bite.”

With that, I made my way to the cold table at the opposite end of the ballroom. “Cold table” is an expression which here means “a buffet-style table with the dishes that the guests are expected to help themselves to” not a table that is cold to touch, although I couldn’t have had any idea if that particular table was cold to touch before I ever touched it. As I was eating mushroom tartlets, I watched the dancers. Here was my brother waltzing with Olivia Caliban, and there was my sister, talking animatedly about something to her partner during the dance – and looking, as I was pleased to notice, like after all the recent troubles and worries she was finally at peace. Some of the guests might have been watching her too and wondering who she was dancing with: Frank or Ernest? That was, of course, the wrong question, while the right question would have been “How many Denouement brothers are there, actually?” I shifted my gaze to R, who was dancing with Gustav’s sister, then to Gustav and Monty and then to Ike and Josephine Anwhistle and so, looking over the dancing couples one by one, I finally met Beatrice’s eyes as she looked at me over her husband’s shoulder. My heart sank. That ballroom was full of people I held in great affection, and still I had to abandon them tomorrow, to flee abroad in order to save myself and everyone who was closely associated with me and could get in the firing line because of that. I didn’t know when I would see all of them again. Just the thought of it made me suffocate with grief.

“Snicket,” someone said. I turned around. There was a woman standing next to me, one that was different from the other guests for two reasons. Firstly, most of the invitees were the same age as the bride and the groom, while this woman was much older. Secondly, I have never met anyone with a hair as thick, long, and unruly, presently already greying. Even if she had tried to arrange it in some sort of a hairdo on the occasion of the party, all the pins and clips clearly were already lost, unable to tame this natural disaster. “Do you mind?”

“An interesting question. For a well-mannered person, there’s only one answer to it,” I observed, “which could be in equal measure correct or incorrect depending on how much…”

“Snicket,” my chaperone interrupted me, annoyed, “I asked because you’re standing by yourself ruining everyone’s mood with your long face. If you’re fine with being in such condition, I can leave you alone.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you, Theodora,” I objected. “Shall I pass you something? The salmon sandwiches are really good.”

“Thank you, I’ve enough for now,” she showed me a full plate. For some time we stood there eating and not saying a word, enjoying the music, the meal, and, to the lesser extent, each other’s company. Finally, Theodora said what she apparently wanted to say from the start.

“I grew wary when I saw you here, quite honestly,” she began. “I knew you were invited, as astonishing as it may be, but I was still surprised you’ve showed up. I’ll admit I feared that at the last moment you’d… pull some trick. I even told Bertrand about it, but he just waved it aside.”

“Well, that just proves the student has surpassed the teacher when it comes to getting other people,” I shrugged. “I suppose you wouldn’t trust me, but I didn’t even think of ruining the ceremony. Believe it or not, I sincerely wish Bertrand and Beatrice nothing but happiness.”

“You’re a peculiar person, Snicket.”

“Am I? I thought I am insufferable and lack respect for my elders.”

“And that, too. It won’t ever cease to amaze me that you and Bertrand hit it off.”

My brain instantly came up with a couple of presumably witty responses concerning how well we hit it off indeed – the champagne might’ve been to blame – but I restrained myself. There were some things she’d better stay unaware of.

“Life is full of surprises,” I observed instead. Theodora looked at me dubiously.

“I’d like to believe you’re telling the truth,” she said. “That you really came here to congratulate them on their marriage, and not to wallow in self-pity or make them doubt they made the right choice. You’re a peculiar person, Snicket, and that is precisely why I feel I really might be right to believe that. Care to ask the old hag for a dance?”

“With pleasure,” I agreed. This conversation was somewhat upsetting me, and it appeared I was already failing to keep the promise I gave R anyway. “May I have this dance, Theodora?”

The look on her face told me she was expecting some other answer, in which I would have pointed out, for instance, that I see no old hags here, but she still gave me her hand, and we went dancing.

***

The celebration ended late into the night. Many kind words were said to the bridal couple, many wonderful songs were sung, and the young Quagmire, evidently inspired by the example of his friend Bertrand, seized the moment to propose to his beloved. Finally the time came for everyone to head home. I was hanging around the hotel lobby and making my adieus to the guests: some of them were waiting for their taxis to arrive while some preferred to make use of the secret tunnel that connected The Eye of the Storm to a number of VFD buildings in the City. I was bidding farewell to my friends: sometimes a handshake, sometimes an embrace, and sometimes simply an exchange of phrases which would’ve seemed nonsensical to the uninitiated. My future appeared to me full of uncertainty and loneliness, and the volunteer’s work kept becoming more and more dangerous with every passing day. If I was destined to never meet my comrades again, then I wanted to remember them precisely the way they were that evening: happy, content, elegantly dressed, and with a newly found confidence that we may still be bound to witness the victory of nobility, valour, and erudition over cunning, avarice, and bad taste.

“We’ll meet you by the road junction at nine,” my brother said, clapping me on the shoulder. He was obviously worried. I didn’t want him to worry about me – I was doing that myself just fine. “Are you sure you don’t want to leave earlier? You could get there in time to catch the…”

“It is highly likely that our enemies have infiltrated the crew of the Prospero. You know that yourself,” I didn’t let him finish. “I’ll take the train. Don’t fret about me, Jacques. Better try to get some sleep. Or…” I cast a sidelong look at Olivia, who was standing nearby and apparently waiting for my brother, “spend the time until morning the way you see fit.”

It was twilight outside The Eye of the Storm, but I had no doubts Jacques blushed.

“You’re taking a lot of risk, L,” he said, displeased. “Are you sure it’s worth it? After all, everything has changed now…”

“I know,” I said. Deep down, I wasn’t sure indeed if it was a good idea. If it was appropriate now, no matter how much we wanted to believe it was. But I couldn’t act differently. Firstly, I had given a promise. Secondly, if I changed my mind, then – who knows – I might miss the last chance to feel happy that I’d get in my life. “I am only sure that if I leave now, I am going to regret it. See you tomorrow, Jacques.”

He frowned but said nothing more and, after hugging me once again, got into the car and left. I headed back to The Eye of the Storm. My brother and Olivia were the last ones to leave; presently the only ones staying at the hotel were the employees and the newlyweds. I sneaked a look into the ballroom and saw them talking about something to the hotel owner. The bride laughed at something and took her groom – her husband – by the hand. I was standing there in the dusk and thinking: what if my brother was right? Wouldn’t it be better for me to leave before it’s too late – just like that, without saying goodbye? I shook my head, chasing these thoughts away as if they were circling me like Snow Gnats, and hurried to the second floor. At the very beginning of the corridor, a bored-looking hall porter was sitting on a chair and cleaning his nails. I approached him.

“Mr. and Mrs. Baudelaire are wondering if the still life with pineapples displayed in the ballroom is for sale,” I said.

The hall porter raised his head to look at me.

“Unfortunately it isn’t. It’s the only thing our owner has to remember his late grandmother by,” he replied, and gave me the key from the luxury suite. There was no further conversation between us; I took the key and headed to the suite.

I entered the room, closed the door behind me, and looked around. As it is commonly known, luxury accommodations differ from the regular hotel rooms in the number of amenities and the refinement of the furnishings. In the present case, one of the indisputable advantages of this suite in comparison to the other rooms was a bookcase with a great number of books on its shelves. I looked over the room, checking, among other things, the presence of weapons and fire extinguishing tools hidden under the bed in the event of the enemies of the bridal couple finding out where the wedding was taking place and deciding to pay a visit. Then I took a collection of poems by Oscar Wilde from one of the shelves and immersed myself in reading, hoping for once I wouldn’t get much time for that.

Indeed, I didn’t have to wait for long. There was the sound of steps and voices, and the just married burst into the room – it struck my eye that they were still holding hands. They didn’t notice me because as soon as Mr. Baudelaire shut the door behind him, Mrs. Baudelaire pinned him against that very door and kissed him. Since she threw off her high-heeled shoes the moment she ran into the room, she had to stand on tiptoe to kiss him, which looked absolutely adorable.

I watched those two who had clearly forgotten at that moment about the world around. Without a doubt, the Baudelaires were a beautiful couple. Beatrice was lovely even wearing an old tracksuit covered in dirt after the annual orienteering competition held in the city sewers – presently, in a white and golden wedding dress, she looked like an angel. Bertrand, handsome and well-built, looked dapper in a cream-coloured suit with a tea rose on the lapel. I was feasting my eyes on the both of them, all the while racked by doubts as to whether I’d better withdraw through the window before they noticed me. I even started to reflect on how wide the windowsills of The Eye of the Storm were, but then the Baudelaire spouses pulled away from each other and finally realized they were not alone in the room. My presence did not surprise them in the slightest.

“You’re here,” Beatrice said, and her face lit up with such joy that I shook all the thoughts about the windowsills out of my head.

I put the book back on the shelf.

“I asked the hall porter about the painting with pineapples,” I said. “It is not for sale.”

“What a pity,” Beatrice replied merrily, ran up to me, and kissed me on the lips.

I was not destined to tie the knot and start a family. When I was engaged to Beatrice, I tried to ignore the thought of it but it was always with me, in some hidden corner of my mind. It was there when Beatrice accepted my proposal and in the early days of our relationship and when I was twelve years old and Theodora was telling me that her previous apprentice, the same young man who was half-smiling now as he watched me kiss his wife, would become a husband and a father, while all that awaited me was loneliness. I was not destined to find the happiness harped on about by writers and telenovela characters and the designers of those advertisement posters that featured parents and two children, always a boy and a girl, carelessly consuming cereals or ice cream. But I knew happiness of another kind, and while the creators of cereal advertisements would hardly be able to appreciate it, I suspected that some writers could have understood me. I was kissing the woman that wasn’t mine in the eyes of the law and the society yet still was mine as much as I was hers – that is to say, with all her heart and all her soul – and I was happy. That was more than enough.

Beatrice pulled away from my lips.

“I was mad the whole evening I couldn’t just come up to you for no special reason,” she told me. “Couldn’t dance with you, not even once.”

“It is important that as many people as possible are sure we’re not together anymore,” I reminded her. “You have plenty of your own enemies, Beatrice. You shouldn’t have to deal with mine to boot.”

“I refuse to believe that any single one of the people who were here today…” she started, but stopped short. Perhaps she remembered how fragile the bonds of friendship can be, and in how much danger they can be put both by ambition and the sense of duty. Perhaps she remembered about the family whose manor she used to visit as a child and about a night at the opera and the poison darts; about the articles in The Daily Punctilio and the stolen sugar bowl. I pulled her close. I didn’t want her to think about those things on the day of her wedding.

Bertrand coughed. I met his eyes, and felt Beatrice softly push me away. It occurred to me that kissing the wife right in front of her husband’s eyes is extremely improper, so when he approached me I decided to atone for my behaviour, and kissed him too. If Beatrice always kissed with all the fervour of the woman who could fight off a giant eagle with her bare hands, then Bertrand always did it with all the thoroughness of the man who enters a lions’ cage without fear because he has studied their habits in all detail and thought out all the actions required in case the situation gets out of control. I didn’t see Beatrice’s face the moment my lips touched Bertrand’s, but I knew she was smiling.

I ran my hand over his chest and felt for the tea rose.

“Been wondering all evening if it’s natural or not,” I said. My head was spinning. I still hadn’t fully got used to the effect these two had upon me, and this might have been our last night together.

“Artificial,” Bertrand said, took the flower out of the buttonhole, and put it into my pocket. “Take it. As a keepsake of this day.”

“Thank you,” I said. As I was looking at him, I hoped yet again that if Beatrice’s children (who were bound to be born one day: she’s always wanted to become a mother) take after their father, they’ll inherit Bertrand’s features, not mine. I wouldn’t mind to pass on the colour of my eyes or my hair, but certainly not my innate tendency to corpulence that created certain inconveniences when it was necessary, for instance, to exit the building through the basement window. As to Bertrand, he was outrageously good-looking from head to toe – I remembered vividly how it used to annoy me back when I had just met him. I used to be itching to hit him even though he never actually provoked me in any way. I didn’t want to admit for a long time that what was hiding behind that was simply the longing to touch him. “But I think that can wait. I am not leaving yet, after all.”

“Will you stay till morning?” Beatrice asked hopefully.

“I am to meet Jacques and Kit by the road junction a mile from The Eye of the Storm at nine o’clock. They’ll take me to the railway station – not the nearest one, but the one after – where I shall board the train at nine twenty-nine.”

“It’s five minutes to two now,” Bertrand observed, glancing at his wristwatch.

“About seven hours,” Beatrice said, taking a step towards Bertrand and me, and put her hand on my cheek. “Almost the whole night.”

“Your wedding night, by the way,” I reminded. “Are you sure that…”

“Lemony Snicket,” she interrupted me petulantly, and slapped me on the lips lightly with the tips of her fingers, “yes, we are sure, we’ve discussed all that more than once, we told you the password that got you the key to our room for a reason. If the world was simpler and quieter, you would’ve been getting married today as well. Consider this as your wedding night too. And before you’ve managed to make some other silly statement: yes, we’ve discussed that as well.”

I looked at Bertrand. He nodded without thinking twice.

“The fact that Beatrice and I are married now doesn’t change a thing,” he said. “Remember that when you return to the City. You will return one day, won’t you, Snicket?”

I was about to answer honestly, “I don’t know”, but I just couldn’t.

“I’ll try to,” I said. That was also true. I would have given anything not to leave the people I loved more than anything else in the world, but since I had no other choice, all that was left to me was to make every effort to come back to them sooner or later.

“All right,” Beatrice said. “All right,” she repeated, and it seemed to me I saw tears glisten in her eyes and I felt scared. She stopped me with a motion of her hand before I could say anything to her. “We’ll talk about that later. Are you feeling sleepy?”

“Are you suggesting I go to sleep, Beatrice?”

“I suggest you accept that you’ll only get to sleep on the train.”

With that she pushed me to the bed – a large bed, the kind that three people would fit on with ease. Beatrice moved towards me and I moved back until I fell on my back right on the blanket. Beatrice lifted her skirt a little and climbed first onto the bed, and then on top of me.

“Careful, Snicket,” Bertrand said as he noticed that my hands slid under her skirt. He sat on the bed and bent over me. “She’s got a dagger in her garter. Sheathed, of course, but you never know.”

I grabbed the tip of his necktie and pulled him closer.

“How interesting,” I said. Beatrice was straddling me, rising a little and then pressing herself to me again, and I was moving towards her in sync. “Do you also have anything hidden underneath your clothes, Mr. Baudelaire?”

“See for yourself,” Bertrand offered, and kissed me.

The storm was raging outside the hotel, yet only figuratively. Clouds were gathering over all the fearless and well-read people who have dedicated their lives to science, literature, and keeping the world quiet. But I and those two that I loved were in the eye of the storm: literally, because that was the name of the hotel, and figuratively, because that night we weren’t thinking about the schemes of our enemies and the everyday dangers that befell our friends. I was happy in a way the one whose beloved has just married someone else rarely is, and here, in the eye of the storm, nothing could take that happiness from me – at least not until the morning.

#asoue #a series of unfortunate events #lemony snicket #beatrice baudelaire #bertrand baudelaire #duchess of winnipeg #s. theodora markson #jacques snicket #lemonberry ice #beatrice x r #snicketverse #my fic #gella talks snicketverse #tbh i really didn't even try to fit it into canon timeline #i just wanted to write some light-hearted self-indulgent ot3 fic and i went for it

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