#so hey they may have spent 20 minutes straight gasping for their lives but at least their moral was doing absolutely lovely the whole time

[arolesbianism]

I had the most stressful 30 minutes of my life today while playing oni ohhhh my god remind me to never underprepare for a rocket trip again

[multi-fandom-freak0221]

You Killed Me, but I Survived and Now I'm Coming Alive

Hey guys. It's been a minute. My job have been kicking my ass. I quit one of them a few months back cause 16-18 hour days were kicking my ass. But my dad died of Covid 1/20/21, on my older sisters birthday and month before my 20th birthday. I am half a country away from him and I won't be going to see the rest of them, but I do have 3 paid days bereavement and while I'm trying to distract myself I decided to try and finish this part. Your feedback motivates me so much. This part was the part I've been waiting for. The whole reason I created this fic. Like for real I had like maybe one sentence summaries planned for the other two parts in my head but this part played out like a full movie in my head down to the last details. This one will probably be the longest. It also has like 3 songs in it because it's the concert/gala scene hopefully I'll be able to cut it down some because i won't need descriptions between every lyrics but who knows. C'est la Vie. Anyways this will be the official last part, but I do already have one for sure bonus planned and a possible bonus that I might do if enough people want it.

This part's title is from "Miss Moving On" by Fifth Harmony. And this part includes the songs "Sorry (I'm not Sorry)" by Demi Lovato, "Home" by Philip Phillips, and "Symphony" by Clean Bandit ft . (Which for me is like a fucking poly anthem. I'm mean a symphony is a perfect metaphor for a healthy poly relationship! I mean it is a lovely way of asking to join into a poly group! Anywho I'm ranting and projecting. Ignore me.)

This is Part 3 of my fic based on @maiisdaddy 's Love of Three.

Tagging list:

@thestressmademedoit @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @lizziejay @indecisive-mess-named-me @captainmac6 @luveverything12 @kris-pines04 @brokenwordsarehard2 @roselynfey @mewwitch @stainedglassm

Part 1 Part 2

Marinette was ecstatic. She was extremely proud of all that she had accomplished in the 6 or 7 seven months since she left Damian. She became a singing sensation and recorded a whole album that would be releasing soon. She spent time healing and hanging out with her friends and pseudo family. Hell she even created outfits for herself and all her friends for the album release/identity reveal gala her Uncle Tony decided to throw for. Not that other guest knew that what this gala was for. Uncle Tony had picked the next closest international holiday and claimed it was a charity gala in honor of said holiday. While he may mot have been being entirely truthful there is never a bad reason to give to charity so she wasn't going to dwell on it.

She could truly say she totally over Damian. She even had Adrien take the ring back to her old apartment for her. She was not worried about him anymore. She had more important matters to attend to. Like the 3 boys who stole her heart while helping her piece it back together. Which she would say was great timing because she was sure Bruce Wayne would be at this gala. She guesses it was some kind of billionaire/millionaire code to never miss a charity event hosted by a fellow billionaires/millionaires.

Either way it was for the best because as soon as Uncle Tony had suggested a gala to reveal at, she had Uncle Jagged help her with two songs that she kept secret from everyone. One to show her appreciate for all her family and friend's support for her and one to confess to the 3 boys who loved her when she felt unlovable. She was going to preform these song for her friends in front of a lot of influential people but she wasn't even nervous. Not even when Alix told her that the gala was to be live streamed. No she was just excited and happy to let her friends know how she was feeling.

The gala was in full swing. All the guests who were coming were already there by the time Marinette and everyone else she came with arrived. She was talking with Chloe, Kagami, and Alix when she decided to grab herself a drink. She was walking to the refreshments table when accidentally bumped in someone's back slightly. "Oh! I'm sorry, sir."

The man then turned around to reveal to be Bruce Wayne himself. "Marinette! I'm surprised to see you. Damian said you were feeling too sick to attend."

Marinette wanted to scowl, but she managed keep her face neutral. She knew there were reporters swarming here and she did not want to make a spectacle. "I'm sure he did. Now if you'll excuse me, Mr. Wayne I was on my way to get a drink." She didn't even get a chance to leave Bruce in confusion from her statement. No sooner than she took a step to leave did Dick walk up to her.

Dick smiled at her as he greeted her kindly. "Sunshine! It's been a while. I thought Damian said you were under the weather?" As he moved in to hug her she sidestepped out of his reach.

Once upon a time she loved Dick's hugs, but now it would just feel fake. "I'm sure your brother has said many thing about my lack of attendance to many social gatherings. Unfortunately those claims were false as Damian has not been privy to my whereabouts in months. Now if you please excuse me."

She went to walk away again, but she guesses Dick's interference was enough time for Bruce get over his shock because he blocked her path again. "What are you talking about Marinette?" Marinette resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Mr. Wayne it has been nice talking with you but this really is a conversation for another time." Marinette sighs. She was trying to be civil. She was sure there were reporters everywhere waiting for the big scoop. She wanted that to be her reveal not her past relationship with an asshole. "Besides this is probably something you'd need to talk to Damian about."

"Talk to me, about what?" There is no God, she was convinced. The sigh that left her mouth was long and full of suffering as she turned around with a clearly fake smile. Facing her now was Damian himself with Tim and Jason behind him. Damian was clearly extremely shocked to she her, but he played it off quickly. "Angel I thought you weren't feeling well. Why didn't you tell me you changed your mind? You could have came with us."

Marinette ducked out of Damian's reach, barely restraining from stomping on his foot with her heels, as he tried to kiss her. "Do not call me Angel. And don't you dare even try to kiss me, Wayne."

Before Marinette could lose her temper anymore Luka came and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Everything okay, Melody?" Marinette took some calming breaths as she attempted to regain her composure.

While she was trying to calm down, it seemed the Wayne family was getting worked up. "And who is this, Marinette?" Bruce asked accusingly.

Marinette looked at the family in front of her in disbelief. "You all met Luka. He's my best friend. Signed under Jagged. In a committed relationship with two of my other best friends, Kagami and Adrien." She shook her head as the all held sheepish expression for assuming the worst. "Not that who I'm with is any of your business anyways."

Before any of them could question to her statement, Felix comes to her other side and whispers into her ear. "Do you want me to call security?" She didn't even get a chance to respond before she heard Dick gasp, scandalized.

"Marinette!! Are you cheating on Damian?" Dick exclaimed. At this point Marinette knew they were drawing a crowd she was trying to keep everyone's dignity intact, even though her reputation wasn't the one at stake.

"Mr. Wayne I once again implore you that we have this conversation in a more private setting." Marinette spoke calmly, but through gritted teeth. She was on her nerve.

Bruce crossed his arm and spoke loudly drawing more attention to them. "No. I demand you explain to me at once why you are here with another man when you are supposed to be marrying my son. Was this all some kind of ruse to go after the Wayne Fortune?" Her jaw dropped. She knew it did but she couldn't stop herself from the shock. The sheer audacity of this family before her. She quickly shut her mouth as her eyes narrowed into a deadly glare. Her Ladybug glare. The Wayne family would never admit it but an involuntary shiver went down their spines at the sight of it.

She knew her friends had gathered behind her at this point and see could see the reporters pushing past each other to get the scoop. Vicki Vale was the closest one. In the corner of her eye she saw the camera that was set up for the livestream as well.

Marinette face finally settled on a look mixed with anger and mischief. "Oh? So want to cause a scene, Mr. Wayne? Well how about I put on a show?" She continued to stare Bruce in the eye as she spoke to one of her, "Chloe, can you tell Jagged that I'll be opening with Sorry. The rest of the show will go as planned." Chloe smiled wickedly before going to do asked.

The Wayne family began to smirk when they heard her say sorry, but whatever they began to feel was quickly shut down as she spoke to them again. "Let's get this straight, Mr. Wayne. I am not cheating on Damian and I never once desired to a part of your family's fortune. It was foolish of me to even once want to be a part of your family but I quickly learned better. I would not want to even look at the money that is connected to your family's name if the requirement was to be even cordial with Damian, let alone married to him."

She then towards the crowd the surrounding them. "If everyone would please take their seats facing the stage the show is about to to begin." Without a second thought Marinette headed towards the stage while the rest of her friends took their seats. Some one who was in the staff working tonight led the Wayne family to seats right in front of the stage. Soon everyone was seated and Marinette was standing center stage with a microphone.

Marinette smiled brightly at the crowd. "Thank you all for coming. I'm sure you all know me as Marinette Dupain-Cheng, pseudo niece of Tony Stark and Jagged Stone, and for some of you ex-fiance of Damian, but for others you still current fiance of Damian Wayne. Well I hate to inform that some of you are wrong. Anyways I'm sure your wondering why I'm up here. Well Uncle Tony promised a surprise musical guest so I'd like to reintroduce myself to all of as Neon Titanium! I'm going to be preforming a few songs for you tonight from my new album about to release but before that I decided I should clear the air. Let me start by saying it has been about 7 months since I broke off my engagement to Damian Wanye. While most of you know I chose to kept the reason of said break up private, someone here tonight decided that they were entitled to the reason to being told to them, very publicly. And who am I to deny such a request?" There was a false sincerity to her final sentence that seemed almost menacing.

In the front you can see the paling faces of many of the Wayne men as Tim is on his phone. He finally pulls up Marinette interview that was released prior to Damian announcement. "Damian, what the hell did you do?" Tim voice was barely above a whisper but they all heard it.

Marinette continued on quite content to the situation before her. "Well here's the truth. Damian did the unforgivable. He repeatedly cheated on me while emotionally abusing me and gaslighting me.

"He kept me from seeing everyone I cared about and his own family, claiming it was for my own safety and called me selfish for wanting to leave the apartment he kept me locked in. And while at first he seemed to actually be concerned my wellbeing, over time he stopped caring.

"He became distant, turning back into the Ice Prince you all knew him to be. He would lie about why I wouldn't leave the apartment constantly while still leaving me alone in the apartment constantly. Then he started getting late night calls from "work" to the point I would barely see him. I overheard one of these calls once. I heard him telling who ever was on the other side of the phone that I had no clue and to be waiting for him naked. But I stayed hopeful. I thought I could fix things. But he got worse.

"He was slept with the one person who made it their life goal to take everything from me. Even before I moved to Gotham, this girl hated me and she took all of the people who I thought were my friends and turned them against me. My true friends stayed and knew the truth but it still hurt. And Damien knew this. I told him all about this girl abd how she hurt me. Yet he still slept with her.

"The girl knew I was Damien's fiance. Somehow she got my number and sent me a picture of her in bed with Damian, both of them naked. I'm not going to lie I broke down when I saw that. Before her I could play ignorant and act like I didn't know what he was doing. But this? This was impossible for me to ignore. He cared so little about me that he slept with the one person who do whatever it takes to hurt me. I left that same night with only the things that were mine. Everything I bought came with and everything he bought me stayed. Including the cell phone he bought me when I moved in with him. The only thing that wasn't mine that came with was the engagement ring because I couldn't bring myself to truly accept the truth that it was over yet. I later on had it returned because I remember Mr. Wayne saying it belonged to his mother, though I'm guessing Damian didn't notice."

Marinette saw Bruce whip his head towards Damian who shrunk in on himself.

"Oops. Guess it wasn't noticed indeed. Anyways. For the last 7 months I have been living in Stark Towers with my Uncle Tony, healing with some of my closest friends helping me. And after some convincing working on an album with Luka and my Uncle Jagged. I will preforming a few of those songs for the gala tonight and they will also be live streamed for those who paid for virtual tickets. My album will be released in the next following week." Marinette took a deep breath as she prepared for her first song.

"Originally I planned to open with a different song tonight but after this impromptu info dump, I thought only fair to follow it with the song I wrote dedicated to Damian. I like to call this one Sorry" As Marinette finished the music started playing over the speakers. Soon she was singing passionately.

Now I'm out here looking like revenge

Feelin' like a ten, the best I ever been

And yeah, I know how bad it must hurt to see me like this,

But it gets worse (wait a minute)

She pointed to Damian while rolling her eyes.

Now you're out here looking like regret

Ain't too proud to beg, second chance you'll never get

And yeah, I know how bad it must hurt to see me like this

But it gets worse (wait a minute)

She took the mic off it's stand as she walked along the front of the stage.

Now payback is a bad bitch

And baby, I'm the baddest

You fuckin' with a savage

Can't have this, can't have this (ah)

And it'd be nice of me to take it easy on ya, but nah

Baby, I'm sorry (I'm not sorry)

Baby, I'm sorry (I'm not sorry)

Being so bad got me feelin' so good

Showing you up like I knew that I would

Baby, I'm sorry (I'm not sorry)

Baby, I'm sorry (I'm not sorry)

Feeling inspired 'cause the tables have turned

Yeah, I'm on fire and I know that it burns

Baby, fineness is the way to kill

Marinette gestured to herself from head to toe.

Tell me how it feel, bet it's such a bitter pill

And yeah, I know you thought you had bigger, better things

Bet right now this stings (wait a minute)

'Cause the grass is greener under me

Bright as Technicolor, I can tell that you can see

And yeah, I know how bad it must hurt to see me like this

But it gets worse (wait a minute)

By this point Chloe, Kagami, and Adrien had got up and started dancing along to the song.

Now payback is a bad bitch

And baby, I'm the baddest

You fuckin' with a savage

Can't have this, can't have this (ah)

And it'd be nice of me to take it easy on ya, but nah

Baby, I'm sorry (I'm not sorry)

Baby, I'm sorry (I'm not sorry)

Being so bad got me feelin' so good

Showing you up like I knew that I would

Baby, I'm sorry (I'm not sorry)

Baby, I'm sorry (I'm not sorry)

Feeling inspired 'cause the tables have turned

Yeah, I'm on fire and I know that it burns

Marinette waved to her 3 friends to join on stage for the next part.

Talk that talk, baby

Better walk, better walk that walk, baby

If you talk, if you talk that talk, baby

Everyone was clapping to the beat while Marinette pranced across the stage, except for the Wayne family.

Better walk, better walk that walk, baby

Oh yeah Talk that talk, baby

Better walk, better walk that walk, baby

If you talk, if you talk that talk, baby

Better walk, better walk that walk, baby (oh yeah)

Baby, I'm sorry (I'm not sorry)

Baby, I'm sorry (I'm not sorry)

Being so bad got me feelin' so good

Showing you up like I knew that I would

Baby, I'm sorry (I'm not sorry)

Baby, I'm sorry (I'm not sorry)

Feeling inspired 'cause the tables have turned

Yeah, I'm on fire and I know that it burns

As the song came to a close, there was a roar of applause as her friends went back to her table.

Marinette did a little half bow. "Thank you. Thank you."

She wait till it was quiet again as she returned the mic to the stand. "Now as you can all see I'm doing much better now and I'm happy without him, but if it wasn't for the support system I have I never would have made it to where I am. My parents are in France so in my time of need I turned to my family who was close. My uncles Jagged and Tony, and my aunts Penny and Pepper. They're wonderful and they have always been there for me when I need them. And also my friends, both old and new have stood by me through all of this and helped me come out stronger. So this next song was a surprise gift for them."

Jagged had grabbed an acoustic guitar and was playing her in sitting in the background of her as a projection shined on the wall behind her, showing pictures of her with her friends and her uncles and aunts.

Hold on, to me as we go

As we roll down this unfamiliar road

And although this wave is stringing us along

Just know you're not alone

'Cause I'm going to make this place your home

Settle down, it'll all be clear

Don't pay no mind to the demons

They fill you with fear

The trouble it might drag you down

If you get lost, you can always be found

Just know you're not alone

'Cause I'm going to make this place your home

She took the mic off the stand again as she walk off the stage to her friends and family in the crowd giving the hugs as vocalized along with music.

On the screen was several pictures she found. She put together the slideshow herself. There was a picture of herself crying in the midst of group hug while the people around her comforted. Another was her and all her friends playing in the pool. There was one where they had an impromptu free-for-all dodgeball game and she had won. She was laughing as the guys lifted her into and the girls were all cheering around her.

She made her way back to the stage after the final hug.

Settle down, it'll all be clear

Don't pay no mind to the demons

They fill you with fear

The trouble it might drag you down

If you get lost, you can always be found

Just know you're not alone

'Cause I'm going to make this place your home

She smiled as projector turned off and the crowd applauded again. "Thank you all. But truly thank you to my friends and family for helping and supporting me."

She waited till it was quiet once more before speaking again. "All those who love me have done so much for me, but right now I wanna talk about 3 very special people."

She smiled softly as she looked over to where Peter, Felix, and Jon were sitting. "These 3 boys did so much for me even though they were the ones who knew me the shortest. They've been kind and patient and understanding with me. They all started to love me when I felt my most unlovable. And soon they found a love in each other as well. The best part is even after loving each other they offered to include me in their love as well, whenever I was ready. They gave me their friendship unconditionally no matter what my answer came to be and never rushed me for an answer ever. So Jon, Felix, and Peter this song is for you."

She saw the Wayne family's eyes widen, but she paid them no mind as she started singing.

I've been hearing symphonies

Before all I heard was silence

A rhapsody for you and me

And every melody is timeless

Life was stringing me along

Then you came and you cut me loose

Was solo singing on my own

Now I can't find the key without you

And now your song is on repeat

And I'm dancin' on to your heartbeat

And when you're gone, I feel incomplete

So if you want the truth

I just wanna be part of your symphony

Will you hold me tight and not let go?

Symphony

Like a love song on the radio

Will you hold me tight and not let go?

I'm sorry if it's all too much

Every day you're here, I'm healing

And I was runnin' out of luck

I never thought I'd find this feeling

At this point Marinette had walked down the stage grabbed Jon's hand and led him back to the stage dancing.

'Cause I've been hearing symphonies

Before all I heard was silence

A rhapsody for you and me

(A rhapsody for you and me)

And every melody is timeless

She repeated the process with Felix as Jon danced nervously danced on stage.

And now your song is on repeat

And I'm dancin' on to your heartbeat

And when you're gone, I feel incomplete

So if you want the truth

She left Felix and Jon dancing together as she brought Peter back to the stage with her. She continued to dance with him as she sang.

I just wanna be part of your symphony

Will you hold me tight and not let go?

Symphony

Like a love song on the radio

Will you hold me tight and not let go?

Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah

Ah ah, ah

She smiled as Peter dipped her before bring her back up and handing her off to Felix.

Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah

Ah ah, ah

Felix twirled her, letting her dress flare, as she spun right in to join awaiting arms where he lifted her into the air.

And now your song is on repeat

And I'm dancin' on to your heartbeat

He slowly set her down and she turned until her back is against his chest. His hand are on hips as they sway gently.

And when you're gone, I feel incomplete

So if you want the truth

Peter and Felix were mimicking her position with Jon in front of her and she put an arm around Peter's neck while the other still held the microphone.

(Oh, oh, oh)

I just wanna be part of your symphony

Will you hold me tight and not let go?

Symphony

Like a love song on the radio

Symphony

Will you hold me tight and not let go?

Symphony

Like a love song on the radio

Will you hold me tight and not let go?

This time as she finished singing the crowd was silent as she looked at the 3 boys who held her heart. "Jon. Felix. Peter. You guys are some of the best people to ever walk into my life. I want nothing more than to be with you 3. So if you are still willing, will you do me the honor of calling me your girlfriend?"

She looked hopeful as the silence filled her ears. It felt like hours, even though it was definitely seconds, before she heard them all say yes.

Cheers erupted as Peter kissed her and Jon and Felix kissed each other over the former two's heads. She then turned kissed Jon as Peter kissed Felix, before kissing Felix as Jon kissed Peter. She grinning wildly when the all finally pulled away from each other.

She raised the mic to her lips as she closed out. "Thank you all for being here for my reveal/debut! I got one more song that I'll be preforming at the end of the gala, so y'all have fun and mingle. Once again, this is Marinette Dupain-Cheng aka Neon Titanium, I'm glad you enjoyed the show!"

She winked at Bruce on her last word as she walked off the stage with the loves of her life to where her family and friends were waiting for her.

Her and her boys (and Kwami does she love that -Her boys) were in the midst of getting congratulations when she heard someone clear their throat behind her. Bruce Wayne stood as tall as ever though he refused to meet any of her group's eyes.

"Ms. Dupain-Cheng, I apologize for my early behavior tonight, I was missing the whole story." He voice was steady but some shame shone through. His boys were behind him all of them also looking sheepish except Damian who was glaring at her new loves Jon in particular.

Marinette rolled her eyes. "You know as well as I do that the media are sharks, and events like these are a feeding frenzy for them. I tried my hardest to keep all of our reputations intact tonight, a lot harder than I should have since I had nothing to hide since I was the victim here. Yet, you in no regards of the truth, attempted to smear me with no hesitation. Personally the rest of you did nothing to me so I had no ill will towards you, but you forced my hand. The results of today are direct consequences of your own actions."

Before anyone else could speak up Damian did. "Kent," He nearly growled. "Why didn't you inform me as soon as you knew she was gone. As my best friend you should have informed me immediately!"

Jon answered lowly in a dark tone no had ever heard him use before. "My father tried to warn you father, Wayne, but when questioned you just dug your own grave deeper. Besides as my father explained to me it is not our job to make sure you two are aware of the going ons of your own household. Also you lost the right to be my best friend when you decided to be so cruel to the person you were supposed to love and then lie when confronted about it."

Marinette scoffed. "I figured when you finally noticed I was gone you'd assume I was off throwing a temper tantrum in hiding somewhere and that I'd come back. The fact that you weren't even worried about me in all that time I was missing is really telling."

Bruce glared Damian down from respond as his brothers held him back. "I just have one more question before we rightfully leave you alone. You said you had the ring return? Where could it possibly be?"

Marinette shrugged. "I had Adrien return it a couple months ago. Damian was fucking some girl in his apartment when Adrien walked in and he didn't even notice him set it on the dresser. I believe heard on the grapevine someone named Lila is claim she's Damian's true love and he had to keep up our engagement for appearances. She also claimed he proposed to her with a Wayne family heirloom until he get away from me. I guess maybe next time Damian should pay better attention to his house guests." She giggled sarcastically afterwards.

Bruce frowned as he nodded. "I see. I'll leave you all alone now. Have a wonderful evening, and congratulations." As he led his family away Marinette could hear whispered yelling but could make out a few phrases like "PR Nightmare", "priceless heirloom", "huge mistake", and even "major fuck up".

As soon as they were out of hearing range Marinette started laughing, causing everyone around her to laugh too. She finally calmed down eventually but her large smile never went away. This is the happiest and the most free she's felt in the long time.

[stellarrmoon]

Before I die, I'm tryna fuck you, baby

Pairing: Bokuto Koutaro × fem!reader

Genre: Smut

Honorary Mention: name??? kink

Status: unedited

You were at a volleyball tournament that your cousin was playing at. You had to support him since you hadn't seen him in a year or so and his team was playing against the nationally known Fukurodani volleyball team. The actual game hadn't started yet but you were there early because you wanted to cheer him up before he had to go play.

"You're gonna do amazing, cuz. I believe in you!"

Your aunt's eldest son looked down at you with a smile, embracing you in a hug of gratitude. "Thanks, y/n. I hope we win but if we lose then we'll lose with dignity. The country's 4th top ace is in their team after all."

"Wait really? That's insane. I wonder what he looks like."

You didn't know that that curiosity of yours would be solved in the next 5 minutes. When it was time to go to the stands, you bumped into a quite beefy (in your words) person's chest and judging by the number 4 on the front of his shirt, you guessed that he was on one of the teams in the tournament.

"Hey, hey, hey, be careful, pretty lady." He had a pretty playful voice and you looked up to see a smirk on his handsome face.

"Oh. Excuse me, sir." You bowed your head and walked on when he stepped aside for you. But you couldn't help but look behind you as you continued your journey and the grey and black back of his head stayed in your mind the whole walk to the stands.

Once you got there, you saw that the teams were already on the court, in their huddles, getting themselves fired up for the match. People were cheering all around you for their respective teams and you called out your cousin's name in support. He looked up and found you instantly, putting a thumbs up in the air.

The Fukurodani team did a small warcry before dispersing to their positions and when you saw who their wing spiker was, your jaw dropped. The smirk that was on his face was a bit different that the one you saw earlier and as soon as the whistle blew, you figured out why.

The match was intense and while you were meant to be looking at your cousin, your eyes were stuck on the wing spiker, who you realised was the 4th ranked ace your cousin was talking about. He flew and slammed each and every ball that was set to him and after each spike, he let out a cry of victory. You thought it was quite attractive, seeing how fired up he got but at the end of the match, your heart broke a little for your cousin seeing how they were beaten 2 sets to 1.

"I'm so sorry, cuz, you'll get them next time."

You spent the next 20 minutes cheering him up and catching up with him before his team had to leave for their next match. Before you knew it, the tournament was over and you bid your cousin adieu as their team bus left for their home school.

"Was that your boyfriend, pretty lady?"

You gasped when a sudden presence appeared beside you. It was the beefy dude. Aka the wing spiker, ace and captain of Fukurodani. "Wow, when did you get here?"

"I've been watching since the other team entered the bus. Wanna answer my question?"

You shifted your position to face him and damn, you could've swooned right there. His nose bridge was perfectly straight and the only curve was the upturn between his nostrils. His lips were a luscious baby pink and his eyes a golden brown. Coupled with his confident aura, this man was hot.

"Enjoying the view? I don't blame you."

You smiled in amusement, "If you must know, that wasn't my boyfriend, that was my cousin."

"Oh, well that's good news for me."

"And may I ask why?"

He looked you up and down before biting his lip and saying, "That means you're free to take."

You couldn't help but get embarrassed at his statement and suddenly, you wondered why you hadn't called a taxi yet. "You're very... confident with your words sir."

"It's my specialty." He smirked again but this time, it was a bit lazy, which made him seem more attractive to you. "Are you waiting for someone?"

You got out your phone and started to call a local cab agency, "No, I've got to order a cab."

Unexpectedly, he gently took the phone from your hands and ended the call just as the number had answered. "Don't worry about it, sweetheart. I've got a car."

Even though you had just met this guy, you decided to accept his offer. He told you that his name was Bokuto Koutarou, which had a nice ring to it once you got used to the pronunciation. You told him your address and before you knew it, you were back home. "Hey, I didn't even give you directions."

"Well, sweetheart, that's because I live right next door to you." He said it so casually as if it was a mystery why you hadn't met each other till then.

"What?! Since when?"

"We moved in last month but since I'm always having practice, I usually come back home later than everyone else in the neighbourhood. Anyways, it was nice meeting you, pretty lady. I'll be sure to see you again."

You exited his car and walked to your porch chuckling at the odds. You had a feeling there was more to happen than you thought.

Weeks went by and it turned out that your room was directly across Bokuto's, which meant that you could wave to each other through your windows every morning when you got ready. He'd be wearing his uniform to go to his school and so would you when you saw each other before leaving.

He didn't take his car though, which meant that you couldn't get any more car rides from him. But it was probably for the best since you couldn't stop having dirty thoughts about him. It's how your day would start, seeing as you imagined having his school tie wrapped around your neck while he pulled you towards his face so you could-

See?

Sometimes you would have conversations through your windows but they were often short seeing as you were both in your final year and had to study for the last exams and for some reason, everytime he cut your chats short to go back to the books, it made your heart pound.

But it wasn't to say that it wasn't the same for him. Seeing you in that short, plaid skirt did something to him and he didn't particularly enjoy having a boner while going to Fukurodani High.

One day, he came back home early since there wasn't any practice and saw you changing through your window. Well, not exactly, but he could see your silhouette through your thin curtains and my, my, did he not almost drool.

You took off your shirt first and threw it on your chair, then your skirt came off next. The curve of your spine blended perfectly with the rounded shape of your butt and he subconsciously bit his lip while his eyes stayed glued to your form. He guessed that you were now only in your underwear and the thigh high socks you had to wear and his pants immediately felt tighter at the image. "Fuck."

Before you continued to take anything else off, he turned away and went to go have a cold shower. Deep down, he was nervous wreck. The confidence was natural to him but when it came to you... it seemed that it was wearing thin.

Only a few days went by and Bokuto caught you every time after school when you were changing. He felt like a pervert for using the short scene to masturbate every single night.

That saturday, your mother asked you to go take over some muffins to the house next door, because she had met the parents of the home earlier that week. You were fine with it until you realised that it was the Bokuto Residence and you would see... him.

Softly, you knocked on the door and unbeknownst to you, a shirtless Bokuto Koutarou answered the door. Both your eyes widened, his with shock and yours with embarrassment. He was sweating and you watched as a few drops travelled down his hard chest, six-pack abs and into his shorts via his very prominent v-line. "Woah..."

"Hey, hey, hey. Nice to see you in front of me again, pretty lady."

He propped his elbow on the side of the door so you could see his laterals and biceps become more prominent and you felt yourself swallow. "Uh- my, uh- mom. Cupcakes. Bring over. I–"

He took the container from you and opened it, while raising an eyebrow. Inside were red velvet cupcakes, with white, cream icing on top and they looled good so he took one. One bite in, he closed his eyes and moaned, "Mmm, sweetheart, that's delicious."

When he opened his eyes, they were lazier as he licked the icing on his lip off. "T-thanks. I'll tell her that..."

You left immediately after that and as soon as you entered your room, jumped onto your bed and screamed into the pillow. Even Bokuto heard it from his kitchen while finished his 3rd cupcake and he furrowed his eyebrows.

You couldn't believe you saw him like that. He looked so... hot. His black and white hair was drenched in sweat and instead of classically being styled up, it fell over his forehead. Not to mention his amazing body and the... the veins that disappeared into his shorts.

"What the hell? What just happened?"

You stared at the ceiling for longer than you thougt and before you knew it, it was nighttime. Looking over to Bokuto's window, you saw that it wasn't covered by curtains. His bedroom door opened and he plopped onto his bed without noticing you. You were about to greet when he flopped onto his back and suddenly, his dick sprung up in the air.

What. The. Fuck?

You were frozen in astonishment and it was worse when you saw his hand start to slowly move up and down his shaft. He was moaning softly from the little you could hear through the open window and before you knew it, he was thrusting into his hand. He seemed so desperate trying to catch his high that you clenched your thighs as you felt yourself get wet.

"Mm, fuck, Y/N!"

And he exploded. You saw his cum shoot up into the air before it landed somewhere, you didn't know the exact place but, as soon as it happened, you closed your curtains and went to your shower.

Bokuto heard the noise but when he looked back, nothing was out of the ordinary. Except... his window. Wide open. "Shit."

When you were done with your (cold) shower, you saw a text from Bokuto that read:

Bokuto Koutarou: Hey, did you hear anything weird today?

You: what do you mean?

Bokuto Koutarou: like... from my house.

You contemplated your answer before responding.

You: nope.

He left the message on read and let out a huge sigh of relief. Thank God you didn't hear him or else he would've buried himself alive.

Both of you went to sleep feeling weird that night; none of you knew of the rest to come.

On Sunday, you were home alone and suddenly remembered that your mom asked you to fetch your container from the Bokutos before she left on a business trip. "Oh shit!"

You went over immediately, without thinking of what you were wearing and knocked. Luckily, Mrs Bokuto answered the door but she looked as if she was leaving. "Hi Mrs Bokuto. May I please fetch my mom's container?"

"Oh, of course, darling. Me and my husband are going away on holiday for the week and we have to leave for the airport now so help yourself, please? It's on the counter. The kitchen is to the right."

With that, she exited her house and her husband followed with two suitcases on either of his hands. He smiled in acknowledgement and without any more time to waste, their white Lexus sped off.

Like she said, you helped yourself in and went to the said kitchen. You were glad it was easy to spot the container because it really was on the counter. But what you didn't particularly enjoy was freezing when you heard a familiar voice speaking to you.

"Hey, hey, hey, pretty lady. Any reason why you're in my house?"

You turned and saw Bokuto Koutarou leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Thankfully he was dressed today. "Bokuto. Hi. I'm here to fetch my mom's container."

"Oh. And here I thought you were here to visit me."

You smiled sheepishly and started moving forward, container in hand. As you were about to exit the room, he moved in front of you, arms still crossed.

"Um..." you stepped to the side but he followed you. "Can I get passed?"

"No."

"Wh-"

"You can't get passed. I'm tired of playing your games, pretty lady."

"Bokuto-"

"Koutarou. Call me by my name."

For some reason, his hostile behaviour was making you... horny? The way he crossed his arms so his jacket stuck to his muscles like a second skin; the way his jaw was locked as he looked down on you with his golden eyes. The way he towered over you with his legs apart, his stance mimicking that of a predator about to catch its prey.

"Go on. Say it."

You hesitated and stammered. Instead of you usual strong voice, his name came out as a defeated whisper, "Koutarou..."

He took the container in your hands and threw it into the counter so that it banged against the wall between the cupboards and the former. You flinched at the loud sound, but impressed with how good his aim was. He took steps forward which made you step back in turn. This continued until your back hit the island in the middle of the kitchen and you had nowhere else to go. "You know what I'm talking about right?"

It sounded more like a statement than a question. "No..." You had a feeling that:

"I know, y/n. I know you saw."

"Saw what?" You didn't know why you were still acting clueless because it didn't seem to be working. But what made you finally succumb to his interrogation was when he forced his knee between your thighs and pressed his body against yours.

It was hot. Or was it you? Maybe him? You couldn't think straight with his cologne engulfing you. "Mmm... just like you to get sll flustered. You know how cute you look when that happens? Now I'm going to give you one more chance to admit to your actions."

"I... I did see." You sighed.

"Mhm. Tell me what you saw, pretty lady."

You closed your eyes and went limp, "I saw you cum. When you said my name."

He grabbed your thighs and lifted you so you could sit on the counter of the island, situating himself between your legs. "And did you enjoy that, princess?"

"I don't know."

He squeezed your waist.

"I think you're lying." He moved his head so that his lips were by your ear. "You know what I hate? It's how you don't know how sexy you are to me. Look at you." He was speaking so lowly and slowly that you were hooked on his every word– it was making your pussy quiver. "You think you can come into my house wearing that thin fucking sundress?"

Suddenly, his other hand moved under your dress, caressing your thigh and stopped at the apex where he rubbed his thumb back and forth on the soft skin.

"You don't even have any panties on." You could feel his smirk against your ear. "It's like you knew you were going to see me."

He pulled back and you could breathe again. He walked away, his large back moving further and further away from you as he stopped his antics. "Bokut- Koutarou, wait!"

He stopped and craned his head. He had such a beautiful side profile.

"I did see. And... I liked it. I liked it a lot. In fact, I've fantasized about you so many times since we met and I can't take it anymore."

"So what am I supposed to do about that, sweetheart?"

"Bokuto Koutarou... please fuck me."

It sounded like a plea for help and honestly, it was all he needed to unleash himself. The next few moments were a blur for you because you went from being on the island to being in Koutarou's bed, watching him strip down to nothing without shame.

"Koutarou." You breathed when you saw his dick – it looked even bigger than before. Was that going to fit inside you?

"I'll make it fit, princess." He grinned and beckoned you over to him at the edge of the bed.

You crawled on all fours, feeling your dress ride up over your ass and it was met with cold air. So now you were face to cock with Bokuto Koutarou and it looked like you were about to know the true meaning of choking.

"You're staring at it like you want it in your mouth." He caressed your cheek and let his thumb run along your bottom lip, pulling it down before releasing it. His strong hand grabbed a hold of his hard shaft and you felt a sudden slap against your face. "Is that what you want, princess?"

He slapped you with his dick. Due to the size of it, it was a bit painful but instead of feeling offended, you felt your wetness drip down your thighs. It was still in his hand, but this time, when he moved it, he placed the tip against your lips.

"Hm? You want this cock down your throat?"

You were looking up at him with your pretty brown eyes that looked like they were tearing up and it turned him on to no end.

He leaned over and to your surprise, swiped his hand across your slit from behind, collecting a sticky puddle of your wetness in his hand and placing it on his dick. Your eyes widened as he coated his shaft with it while your lips were still on his tip. "I'm gonna need you to be a good girl for me and take my cock well, okay?"

You nodded without hesitation and finally, you opened your mouth. In went his dick and you gagged immediately at the shear size as it touched the back of your throat. It was already slippery due to the coat of your juices but one thing was prominent.

"Can you taste yourself on my cock, baby? Hm? Do you like it? The way you're slobbered all over my dick?"

You couldn't do anything except blow him. Your cheeks hollowed out as you took him in and out, and in and out. Eventually he had his head thrown back and he was moaning out every other word like "baby", "fuck", and "you're killing me, princess".

It was another 5 minutes before he had enough and he pushed you onto your back, spread your legs as wide as they could and dived into your cunt. "Fuck, Bokuto!"

He slapped your thigh hardly which led you to yelp, making you wonder what you did to deserve it. "I told you to call me by my name."

You understood him perfectly. But the way his tongue moved against your clit didn't warrant any say of his name, or any word, even. All you sounded like was "Mmm" and "yes" and "please"; it was music to his ears. He coupled his tongue movements with two fingers inside you. You were tight around them so that he could barely separate them but the way he curled them towards himself hit a spot you didn't know you had. "Ohhhh my God, Koutarou."

"That's right, say my name, princess." He growled against your clit. He started getting more aggressive as time went on and eventually, he started hitting you on your abdomen, your thighs, and even your clit. Your nipples were straining against your dress as you arched your back, feeling a particular knot get tighter and tighter.

"Koutarou, I'm going to-"

"Do it, baby. Cum on my face."

He sucked and fucked until you did as he said, hips locking as lapped his tongue along your slit while you rode out your orgasm. Your legs were trembling by the end of it but he didn't feel like giving you a break.

"I'm going to fuck you so good, princess." He said as he climbed over you, kissing you deeply and letting you taste yourself on his lips. His tongue entered excitedly and he moaned into your mouth. Your dress was long gone now seeing as he ripped it straight down the middle.

Your chests were pressed together so your boobs were against his pecs and it felt so good to you that you let out a small mewl. While he planted kisses and bites down your neck, you caught your breath and looked up to the ceiling to see... a mirror. There was a mirror on the ceiling and that meant you could see everything that was happening.

Your worn out face. Koutarou's back muscles rippling as he paid attention to your chest and neck; his ass that you could imagine gripping onto as he thrusted hard into you.

He stopped what he was doing and looked into your eyes, "Are you ready?"

"For what?- Ohhhhh." You looked at your own face through the mirror above as he slowly pushed himself in. The stretch of your cunt felt so good that it hurt and you couldn't help but cry. "Fuck, Koutarou."

"Say it again." He started thrusting, "Say my name again."

"Koutarouuuu." You droned out.

His hips moved relentlessly. It seemed that he was waiting for this for a long time and now you understood why. It felt so good. "I fit so perfectly inside you, princess."

As his dick slipped in again, he hit the spot from earlier except, it felt so much more intense. "Yes, Koutarou, do it again."

And so he did. He was moaning along with you, whispering dirty words into your ear and the deeper he went inside you, the closer you were to cumming. You pushed his shoulders up so that you could see his face and as soon as you made eye contact, he smiled. It was so devilish and hedonistic and it fit him perfectly.

He bit his lip as he looked down to see yourselves colliding. In, out. In, out. That's what his dick was doing. In and out of your squelching pussy and so easily, that he could've sworn that your hole was made for him. "Koutarou, I'm going to cum again."

"That's a good girl. Do it for me, princess. Cum on my cock."

He went back to thrusting deeply and languidly and as you watched his big form move above you, you went over the edge creamed with him inside you. "Oh yes, oh yes, Koutarou, I love it."

"You love it?" He asked as he pumped through your climax.

"Yes, baby, I do. Give it to me, more, please, Koutarou."

He groaned, "I love it when you say my name. Can I cum inside, princess?"

"You ca- do whatever you want, Ko- koutarou." You belted out as more orgasms overtook you.

"Say it again."

"KOUTAROU, MY GOD!!!"

That was what it took for him to cum inside you. He stayed in there for a while, sweat dripping from his chin onto your face. Your bodies were sticky and sweaty from his sex and it both of you were worn out.

"Koutarou..." you started but were interrupted by him pulling out and roughly turning you onto your stomach.

He pulled your hips up so you were face down, ass up and licked his lips when he saw your combined cum squeezing out of your cunt. "Round Two, pretty lady."

I guess, you were the only one worn out?

[chandelier-s-notebook]

Doodlewash April 2021 prompt 20: Roses

Songfic using Black Roses by Aviators.

The color black has often been synonymous with death and mourning and is usually used at funerals. But black roses do have a more positive meaning as well. They can stand for the beginning of new things and major change.

Reminder 93-10-01 = Tommy 83-11-03 = Hannahxxrose 93-08-02 = CupToast/Crumb 66-16-01 = Plushys 09-10-01 = Purpled

If anyone wants to be part of a taglist of the Vigilante AU, feel free to message me/send an ask/or mention it in reblogs.

--------------------------

We are husks

Plushys had been trapped in the warehouse on 1889 Coral Lane, not that she knew where she was, for eight months now. When she was taken it no one took her nail file off of her person. She hid it in her hair when she was forced to change into the warehouse uniform.

She got two meals a day, and she started a tally on the wall. At every other meal, another tally was put on the wall with her nail file.

But the tallies were very much racking up. She was tried. She wanted to go home.

After five months she was given a cellmate; 83-11-03, Hannah Rose. Hannah was a street rat. She grew up fighting for her place in the world. She clawed her way to get what she had; only for it to be ripped away by a group of men and a white van.

After Plushys made her new tally on Hannah’s first day she offered the girl the nail file. Hannah made her first mark, and settled in for the long run.

Plushys and Hannah were placed in the same fighting ability category. They’ve been pitted against each other a few times.

The people in charge of the fighting ring have a few wants. They make money by keeping the bettors as patrons. And the way to do that is to have a suspenseful fight. Plushys and Hannah deliver on the wants of the criminals.

Hannah was a street rat. Plushys was the twin sister of a vigilante. They knew how to fight. They knew how to make an event.

They had learned how to riff off each other. They could fight to the brink of the end only to comeback down in a way that was satisfying for the audience and kept up the suspense. They did this for a few reasons: one, they didn’t want to hurt each other; two, they needed to keep the criminals happy; three, the longer they went on for, the more time the other kids could rest up and get in the mindset; and four, it was a little fun when neither party cared too much.

“66-16-01 v. 83-11-03!”

Plushys caught 5up’s eye in the crown. “Please get us out of here,” her eyes begged.

Hannah threw the first punch. She was so ready to get out of here.

Alive but barely breathing

Crumb was not okay. She just wasn’t. She may have been born in District 93 but she was privileged by their standards. She had a loving mother and father and a stable live. She wasn’t built for fighting.

The only thing keeping her afloat and winning was her fear instincts driving her. And a few lessons by Hannah and Tommy during whatever downtime they could squeeze out.

If she doesn’t fight, her opponent was going to break her; literally.

Just because she could didn’t mean she liked it. She was forever grateful that Hannah and her cellmate 66-16-01 took forever to finish up. It gave her time to collect herself and to hind in her mind palace. She could hide away and repress the memories once all this was over.

Hannah suggested it to her. Tommy cautioned that one day the walls would fall and the memories would hit her like a freight train.

Crumb didn’t have the capacity; she was already going through so much trauma. What was a little more after the fact?

Sure she trusted them with her life, but she wanted her parents to help her feel completely safe to break.

The gong sounded. Hannah had 66-16-01 in a chokehold and the latter had tapped out. Crumb should really learn her name.

“And next to the mat 93-08-02 v. 87-08-01!”

Hannah offered 66-16-01 her hand. She ruffled Crumb’s hair in a comforting way as they passed.

The two eight year old girls bowed to each other; shaking, the both of them. “Meri.”

“Crumb.”

Crumb was not okay. But she had to be. She had to keep going.

Sometimes we pull ourselves together

If Hannah and Plushys’ version of rebellion was to play with their food and drag their fights out for just shy of too long. Then Tommy’s act of defiance was beating his opponents in as little time as possible. Even that one time he was given a fight against eight people, he was done with them all in about five minutes.

That year Tommy spent living in alleyways really helped here.

He rolled his shoulders up straight in the ring, six moaning bodies on the floor, bruises forming on his skin. The others looking much worse than he did.

He was honestly surprised that none of them were bleeding. Wasn’t that a pleasant thought?

He stood there, breathing heavy, for a moment. An uncomfortably long moment. Like they were waiting to see is any of his opponents was going to get up and fight back.

The gong sounded.

Tommy stared defiantly at the audience, unblinking, as aids put the six other kids on stretchers and got them medical attention.

“93-10-01 wins another match.”

But our efforts fade away

With every trip to the Warehouse on 1889 Coral Lane for intel, 5up hates his father more and more.

That man saw no problem with whatever was going on here.

In fact, now that he was going to the fights with his father, the man was paying more attention to him than he had in years. 5up hated it. He hated everything about this.

At least he now knew for sure what kind of person he needed to be to get his father’s approval. A guide on what not to do.

5up stared back at 93-10-01. This kid. This kid. He had so much spirit, and he was using it to fuel his rage.

5up could tell that 93-10-01 was tried. That he wanted to go home. Soon.

Soon. They were in the final stages of planning. They had a big enough team. They’d only need to hold out a little longer.

“93-10-01 wins another match.”

5up half-raised his hand, signaling he would be cashing out.

93-10-01 turned his head away and walked off.

We are dust

Plushys, Hannah, Tommy, and Crumb sat together in the children’s canteen.

“I hate him,” Tommy said.

“Who?”

“Mr. Nicchi Jr.”

“Give him time,” Pushys said. “This is a big job.”

“I know.” Tommy look at Crumb. He put some of his greens onto her place. “I don’t know how much longer we can hold you though.”

“I know.”

“And he’s a bettor.”

“He has too,” Plushys said. “It’s his cover. He can’t come in here and just demand they let everybody go. It’ll be more intense than that.”

“I know.”

“I promise he’s a vigilante.”

Tommy swallowed his food. He glanced at Hannah out the corner of his eye. “I trust you.” He took another bite. “I have too.”

Plushys looked around the canteen. She stabbed her fork into a softened carrot and held it above her head. “A toast. To eight months.”

Tommy raised a fork as well. “To three.”

Crumbling by the moment

“To three.” Hannah raised her fork and carrot as well. She ate the steamed vegetable and went back to longingly looking around.

Her spirit was falling.

But it shouldn’t be.

She was a street rat. She knew how to do this. She knew how to fight and she knew how to win.

She was very close to breaking down and lashing out, but that didn’t go well for the last kid that did that.

Hannah was tried. She felt dead. She didn’t want to do this anymore. She wants to leave, but she can’t.

Even if the door is right there.

The door outside was right next to her and Plushys’ cell. They had a nail file. They could break the bars.

But she can’t leave everyone else behind.

We try to push away the ending

“93-10-01.”

“What?”

The guard gestured to the food tray in front of Tommy.

“Right.” Tommy stood up. “I’ll see you guys next time.”

“Bye Tommy.”

“Just hold on a little longer.”

“We’ll be fine.”

Tommy grabbed another tray for Purpled and made his way down to room 322.

“Hey.”

Purpled grunted.

“I do not understand why they have this gag on you.”

Purpled shrugged. He jokingly try to bite Tommy three seconds later though.

“Hey. Without me you wouldn’t eat.”

Purpled gasped. “You would never do that to me would you?”

This was nice; both of them pretend that they aren’t kidnapping children and just two bros hanging out. Ignoring that Tommy was fork feeding Purpled food, as they still had him chained up.

“So when are you breaking us out?” Purpled asks.

“What? Where did that came from?”

“Seems like something you’d do.”

“I mean yeah.” Tommy looked down at the food. He lowered his voice, “Someone’s coming to help us.”

“I hope so.” Purpled looked away from Tommy’s fork. “Punz will come for me.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said distractedly. He honestly didn’t know if he should tell Purpled that there was a group of vigilantes coming to get them, the heroes. He was a posh upper ten boy, what would be think? ”Purpled? What do you think about vigilantes?”

Purpled took a bite of his food and thought about it while he chewed. “Vigilantes are unregulated menaces that try to do good.” Purpled tipped his head forward. “They do good. They do good, I know that.”

“You know that? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve seen the records. Heroes have notes on every problem creator – that they know of. But there are different categories between vigilantes and dipshits.”

“Dipshits?”

“Well that’s not what they’re called in the system. It’s more formal. But, like. vigilantes create problems for heroes, and dipshits create problems for vigilantes. Those guys can’t really be called really villains can they?”

“No. No they aren’t. Usually just the local robber.”

Purpled laughed. “The local robber?”

“Yeah. That’s a thing that exists in the lower districts.”

“You ever seen a local robber?”

“Sure. Had to hide behind a few shelves at the grocery store. Dude had a gun.”

“What the hell?”

“Just because District 9 is little crime free doesn’t mean the rest of us get that.”

“What the hell?”

“People gotta do what they gotta do.”

“And that doesn’t get reported?”

“Purpled if every single crime was reported to Hero HQ the whole system would collapse in on its self because of how many things they would have to deal with.”

“But-“

“Purpled. Vigilantes keep us safe.”

“Heroes keep us crime free,” Pured countered.

“And poverty keeps me the local thief in my area.”

“You’re what? Don’t vigilantes get called on you?”

“Nah. I’m just a kid. I don’t need much and I’m not messy about it. There are so many other kids doing that as well. They don’t really care.”

“What does that mean?”

“Literally all the food stalls just give out extra produce that’s going to go bad at the end of the day so they don’t have to worry about thieves during the day.”

“What?” Purpled’s mind was exploding the more Tommy told him about how he lived.

“Loose the same amount of coins but there’s no crime going on. And the food is already almost bad anyways so it’s going to get thrown out.”

“Why would you give out rotting food to children?”

“They don’t give out rotting food!” Tommy defended. “People just don’t buy the strawberry’s that are four days old when fresh ones are right there on the table. And even if the food is almost going bad, it’s going to get eaten that night so it doesn’t really matter.”

Purpled opened the closed his mouth a couple times. “I hope Captain comes for me.”

“Captain?” Tommy offered Purpled another bite of his dinner.

“Captain Sparklez? Lives in District 87?”

“Oh that guy. He helps vigilantes sometimes I’ve heard. He’s probably coming.”

“It’s going to be a group of vigilantes isn’t it? Punz isn’t coming for me?”

Tommy decided that honestly was the best policy. “I don’t know.”

And black roses fall the same

Hannah and Plushys both added another tally to their calendars.

Hannah started to file away at the bars on the cell wall. It might be helpful when they were finally able to get out of here.

Hannah looked at the black roses growing through the cracks in their exterior wall.

“We’re getting out of here.”

“We will be free,” Plushys added.

Taglist:

@causeimfabulous @anty-kreatywna @sleepysnails

[babycracker]

first line tag game

thank you for the tag @amlovelies! 🤍

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag some of your favourite authors!

1. pranks (litg: bobby/mc)

“Hey Jenna!” Bobby jogs over to join her as she walks back in through the front door, and she raises an eyebrow at his cheerier-than-usual demeanor.

“Did I miss anything while I was away?” she asks, returning his smile all the same because his happiness is infectious

2. love or money (litg: bobby/mc)

Bobby’s eyes cracked open, peering into the darkness like every other morning. He always woke up before the lights came on. Even after a month in the Villa, for a split second he forgot where he was and a pang of panic shot through him when he felt Amanda shift beside him before the last twenty-nine days came flooding back to him, and he allowed himself the tiniest of smug smirks.

3. when bobby met lani (litg: bobby/mc) explicit, minors dni

The beer's cheap and nasty, the bouncers are more interested in hitting on the girls coming through the door than actually providing any kind of security detail, and the male talent is… subpar. The music's half okay though, Lani thinks to herself as she chokes down the last of the God awful beer she'd ordered. The barman, who's barely taken his eyes off of her since she sat down, nods toward her empty bottle with his eyebrows raised.

4. the one that got away, chapter 23 (litg: bobby/f!oc) main story is explicit, minors dni

His phone beeping and vibrating across Tash's nightstand woke Bobby up. He groaned and squinted at it, the small light flashing in the corner indicating a text message. He heard Tash groan from where her face was pressed into his back as he reached out for it.

"What're you doing?" she murmured as she shifted to lay her head on his chest when he rolled onto his back, squeezing her eyes closed against the sudden light.

"I got a text, sorry."

"How much did it take for you not to yell that?"

He felt her grin against him and chuckled, "not as much as it used to."

5. keep on running, chapter 8 (litg: bobby/god knows honestly the boy was a ho)

Bobby slips his phone, keys and wallet into his pockets and steps out from behind the counter of the music store, ready to head home, but stops short when he sees Gary standing just inside the door waiting for him. He offers a small smile, which Bobby doesn’t return as he tries to walk past him and out onto the street. Gary’s arm shoots out, his hand on Bobby’s chest to stop him from moving, and he sighs and looks over at him.

6. while the cats are away, chapter 3 (litg: bobby&f!oc)

As usual Bobby was the first to wake up, and had quietly made his way to the bathroom to shower and get ready for the day while he had a few moments of peace. By the time he was done and heading back out to the bedroom, he was passing some of the others on their way to the bathroom. Tash was perched up on the edge of their bed waiting for him, holding a cup out to him as he made his way closer to the bed.

7. untitled (litg: ????)

Noah sat at their usual booth in the back of the bar, running his finger around the rim of his glass before letting out a sigh and checking the time on his phone again. He’d arrived early so he knew he had no business being impatient, but he’d needed to get out of that damn house, away from Hope.

It had been bad enough when they’d been playing nice. Watching her smile to his face while knowing that she was more than likely trashing him to whoever would listen as soon as his back was turned. Not that he had a right to be pissed off about that lately; he’d been doing the same thing for the last few weeks. But since signing the divorce papers, Hope had become a she-devil straight from the depths of Hell.

8. 25 (holi)days of wayhaven, day 31 (twc: adam/f!detective)

They’ve come a long way, and both of them feel it whenever they’re together. A long way from Jordan deliberately riling him up because she knew that just about everything she did irritated him. A long way from Adam going out of his way to spend as little time with her as possible.

It’s taken them a long time to realise that they were doing these things - leaning into their dislike for each other - as a way to distract themselves from the fact that they have always liked each other. Maybe they’ve always loved each other, though neither of them are willing to say that out loud.

9. untitled (twc: felix/f!detective)

Felix can't sit still. It's not as though it's unusual for him by any means, but it seems to be exaggerated when he's spent the last six hours in a place where there is literally nothing to do.

He's slumped on the chair beside the hospital bed, slouched down so low that his ass isn't even on the seat anymore, one of his legs jiggling up and down and both hands drumming erratically on his knees.

He lets out an impatient sigh and sits upright again, taking his hat off and running a hand through his hair.

10. sick like me, chapter 20 (litg: bobby/mc) explicit, minors dni

It had happened slowly, so slowly that if Lani hadn’t found herself (mostly) weirdly excited about it she might not have even noticed that it was happening. But Bobby was most definitely moving in, slowly but surely. It started with little things, a change of clothes here and there, some toiletries, until she was helping him sell off some of his bigger furniture, stuff that they both knew wouldn’t fit into Lani’s apartment.

After a few weeks, the two of them stood in the middle of what used to be his living room but was now nothing more than an empty space, as Bobby turned his keys over and over in his hand.

11. fire meet gasoline, chapter 4 (twc: morgan/m!oc)

She'd expected him to dress down a little, seeing that they are likely venturing into a sewer this morning. But all that's missing is his jacket; he's still wearing his usual long sleeve dress shirt and vest though his sleeves have been partially folded back, revealing the smallest glimpse of a tattoo on the outside of his right forearm.

"You know you're probably going to get covered in crap, right?"

"Wrong. But if you want to keep doubting me, go right ahead," he grins an obnoxiously cocky grin at her before turning and heading around the warehouse towards the sewers.

12. 28 dates with unit bravo, day 10 (twc: morgan/m!oc)

She doesn't like him. He's hot, that's all. And kind of cocky and kind of an asshole and what can she say? Morgan's into it. Maybe it's because he's the same as her; not relationship material by a long shot, but she has a feeling he knows his way around the bedroom. Probably the kitchen, bathroom and any number of outdoor locations as well. That, and he’s hot.

13. untitled (twc: adam/f!detective)

He can hear her pacing the hall outside of his room. She pauses every time she passes his door, and everytime she does he tenses, only to relax again just slightly when she returns to pacing.

Part of him wants to throw his door open and drag her into his room. Another part wants to stick his head out the door and order her to return to her room and stop shuffling around outside of his. But a part bigger than both of them makes him stay put, sitting on the edge of his bed and carefully unlacing his boots.

14. luck of the unit, day 20 (twc: adam/f!detective)

"Say another one!" Jordan can barely get the words out between gasps of laughter, only becoming more hysterical every time she catches a glimpse of the unimpressed expression on Adam’s face.

“This is hardly the best use of your time here,” he points out, pausing to gesture around the study, “you are supposed to be studying.”

“I am studying, I’m learning a foreign language,” she insists with a defiant nod, and when his shoulders sag in defeat she knows she’s got him. “Come on, another one.”

15. untitled (tanner, not fanfic)

"Does it hurt?"

"Nah."

"Liar."

Tanner pauses for a moment, unable to hold back a wince when the tattooist starts again. "Little bit."

Skylar grins at him and sits up straight in the seat again, smiling smugly at him before spinning the seat and herself around in a circle.

"Dad's gonna kill you," she points out when she finally stops herself from spinning, and Tanner rolls his eyes at her.

16. echoes in the forest, chapter 13 (twc: adam/f!detective)

“I got a bad feeling about this,” Felix murmurs quietly, trudging along between Nate and Mason. Jordan and Adam are walking up ahead close by the boy as he continues wandering through the forest.

“You mean you haven’t felt that way since we got here?” Mason scoffs, not bothering to lift his eyes from the ground in front of him.

“Yeah, but worse now,” Felix answers, and Nate places a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“It will be alright,” he tries, but somehow Felix doesn’t find himself as reassured as he usually does when Nate attempts to comfort him.

oop, didn’t quite make 20. and jfc did i have to dive down to the bottom of the barrel to get what i did, some of these were almost a year ago. i’m noticing now that i start with a character’s name more often than not. honestly i don’t think i can pick a favourite, i’ve been thinking on it for like 15 minutes now and i honestly dunno.

and i know some of you think that you know everything that i have written even if it hasn’t been/isn’t to be posted... and i know that seeing this list of untitleds, you may be surprised and i’m sorry lol.

gonna tag @dwead-piwate-meggers @mistyeyedbi @masonscig @echohauville and @agentsunshine (no pressure ofc!) and to anyone else who wants to get in on this, tag me!

[lallemanting]

for want of gold

When your soulmate touches you, it leaves behind an imprint, color staining your skin. Red for romantic soulmates. Blue for platonic. That’s the universe Lucas knows, the one he’s supposed to take part in. He wishes he didn’t have to.

Or an enemies to friends to lovers/soulmate au where Lucas is jaded, Eliott is hopeful, and it should be simple, but, of course, it isn’t.

chapter 6

(tw for a brief scene dealing with Eliott’s bipolar)

“Gold runs in our blood.” ― Virginia Woolf, The Waves

It’s incredible how fast Lucas is able to get himself to leave the art show. There’s part of him that says that he should just go to Eliott, see him, talk to him, that it might not be what it seems.

But there’s another, louder, part of him that just wants to go, wants to sit in his newfound revelation and process. Wants to think about Eliott, and how he sees him and how this changes things.

Because the thing is, Lucille is exactly the kind of person Eliott deserves. She’s beautiful and seems nice and as they stand together surrounded by their friends, Lucas can see how well they fit, how good they look together, how much Eliott deserves that...or at least something like that. 

And sure Lucille isn’t his soulmate, but Eliott deserves to have someone now, like Lucille, while he waits. Because Lucas can’t imagine a universe in which Eliott doesn’t get his soulmate. There’s never been someone more deserving than Eliott. And knowing now what that means to him, Lucas can forgive his strict belief in the universe, can forgive the stock Eliott takes in the whole soulmate business, because it’s something for him to hold on to, something important. 

In the end, Lucas can’t muster up the courage to go and talk to Eliott before he leaves. He goes up to Sofiane and Imane and says something about a headache – which isn’t entirely untrue seeing how his brain has only been chanting you’re in love with Eliott over and over again for the last 20 minutes. And in any case, Lucas doesn’t want to bring down the mood at the show. It’s Eliott’s big night and he deserves to have it as bright and happy and not influenced by emotional turmoil as possible. 

So Lucas finds his coat and slips out. 

He elects to walk home, hoping the cold air will clear his head and maybe dull his senses a bit, giving him some relief from the onslaught of feelings he’s having. He’s in love with Eliott. How could he have not picked up on that before? It’s not that it should be overly surprising given how fast he’d let Eliott in, how fast Eliott had made a place in Lucas’ heart to call his own.

And yet, Lucas hadn’t seen it coming. But maybe that’s because he wasn’t paying attention. 

He’s been so wrapped up for so long in the logistics of love, the logistics of soulmates and soulmarks and his vendetta against a system he never chose to be a part of, that he’d forgotten to let himself feel anything else. 

But now that it’s here, now that the feeling has washed over him and the choir that’s appeared in his head is singing only refrains of him loving Eliott, it feels like he may never be able to live without it.

In his haze to protect the heart his father had broken, Lucas had never let himself imagine there would be someone who wanted to fix it, someone he’d want to fix it. And in the end, he’d set himself up for this really.

And Eliott deserves more than that. Eliott deserves more than what Lucas can give him.

So Lucas puts his head down to steel himself against the cold, and presses on towards home.

***

Lucas tries to slink in unnoticed, desperate for a chance to sleep, to forget the feelings churning within him for a few hours. But it’s not that late and Yann is still up, watching some dumb sitcom on the tv and he spots Lucas as he walks in the front door.

“How was the art show?” Yann asks, his tone light and teasing. And Lucas knows what he’s implying, what he’s hinting at, but having been hit with a tidal wave of new feelings and, perhaps, a little heartbreak, he can’t listen to it right now.

“Fine,” he huffs out, heading straight for his room, not bothering to take off his coat and shoes by the door. 

And how Lucas wishes sometimes that Yann didn’t know him as well as he does. “Hey, you okay?” Yann asks, reaching out to pause the show. “Did something happen?”

“I’m fine,” Lucas responds shortly.

“Lucas��”

“I said I’m fine!” He slams his door behind him.

He gets ready for bed quickly, dropping his clothes on the ground in a pile and pulling on an old t-shirt he finds strewn across his bed. He’s cold, which is unusual, seeing as his room is normally boiling due to its small size and lack of ventilation. But tonight there’s a chill clinging to his bones and he shivers, pulling the covers up over his head to speed up his body warming the bed.

His mind is eagerly playing the scene at the show over and over again in his head, refusing, for even a moment to let Lucas breathe. He wishes, desperately, that he was even remotely tired, but he’s not and he knows he’ll be up for at least a few more hours. But the darkness and the blankets are calming so he lays there in the silence.

And it sucks, it does, but sleepless nights with his mind fixating on the same thing over and over again are nothing new to him. So he sighs, tries to find the light in his chest to get himself to calm down, but it’s not there for some reason, it’s hard to find. He tries for a while before he finally gives up, flopping over to retrieve his phone from his pants pocket on the floor thinking he’ll probably turn on some Netflix and hopefully fall asleep to that.

He clicks open his phone and his heart drops.

Eliott (22:53) Hey where are you? Did you leave? Are you okay?

Eliott (23:02) Okay just talked to Sofiane, hope you feel better! Did you get home okay?

Eliott (23:11) Lucas?

Eliott (23:30) Okay I texted Yann and he said you went straight to bed so I’m assuming you’re not responding because you’re asleep Text me in the morning okay? Goodnight x

Lucas’ fingers itch to respond and his heart is almost beating out of his chest that Eliott is texting him, that Eliott wants to know where he is, if he is okay. But then he thinks again of Eliott standing there surrounded by the love he deserved and Lucille and it’s too much. His heart aches and Lucas almost grabs at his chest, but he can’t bring himself to respond. Because Eliott – sweet, charming, beautiful Eliott – deserves so much more than Lucas.

Instead Lucas swipes away and opens up Netflix, finding a show he’s seen hundreds of times before and puts it on, playing episode after episode until his eyes can’t stay open any longer.

***

It should be no surprise then that that night, and for many nights after, Lucas’ dreams are filled with the phantom Eliott that had slipped into his mind and awakened his heart.

The dreams are always the same – lit soft and golden, them laying in bed together, Eliott touching him so softly and sweetly he could cry, leaving trails of red behind in their wake. 

They all end the same too – with Eliott leaning in, Lucas longing to feel his lips against his own – only for Lucas to awaken with a start, breath rapid, an ache deep within his chest.

It’s these dreams, Lucas tells himself that make him avoid Eliott. He hadn’t planned on it, at first, giving himself Saturday to deal with whatever he thought he was feeling and push it down, lock it away, just like with everything else and reemerge totally normally. He can do normal. He can do friends. He wants nothing more than to have Eliott around, but there would be no use in telling him how he feels, because what then?

Eliott is waiting for his soulmate and the chance that that’s Lucas, well they’re not very good.

So Lucas plans to tuck it away until the feelings disappear, as he assumes they will, just as quickly as they appeared. But when he wakes up every morning to thoughts of Eliott making him gasp, it’s hard to think of anything else.

For a few days Lucas manages to get away with it. He puts some distance between him and Eliott, texting him back, but only just. He feigns illness over the weekend, shutting Eliott down when he offers to bring him some soup, claiming he doesn’t want to get Eliott sick. He stays in his room for the most part, using the extra hours to study, and thinks he’s even managed to fool Yann, who had picked up a few extra shifts and spent more time out of the apartment than usual.

And then, on Monday and Tuesday, he tells Eliott that he can’t see him because of a major test he has on Wednesday (which, to be fair, Lucas isn’t making up. He’s just, maybe, making up exactly how much time he needs to study for it). And Eliott, like the sweet angel he is, takes everything Lucas says to him at face value, even offering to bring coffee to the library for him, which Lucas nicely turns down.

But Lucas knows that despite his best efforts, Eliott is probably picking up on Lucas’ avoidance more than he’d like. Where memes and silly posts that Eliott would send him normally led to a conversation spanning a few hours, now Lucas replies with a word or two, trying to end the conversation before it starts. It’s just – Lucas can’t get over Eliott if he’s talking to him all the time.

So in the end, it all sets him up to come crashing down spectacularly as it does on Wednesday.

Lucas is at the coffee shop, leaning against the counter chatting with Yann and waiting for his shift to end so they can walk home together when he hears someone clear their throat behind him. He turns, expecting a customer annoyed with him for distracting the barista instead of letting him make the coffees, but instead he’s met with six-feet of sheepish boy, shoulders hunched, hands shoved in his pockets, a tentative smile on his face, dark circles around his eyes.

“Hey,” Eliott says softly.

Lucas stares at him for a moment, forgetting how to breathe slightly, because for all that he’d convinced himself it’d be easy to get over Eliott, seeing him in the flesh for the first time since his realization is like getting hit in the face with a hammer. Lucas’ mouth goes dry and all he can see are Eliott’s beautiful gray eyes staring back at him, warmth flooding his entire body. He swallows, heart pounding in his chest, before he answers. “Hi.”

Eliott shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Lucas has noticed he does that when he’s nervous. So he’s nervous, which makes two of them. “Haven’t really heard from you in a while,” he says, his hand coming up and his fingers tracing over his lips. “Feeling better?”

Lucas shoots a glance over to where Yann is standing behind the counter, seemingly making a cappuccino, but Lucas knows he’s definitely also intently listening to every word they’re saying. “Um, yeah, just caught the flu or something,” Lucas says, “but I’m better now.”

“Good,” Eliott replies.

They look at each other, for a moment, the silence washing over them and this is the first time since they became friends, Lucas thinks, that it’s ever been awkward between them. It brings him back to when they used to not get along, except this time, Eliott is coming in with less fire, less self-confidence than Lucas is used to. He just seems so tired.

Eliott’s hand finds his pocket again and he shifts, looking like he wants to say something. “Um, are you...are you upset with me?” he blurts, eyes dropping to the ground.

Lucas’ chest constricts. “No,” he breathes out, because, god, he’d never want to make Eliott feel badly. This, all of this, is Lucas’ fault. “Why do you think that?”

“It feels like you’ve been avoiding me is all.”

“No, I haven’t, I promise,” Lucas lies, because he can’t explain himself, but he also can’t have Eliott thinking this is on him. “I’ve just been really busy.”

Eliott looks up again, catching Lucas’ eye, a small smile finding its way to his mouth. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

“So we can hang out soon?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, good,” Eliott says, pulling on the strap of his backpack. “I, uh, have to go to class now, but I’ll text you?”

“Okay,” Lucas replies and then Eliott is gone.

Lucas turns back to the counter and takes a few deep, steadying breaths, his hands gripping the smooth wood. He looks up and finds Yann looking back at him, a strange look on his face. But he says nothing.

Lucas walks home with Yann in relative quietness, cracking jokes here and there but otherwise just making their way to their apartment. They’re both tired, Lucas knows, and he can’t help but think about the leftovers waiting for him in the fridge and the Netflix he can watch since he doesn’t have any assignments left this week. And maybe that will take his mind off of everything for a few hours.

But apparently Yann has other ideas.

The door to their apartment has barely closed when Yann whips around to face Lucas. “So here’s what’s gonna happen,” he says sternly. “We’re both going to go to our rooms to change and then you’re going to come back out here and explain to me what the fuck is going on with you.”

Lucas just stares at him and Yann stares back, as if daring him to disagree. The look on Yann’s face is enough that Lucas knows there’s no protesting. 

“Fine.”

It takes a few minutes but soon enough they’re both sitting in the living room on the old couch. Lucas has changed into a pair of old sweats and a sweatshirt and he plays absentmindedly with a thread at the end of one of his sleeves. They’ve been sitting here for a few minutes, neither of them saying anything as Lucas tries to find the words. Because the thing is, Yann will push, but only just. He’d never actually make Lucas tell him something he didn’t want to. But Lucas wants to. He feels like he might explode if he doesn’t talk to someone about it.

Finally Lucas takes a deep breath and pulls on the thread, ripping it off the hoodie. “It’s Eliott,” he says.

He looks up to find Yann looking at him with one eyebrow raised, unimpressed. “Yeah, no shit.”

Lucas groans. “That obvious, huh?”

“I would have paid money to not have to be a witness to whatever the hell just happened in the coffee shop,” Yann says. “It was excruciatingly awkward.”

Lucas groans louder and shuts his eyes. He really brought this on himself.

“Did you guys get in a fight or something?” Yann asks, his face suddenly slightly contorted with concern.

And wouldn’t it be great if it was just that, if it was that simple, if it wasn’t this instead, the throbbing in his heart that won’t go away.

“No,” Lucas sighs. “Why would you think that?”

Yann shakes his head. “I don’t know, because it was super awkward and the two of you used to not like each other, remember?”

That time feels so far away now that Lucas almost doesn’t.

“No it’s not that,” Lucas says.

“Okay?”

“I, uh, I think I’m in love with Eliott. Or...I am. I’m in love with Eliott.”

Yann just blinks at him. It’s not the gawking or complete and utter disbelief Lucas was expecting.

“You don’t look surprised,” he says.

Yann sighs. “I’m not, not really. Though I’m not really seeing why it’s a problem.”

“What?” Lucas asks incredulously. “It’s Eliott! I’m in love with Eliott and I just realized it and now I’m avoiding him.”

“Why are you avoiding him?”

Lucas groans again because he doesn’t understand what Yann is getting at, doesn’t understand how Yann isn’t immediately grasping the seriousness of this situation. “What do you mean why am I avoiding him? Because I’m afraid that he’ll find out!”

Yann just looks at him.

Lucas goes on. “And if he finds out, it will ruin everything because he’s waiting for his soulmate and he won’t know how to act around me when he doesn’t love me back.”

Yann rolls his eyes so hard Lucas is scared for a minute they’ll get stuck that way. “Lucas, I know you do well in school, but I swear you are one of the dumbest people I know.”

“Hey! What are you talking about?”

“Eliott is 100% definitely into you.”

Lucas stares at him. “What! No he’s not!”

“He so is,” Yann replies, rubbing a hand across his face and looking so, so tired. “The two of you have practically been dating for the past month.”

Lucas’ heart drops to his stomach. “We have not!”

“All the things you’ve been doing, all the times you hung out? Those were dates,” Yann says, his face straight, voice even. “You do realize those were dates right?”

Lucas sputters for a moment. “They weren’t dates! Eliott had to go to them anyway for school and asked me to tag along. Perfectly friendly!”

“They were dates,” Yann says again, even more firmly if that’s possible. “I don’t know if either of you realize it – you both can be a bit, shall we say, oblivious – but you’ve been dating without all the benefits for a month. Homework be damned.”

Lucas closes his eyes. “No,” he starts, but Yann cuts him off again.

“Lucas,” he says and waits until Lucas opens his eyes and looks at him. “You need to talk to him. He’s been treating you like you’re dating. I wouldn’t be surprised if all the homework assignments he suddenly needed help with weren’t just an excuse to get you alone, go do things with you. What does he need your help for, with his art homework? You’re pre-med for god’s sake.”

Lucas blanches. “Well he wasn’t exactly asking me for help , I was just tagging along…”

Yann lets out an exasperated sigh. “You’re just proving my point,” he says. And then, “Stop being stupid and talk to him.”

Lucas just stares at him, mouth hanging open. “It’s not...we’re just…” he tries, but no words seem to come.

Yann shrugs, but reaches out and pats Lucas’ shoulder. “Maybe I’m wrong,” he says, “but I think, whatever the case may be, you need to talk to him. Clearly avoiding him isn’t working.”

And Lucas hates it, but he knows Yann is right, knows he can’t keep this up forever.

“You’re right,” he says. “I’ll talk to him.”

***

And Lucas tries, he really does, to talk to Eliott. Only, it seems, Eliott doesn’t want to talk to him. 

Lucas texts him the morning after his talk with Yann. Nothing too serious, just asking if they can meet up soon. He gets no response all day, which is definitely unusual for Eliott. He texts him again that night, just asking if Eliott is okay, which also receives no response.

By Saturday, Lucas is annoyed, and also a little worried. Sure, he was avoiding Eliott too, but that didn’t mean he stopped responding to him completely. And after everything, this just feels so unlike Eliott to leave him hanging like this, to just not get back to him, so maybe, in the end, he’s a little dramatic.

Sure, he could have probably texted Idriss, just to make sure Eliott was okay, but there’s something that tells him it would break his heart to have Idriss be the one to tell him that everything was fine, that Eliott just didn’t want to talk to him. So instead, he heads over to Idriss and Eliott’s apartment.

When he reaches the door to their building, it’s early afternoon and Lucas has spent all morning in the library. Lucas had specifically waited until he knew they’d be up and around, not wanting Idriss to be annoyed with him if he knocked on their door at 11 in the morning. He’s about to dial up when someone leaves the building, so he slips in the door, climbing the three flights of stairs to the apartment.

And suddenly, standing there in front of the big wooden door, Lucas feels a little ridiculous. He’s being dramatic, he knows, and he should just turn back, just wait until Eliott is ready to talk to him again, give Eliott space if that’s what he needs.

But he’s here, and there’s something telling Lucas that he can’t walk away now, he needs to know if this is Eliott deciding he’s done with Lucas for good, if just a taste of a few days away from him made Eliott realize he was better off.

Lucas takes a deep breath and knocks on the door.

He hears some shuffling inside the apartment and then the door is opening to reveal Idriss, who looks at Lucas with confusion written across his face. 

“Lucas...” he says, surprised, “What are you doing here?”

“Is Eliott here?” Lucas asks, his voice wavering slightly as he tries not to let Idriss see his panic.

“Uh,” Idriss replies, looking over his shoulder and then back at Lucas. “Listen, Lucas, he’s, uh, not really feeling too well right now and I…”

And suddenly all of his annoyance, all of his fear of what Eliott thinks of him and them and everything else drops away and is replaced by worry. Worry only for Eliott’s wellbeing, because maybe Eliott is hurting or sick or having a hard time and Lucas didn’t know.

“Is he okay?” Lucas asks quickly.

Idriss looks at him tentatively, as if he’s trying to find the right words. “Yeah,” Idriss says finally. “Or he will be. He’s just tired, so I don’t know if now is the best time...”

And there’s something in Idriss face that makes the remaining pieces click into place because Lucas remembers this, remembers from the research he did right after Eliott told him. 

“Is, um,” Lucas pauses, unsure of exactly how to phrase it, exactly how to not be insensitive but still wanting to make sure. “Is it his bipolar?”

Idriss’ face changes and he stares at Lucas, slightly bewildered. “He told you?” he asks quietly. 

Lucas nods, “Yeah.”

Idriss smiles then, but it’s a small smile, a private smile that seems less about happiness and more like he’s realizing something. “Wait here,” he says. “I’m going to go talk to Eliott.”

Lucas stands in the hallway, waiting, his heart beating rapidly in his chest, and all he can think is how much he hopes Eliott is okay, how much he wishes he’d known something was going on, how he’d managed to miss it. 

It takes a few minutes but then Idriss reappears from around the corner, and Eliott must have said something okay because Idriss is reaching out to pull the door open wider and ushering Lucas in. “He’s in his room,” Idriss says, pointing down the hall. Lucas smiles at him and goes.

He realizes suddenly that he’s not sure which one is Eliott’s room, that he’s never been in there before, but he pushes the thought down quickly when he sees that only one door in the hallway is shut, the other two leading to a bathroom and Idriss’ room.

Lucas walks up to the closed door and knocks lightly, waiting for a faint come in , before he’s turning the knob and pushing the door open.

Lucas is hit by the relative darkness. It’s afternoon and a sunny day, but the curtains are all pulled tight, light bleeding in softly through the slightly gauzy material. The room is small, but that’s unsurprising for Paris, a dresser in one corner, drawers open halfway, and a small desk under one of the windows.

In the other corner is Eliott’s bed, a large double piled high with blankets and a lump in the middle Lucas assumes is Eliott. There’s a nightstand on one side that holds a lamp, a book, a glass of water and an uneaten piece of toast.

Lucas’ heart pinches.

“Hi,” Lucas says quietly, tentatively.

The lump moves slightly and then Eliott’s head appears from under the covers, his eyes blinking rapidly. “Come in here and shut the door,” he says, his voice croaking with disuse.

Lucas steps into the room and closes the door gently behind him, dropping his backpack from his shoulders and walking over to Eliott’s bed, sitting gently on the mattress. He takes in Eliott’s face looking back at him, the dark circles around his eyes, the way he’s laying, small and curled up on the bed.

“How are you doing?” Lucas asks, hoping it’s the right thing to say.

Lucas thinks Eliott shrugs, but he can’t really tell under the blankets.

“Better than yesterday,” Eliott says.

Lucas swallows, unsure of how to proceed. “Is there anything I can do?”

Eliott shakes his head. “No.” And then, “it’s nice to see you though.”

“It’s good to see you too,” Lucas replies, because it is, it’s always good to see Eliott, even if his heart is aching at how tired and small and sad Eliott looks. “I hadn’t heard from you in a few days,” he explains. “I just wanted to see if you were...uh, how you were doing.”

Eliott sighs. “I’m just having a couple bad days.”

“Okay.”

“It’s not an episode ,” Eliott says quickly, as if he’s used to having to defend himself, but Lucas doesn’t say anything more than okay again, wishing that he could reach out and brush the hair away from Eliott’s forehead. “Sometimes I just have a bad couple days.”

“That’s okay,” Lucas replies and he means it. All he wants is for Eliott to feel better.

They sit in silence for a moment in the dim room, the whirring of Eliott’s fan drowning out the noises outside. And it’s peaceful and quiet and safe and Lucas can understand why Eliott is seeking shelter here, weathering the storm here. 

“You don’t have to stay,” Eliott whispers.

“I can go if you want me to.”

“It’s just...I'm not very good company right now,” Eliott replies, pulling up the covers to his chin. “I’m doing a lot of sleeping.”

Lucas smiles. “I don’t mind.”

Eliott stares at him then, his eyes tired but searching, a storm of gray that Lucas longs to see settled, an indent on his face from where it’s been pressed into the pillow. And all Lucas can think is how beautiful he is, how lucky he is someone like Eliott in his life. 

“I don’t want you to stay because you feel like you have to,” Eliott says then, his voice even quieter than it was before.

“I’m not,” Lucas replies quickly. “If you want me to go, I’ll go. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to sit here with you. And you can sleep because I have some studying to do anyway.”

Lucas thinks he maybe sees a ghost of a smile on Eliott’s lips. “Okay,” he whispers.

“Okay,” Lucas says and he goes to get his textbook from his bag before he turns around and finds Eliott’s moved over on the bed to make room for him. 

(And Lucas can’t help the way his stomach flutters, the way his heart swells, the way, despite all his efforts, the love in his chest expands so much he can hardly breathe with the weight of it.)

Lucas settles onto the bed, a pillow behind his back and Eliott lying next to him, and thinks Eliott has already fallen back asleep, his eyes closed, his face buried in the covers when he says something softly, muffled by the fabric.

“I thought you were avoiding me because of my painting,” Eliott says, “but you’re here.”

Lucas glances down at Eliott, heartbeat picking up as he tries to interpret what Eliott means by that, why Lucas would ever avoid him because of that, but at he stares down at Eliott’s form, sleep already overtaking him, he knows it’s not the time. Instead, he just reaches down and pulls the covers even tighter around Eliott. “I’m here,” he says.

***

Eliott wakes again a few hours later to find Lucas watching Netflix on his phone, slumped down farther in the pillows. 

“What time is it?” Eliott croaks and Lucas nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound.

“You’re awake!” he says and then stops whatever he’s watching to check the time. “Ah it’s almost 6.”

“Almost 6.”

“About dinner time,” Lucas muses. “Are you hungry?”

Eliott shifts slightly, bringing his body closer to Lucas’ but still far enough to keep them from touching. “Maybe a little.”

Lucas smiles. “I’ll go get you something, yeah?”

And he does.

Lucas gets Eliott something small and while he’s in the kitchen making it, Idriss passes by with a grateful look on his face and a whispered how is he doing? and Lucas can’t help but feel warm that Eliott has people like that that care for him. He brings the food back into Eliott’s room and waits for Eliott to shift a little so he can eat it, joining him in the bed and eating too. It is dinner time after all.

Then Lucas suggests putting on a movie. “You can go back to sleep if you want,” he says, “but it just might be nice to have on.” Eliott’s whispered okay is enough to have Lucas retrieving Eliott’s laptop from the desk and loading an old Disney movie just to make Eliott laugh.

“I’m sorry but none of your artsy crap,” Lucas teases, and Eliott lets out a small laugh from his pile of blankets. “We’re not using our brains today.”

And then they settle in, the opening sound of the movie playing, Eliott laying back down on the pillow next to him and they’re close but not quite touching, and for once, Lucas isn’t scared.

“I should probably go once this is over,” Lucas says, chancing a glance towards Eliott, whose eyes are fixed on the laptop. He says it quietly, as a precaution, in case Eliott falls asleep and Lucas isn’t here when he wakes up. “Is that okay?”

Eliott shifts his gaze to look at him. “Of course it’s okay.”

“Okay.”

But there’s something gripping his chest, and suddenly Lucas just wants to reach out and touch , reach out and ground himself to Eliott here , as they lay side by side and Eliott rides out the storm. But he can’t, not yet, not like this. It wouldn’t be fair.

Instead he settles for something he can do.

“Can I give you a hug?” he whispers and Eliott turns to him with wide eyes.

“What?”

“Can I give you a hug? You know, like how you did for me that one time?”

The more Eliott looks at him, the more Lucas is regretting saying anything at all but then Eliott’s face is splitting into a soft smile and he’s looking, really looking at Lucas in a way Lucas isn’t used to.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

So Lucas shifts, pulling the hoodie more tightly around himself, putting the hood on and pulling on the ties a little, pulling the sleeves down over his hands. And Eliott shifts too, moving to sit up a bit, to settle in closer to Lucas. Lucas reaches out, wrapping his arms around Eliott’s neck and pulling him close, and Eliott’s arms find Lucas’ waist, wrapping securely around it. Eliott’s face tucks into Lucas’ neck, into the fabric that separates them and Lucas holds on.

He never wants to let go.

They hold each other as a moment passes and then another. And then Eliott whispers something into the space between Lucas’ neck and his shoulder and Lucas almost misses it, but not quite.

“Thank you for being here.”

There’s something raw in his voice, a hidden fear that Lucas hasn’t seen before, hasn’t been witness to, but is there all the same. And Lucas knows that despite everything he’s been telling himself, despite his best efforts, he might not ever stop loving Eliott. But, really, it might not be the worst thing.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” he breathes back.

***

Lucas sees Manon the next day, another afternoon of drinking tea in her apartment that Lucas has come to love. They talk briefly about school and classes but Lucas is fidgety and Manon can always tell when something is going on with him.

“Okay, spill,” Manon says, nudging Lucas’ leg with her foot. “What’s going on with you?”

For a brief moment Lucas contemplates lying to her, telling her it’s nothing, but he knows, in the end, he won’t.

“Eliott,” he says softly, his stomach flipping at the mention of him.

Manon raises her eyebrow at him. “Eliott?”

“Yeah,” Lucas replies. “I’m in love with him.”

“Oh, Lucas.”

“But I can’t have him.”

“Why not?”

Lucas sighs, exasperated and long and drawn out. “Because he wants his soulmate, Manon, and I can’t be the person he’s with while he’s waiting.”

“How do you know you’re not his soulmate?” Manon asks, her voice low, her eyes searching Lucas’ face.

“The chances of that are astoundingly low.”

“But there’s a chance.”

Lucas wishes his heart didn’t pick up at the mere mention of that. Because he can’t let himself hope, can he? It might crush him if it turns out to be wrong. “Maybe, but, what if I’m not?”

“Would you still love him?”

“Yes,” Lucas replies. “Always.”

Manon smiles at him, a small smile she tends to reserve for times she thinks Lucas is being stubborn. “Then maybe you should give Eliott a chance to make that decision for himself.”

Lucas sighs. “So you think I should tell him?”

“I think it’ll hurt more if you don’t.”

***

It’s been a week since Eliott’s down days and Lucas has been texting him, checking in to make sure he’s alright. They’ve seen each other once during the week, when Lucas brought him some class notes and takeout and they’d sat on Eliott’s couch and watched a movie and it all felt like it had before.

But Lucas knows it can’t stay that way forever. Ever since his conversation with Manon, he knows he needs to talk to Eliott, needs to say something to him or he’s afraid he’ll never be able to move past it. And the last thing he needs is to get his heart broken in a year or two when Eliott finally finds his soulmate. If he’s getting his heart broken, it’s happening now.

He’s made plans with Eliott that weekend – grabbing coffee and homework and Lucas is planning to tell him then, he really is, but it seems like the universe isn’t quite done fucking with him just yet.

Instead, on Friday, when Lucas is dragged to yet another party with his friends, he sees Eliott there, noticing him after he’s already had a drink or two, sending butterflies soaring in his stomach.

Eliott had told Lucas he was planning on going out with Idriss, ready to blow off some steam after his hard time nearly a week ago, but Lucas hadn’t thought they’d end up at the same party. Though now that he thinks about it, it shouldn’t be that surprising, seeing as they do run in the same social circles.

When Lucas sees him, Lucas is where he normally is at parties – hidden in a corner, beer in hand, hoodie pulled up around his face, sleeves pulled down so that no skin is visible. It’s a habit – one born out of self preservation and it’s yet to die.

Eliott...is not where he usually is at parties. Usually Eliott stations himself near the door, greeting as many people as he can as they walk in and or as they leave. It’s a good plan, for someone who wants to touch as many people as they can. But tonight Eliott has tucked himself in by the couch, surrounded by people Lucas vaguely recognizes as his friends from class, Idriss also standing there next to him.

It’s a sharp contrast to see Eliott like that – more quiet and subdued. Usually Eliott at parties is loud and bright and burning, the star at the center of a solar system. Lucas would know: he spent months hating him for it. But now, today, Eliott is more subdued. A star still, yes, burning just as brightly to Lucas, shining just as strong. But now it’s less like Eliott’s a puppet master and more like he’s letting the world move around him. And he’s not touching people. If anything, he’s avoiding them. Lucas doesn’t know what to make of it.

Maybe it’s the beer talking, though really it was inevitable, but suddenly Lucas gets a surge of courage, and tells himself that the next time Eliott extracts himself from the crowd to go to the kitchen or the bathroom, Lucas will go over there, and make sure Eliott sees him, really sees him. Hell, maybe he’ll just walk over and kiss him, throw words out the window.

His heart is beating fast and loud. 

Lucas watches as Eliott unfolds himself from the couch, his long legs stretching out as he takes one step and then another, moving around the crowd of people to the back of the couch, not yet seeing Lucas. Lucas feels his muscles itch, like they’re ready to take a step, move him towards Eliott.

And then someone familiar is walking up to Eliott, pressing a kiss to Eliott’s cheek and making Eliott throw back his head as he laughs. Lucille.

Lucas feels the panic well up again and suddenly all the confidence he’s been building the past few days vanishes. He’s being so stupid thinking someone like Eliott could ever love him, could ever even want him. Telling Eliott how he feels will just ruin what they do have, and that’s the last thing Lucas wants.

Lucas turns to leave, fight his way out of the party because he can’t be here anymore, can’t be forced to watch the boy he loves surrounded by people who are better for him, people he actually should be with.

But then he’s coming face to face with a body, connected to a face Lucas has seen before smirking down at him. Lucas recognizes him from one of his classes, thinks his name might be Todd, or Tom, or something like that, but they’ve never spoken before. Why would they?

“Excuse me,” Lucas says and he tries to maneuver around the guy, heading towards the exit, but then the guy throws out an arm, blocking Lucas’ path and Lucas flinches at how close his bare skin comes to him.

“Hey,” the boy slurs, leaning closer to Lucas and Lucas panics taking a step back. “I think we have a class together.”

“Maybe,” Lucas replies, looking around for an easy way to get out of this situation, but finding none as Todd or Tom takes a step closer. “Sorry I have to go–”

“You’re that kid who doesn’t let anyone touch him,” the boy says, triumphant. “You’re kind of hot.”

Lucas doesn’t reply, but something akin to fear wells up in him.

“What do you say you let me touch you, and then you can touch me?” the boy continues, his intentions obvious as he leans closer to Lucas’ face. 

“Please stop,” Lucas says, his voice weak, as he hugs his sweatshirt closer. “Please get away from me.”

“Oh come on baby,” the boy says again, reaching out a hand. “It’s just one touch.”

And Lucas freezes. He doesn’t know what to do, where to run. Instead, Lucas closes his eyes, flinching as the boy reaches out to touch his cheek.

And suddenly the shadow above him is gone.

“He said to leave him alone,” a voice says roughly, coming from beside Lucas. “I suggest you listen to him.” And Lucas knows that voice, he’ll always know that voice.

Lucas opens his eyes to find Eliott standing there, roughly holding the boy’s wrist from where he’s wrenched it away from Lucas’ face. The boy is grimacing in discomfort as Eliott holds his wrist at an uncomfortable angle.

“You’re gonna leave him alone,” Eliott says slowly, firmly. “And you’re going to apologize. Do you understand?”

The boy nods rapidly. “Jesus, yes, okay?” Seemingly satisfied, Eliott releases his wrist, and the boys snatches it back, rubbing it slightly as he turns towards Lucas. “Sorry,” he says and then he turns, quickly disappearing into the crowd.

Eliott quickly turns towards him. “Are you okay?”

Lucas nods his head a little frantically. “Yes,” he says. And then– “Thank you.”

And it’s funny, because the last time Eliott did anything like this, the last time Eliott tried to protect him, it had pissed Lucas off so much he’d yelled at him on the streets of Paris, had burned the blood in his veins, had made him so inordinately angry he’d lashed out.

But this time, this time it’s different. Because standing here, seeing Eliott regard him with a gentle kind of worry, a gentle kind of affection that veers slightly too close to what Lucas wishes he was feeling, it hurts . It sets an ache off in his chest and before he can stop them he feels tears pricking at his eyes.

And god, the last thing he needs right now is for Eliott to see him cry, so he looks up, meeting Eliott’s gaze once who gives him a small, reassuring smile and then he’s pushing past him, muttering a I have to go and running out onto the street.

He shouldn’t really be surprised when Eliott follows him.

Eliott shouts after him, but Lucas keeps his head down, willing his legs to carry him faster, his heart hurting so much that Lucas thinks maybe it’s started to break. But Eliott’s legs are longer than his and he’s determined, so Lucas doesn’t make it very far before Eliott catches up to him.

“Hey, hey,” Eliott says, reaching out and briefly touching Lucas’ clothed shoulder to make him stop. “Are you okay? What did that guy say?”

Lucas stops, and then spins around to face Eliott. “I’m not upset about the guy, Eliott. He was an asshole, but it’s fine. I’m fine.”

He turns to start walking again but Eliott jogs to catch up to him.

“Then what’s wrong?” Eliott asks. “Clearly something’s wrong.”

And Lucas has had enough of this. He can’t do this right now. “Isn’t Lucille waiting for you?” he spits out.

Eliott stops walking. “Lucille?” Eliott asks, something that seems like bewilderment lacing his tone. “Why are you talking about Lucille?

“Aren’t you with her?”

Eliott looks at him incredulously. “No?” He pauses. “I mean, we dated super briefly in high school, but no?” He just stands there, deflated. “Why are you asking?”

Lucas shrugs, turning to face Eliott. “No reason.”

“We broke up when I started getting serious about the whole soulmate thing,” Eliott says, running a hand through his hair. “But I don’t know, I’ve been thinking about that and I’m not sure it makes sense anymore.”

Lucas feels like he might throw up. “ Not being with Lucille, you mean?”

Eliott looks so genuinely confused that something in Lucas’ chest kickstarts. “What? No god, we weren’t right for each other in the end,” Eliott says, his voice shaking, a sincere tenor running through it. “I mean it was good once, but...no, I, uh, I’m never getting back together with Lucille.”

It’s Lucas’ turn to look confused. “What did you mean then?”

“About soulmates,” Eliott says, his voice quiet. He pauses for a moment, eyes searching Lucas’ before he speaks again. “I’m just worried that I might be missing out on something great by focusing so much on it.”

“Okay,” Lucas says, unsure how this has to do with him.

Eliott takes a step closer. “The thing is, I was convinced that a soulmark would be the way for me to know that I deserved love, that the universe wanted me to love,” he says, taking a deep breath. “But, I’ve realized recently that there’s a lot of love in my life that the universe didn’t mark. And it’s still special. To me.”

Lucas doesn’t know what to say. Of course Eliott deserves love, of course people would love him. Lucas is living proof. His heart thuds louder and he just stands there, silent, waiting for Eliott to continue.

Eliott takes another tentative step towards him. “If I’m meant to be with my soulmate, then I will be. But maybe my soulmate is platonic, or maybe I don’t have one at all. And maybe it doesn’t matter. But I’m done waiting.” He looks at Lucas, and there’s something there behind the flashing in his eyes. “What about you?”

Lucas swallows. “What about me?”

“What are you waiting for?”

“You know I’ve never been a fan of waiting on the universe.”

Eliott lets out a small laugh, but it seems to get stuck in his throat and he hasn’t looked away from Lucas, looking at him with an intensity Lucas has never seen before. “And if you didn’t have to wait?” he asks, softly, but Lucas hears every word, his whole body tensing. “If you found someone who would choose you regardless? Would that be enough for you?”

And Lucas can’t do this, his mind is going blank, his brain is shutting down because they cannot be having this conversation, this cannot be what Lucas has been imagining. He has to be understanding something wrong but Eliott is looking at him, really looking at him and Lucas feels like he’s ripped open his chest and laid it bare for Eliott to see.

But then he’s reminded of the worry that’s been plaguing him since his realization. He knows Eliott, knows how this all has been so important to him for so long. But here he is saying it’s maybe not as important as he thought and so Lucas should take that leap, but he needs to know, needs to lay it all out and hear it from Eliott. 

“Would it be enough for you ?” he asks.

“Yes,” Eliott says weakly and without hesitation. “I’m beginning to think so.”

Lucas doesn’t know what to say. Instead he huffs and turns, heading back down the street. He picks up his pace, as Eliott trails just behind him.

“You never answered,” Eliott calls out to him and Lucas feels his heart constrict because this is it, this is an opening Eliott is giving him and Lucas should just take it. 

He turns to look back at Eliott’s face, his mouth frozen in a tentative smile, the corners turned up in the way that makes Lucas’ heart race. 

He opens his mouth and he’s about to answer, he really is: yes, Eliott, that would be enough , when it all happens in very quick succession.

Lucas isn’t paying attention to where he’s going and trips on a loose brick in the sidewalk, pitching forward towards the concrete. He feels Eliott’s strong hand grip his wrist to keep him from falling, to steady him, but the foreign feeling of Eliott’s fingers against Lucas’ skin sets his heart aflame.

Lucas has been doing everything he can to avoid touching Eliott, avoid brushing skin against skin, avoid knowing what they’d be – because he is terrified of the answer. He’s in love with Eliott, he knows, and he’s spent far too many nights in the past week imagining Eliott marking him in shades of red. The idea that he might leave a blue mark on his skin or worse, no mark at all, makes Lucas feel sick. 

And yet, despite all that effort, here he is – finding out if Eliott is his soulmate because he’s clumsy. It’s a bit anticlimactic.

It happens quickly – Lucas falling, Eliott catching him.

And then Lucas hears Eliott inhale sharply. Eliott has pulled Lucas to his feet, but hasn’t let go of his wrist, of the space where their skin is touching for the first time. Lucas can’t turn around, he can’t look. He wants to live in that space of blissful ignorance for just one more second. Just one more second.

“Lucas…” Eliott says, but it’s more of a whisper, so soft and feather-light that Lucas can’t be sure he’s heard it at all. 

“Lucas.” There it is again, firmer. Eliott calling his name. Eliott daring him to look.

And then the anticipation meets with Lucas’ denial and it’s too much really, the not-knowing. So he turns around.

And there, at the space where Eliott’s fingers are grasped around Lucas’ wrist, Lucas sees something spreading across his skin. It doesn’t move far outside of Eliott’s grip, but it’s enough that Lucas can see it there, see the light it’s giving off in the dark night as Lucas and Eliott stand frozen on the sidewalk.

And there’s relief, in Lucas’ heart, because Eliott has left something on his wrist, has made his mark after all. But there’s confusion too. Lucas and Eliott are silent, both of them unable to tear their eyes away from the place that Eliott’s fingers have touched.

“Is that...?” Lucas asks, trailing off, his voice sounding weak and unsure.

“It must be,” Eliott responds. “But I’ve never seen that before.”

Because the shape marking Lucas’ skin is neither red, like the mark of a romantic soulmate, nor blue, like the mark of a platonic one.

It’s gold. Bright, shining, radiant gold.

[animeniacss]

6 Years - Hoseok x Reader - Chapter 20 - Anxiety

Synopsis: 6 years. That’s all it can take to take another look at someone and see that they have completely changed. You were once an eager 20-year-old, with your dreams all in view, and Jung Hoseok at your side to view them with you. However, after a break up the end of your junior year of college, everything seemed different. Now, you’re a recently divorced single mother of two, and your life is nowhere near what you thought it would be. However, after reuniting with Jung Hoseok, you may just be able to capture a little bit of that exciting youth you once knew so long ago.

Feat. BTS Members, Nayeon (TWICE), and Yuna (itzy) 

Genre: Romance, SingleMother!AU, Past Relationship, Drama, Some Depictions of Violence/Domestic Abuse

Length: approx. 4.4k words 

Chapter 20 - Anxiety

           Min Ja may only be five, but that weekend was the worst weekend of her life. Her dad took her and Hyo Bin to the park, and they watched movies and had a fun time, but all Min Ja could think about was what he had told her. That Mr. Hobi moving in meant her Dad couldn’t come back in, and that Mr. Hobi was doing this on purpose? Why would he do something on purpose to make her Dad upset? But…if Dad moved back in, would that mean he and Mommy would be a happy family like he promised, or would they go back to fighting? No, no! She had to trust her Daddy; she didn’t want him to be sad. By Sunday, she spent the entire day in bed, not wanting to get up, no matter how much Hyo Bin and her father tried to lure her out with candy and games in the living room. She stayed in bed until her father had to take her and Hyo Bin back home, before dinner time.

           “Min Ja, are you upset because of what we talked about?” Weong-Bin asked curiously, and his daughter glanced up at him.

           “A little. I want to see you and Mr. Hobi every day, but you said I can’t. That makes me really sad.” Weong-Bin sighed.

           “I’m sorry that makes you sad, sweetie. But if you want Mommy to be happy, it has to be that way. And I can make Mommy really happy, I told you, I worked really hard to fix my mistakes, remember?” Min Ja nodded. “Good.” He held her hand tightly as they exited the elevator and went to your apartment door. Weong-Bin knocked, and it took a minute, but the sound of footsteps headed to the door grew louder before you opened the door. Your hair was a bit messy, and you wore some throwaway clothes that were covered in dust and dirt. Despite your disheveled appearance, you were beaming as you opened the door.

           “Mama!” Hyo Bin shouted in glee, reaching out to hug you. Without missing a beat, you held her tightly and kissed her cheek.

           “Hi, my princess~.” You cooed happily. “Did you have fun with Daddy all weekend?”

           “Uh-huh.” She said. You looked down at Min Ja, who walked up to you as you knelt down to her level.

           “Hi, sweetie.” You smiled, pulling her into a hug. She hugged you back tightly. “I missed you so much.”

           “You too, Mommy.” She said. Once you stood up, you set Hyo Bin onto the floor. Min Ja took her hand and led her into the bedroom so they could put their bags away. When they were gone, you turned to Weong-Bin.

           “She seems to be okay. Did you talk to her?”

           “I said I would.” He smiled a bit. “She spent all day in bed today, though.” He saw you frown. “But she’ll be alright, I think. She’s just a bit confused now, but she’ll come around.” Hearing that made you relaxed a little bit.

           “Thank you.” You said softly. Weong-Bin nodded. “I’ll see you Wednesday, then.”

           “Alright.” He said. “I’ll call the girls later.” As he waved you off, you closed the door and sighed. It was so uplifting, and you hoped that whatever Weong-Bin had said, it would help her feel better. But for now, all you could do was head into the bedroom and help the girls unpack and catch up on their weekend.

           Min Ja seemed to be doing just fine, telling you about what they did with their Dad on Saturday. She was beaming as she talked about it until you asked about what kept her in bed this morning. Her smile fell into a frown, and she pressed her pointer's fingers together.

           “I was just tired, I think.” She said simply. “Daddy said I could stay in bed until we had to come home.” You sighed, smiling a bit as you ruffled her hair.

           “Well, okay then, as long as you’re feeling better now.” Min Ja nodded, resting her head on your shoulder as you rubbed her back. Hyo Bin was sitting with you as well, stacking up some of her blocks. Min Ja sat beside her and took some blocks of her own, putting them wherever she could to help Hyo Bin make a big tower. You smiled a bit, fixing your hair as you watched the girls, happy to have them back with you again. Weekends with Weong-Bin were torturous for you.

           As the three of you sat in the bedroom, enjoying each other’s company, you heard a knock on the door. A loud, high-pitched voice called your name, and the three of you looked up. As you stood up, stretching out your legs, you turned to the kids.

           “Girls, I’m going to get dinner started in a few minutes, okay? Just let me know if you need anything.” Min Ja nodded, both girls turning back to their little block creation as you went to the door. Opening it, you saw Hoseok standing there, panting. It looked like he was drenched in sweat, but he was grinning the minute he opened the door and saw you. “It looks like you ran a marathon. Another long day of rehearsal?”

           “Yeah, my kids love to run me through the wringer.” He said, stepping into the apartment. He went to lean in for a kiss, but you pulled back, smiling as you saw him pout. “Hey.”

           “Go shower first, you stink.” You teased, pushing him playfully into the apartment, “Then I’ll give you a whole bunch of kisses.”

           “Aaah, a whole bunch?” he asked, eyes going wide. When he saw you nod, he playfully hurried towards the bathroom, making you smile slightly. As he passed the bedroom, he saw the door propped open, getting a slight view of the girls occupying themselves with blocks. He stopped in his tracks, propping the door open and smiling. “Hey girls.” He said happily. “What are you doing?”

           “I think we’re making a house.” Min Ja said, looking up at him. “Hyo Bin is in charge this time, so I’m just doing what she tells me.” Hoseok smiled a bit. “…You smell.”

           “Heh…hehe, I just got home from work that’s why. I’m sure Mr. Jimin smells the same way after he dances for 3 hours straight.” Min Ja pursed her lips a bit.

           “…No, Mr. Jimin always smells really good when I give him hugs.” She said. Hoseok laughed a bit, before finally leaving the room and heading to take a shower. While he was showering, and the girls were busy, you began to get started on pasta. You were in the mood for some Western cuisine recently, thinking the change of pace would make everyone happy. You got to work, making some pasta and frying some chicken to mix together in a delicious combination. As you stood by the oven, watching the pasta cook, you heard the sound of the shower turning off and footsteps eventually approaching the kitchen. You kept your eyes on the pasta but saw Hoseok approaching out of the corner of your eye.

           “Mmmmm, I was promised a bunch of kisses~.” Hoseok cooed as he got closer. You looked over to him and smiled. “Now that I’m clean, I plan to get them~.” Without missing a beat, he hurried up to you and pulled you into his arms, making you squeal out in delight, giggling as Hoseok wasted no time peppering you with kisses. It took a few minutes of playful pleading, but you finally got him to back up.

           “I need to finish cooking, you lunatic.” You said with a playful grin, returning to the stove. Hoseok opened the fridge as he shook some leftover water droplets from his hair, leaning down to grab a Sprite from the fridge. Cracking it open, he let out a satisfied hum as he eagerly began to drink the beverage.

           “Did Weong-Bing talk to Min Ja?” he asked curiously.

           “It seems like he did. She seems to be doing okay. He said she stayed in bed today, though. She must be trying to sort it all out in her mind.” Hoseok nodded as he watched you cook. “Which is good, because I want to mention to her that we’ve been talking about moving in.” He smiled a bit, passing you the Sprite so you could take a sip.

           “Do you think she’ll make it okay?” He asked.

           “I think if we word it correctly and be honest, she’ll be okay over time.” You looked at him. “I feel safe knowing that you’re here. I think the girls will too.” Hoseok smiled happily.

           “That means a lot to me.” He said softly. “If you really think it’s the right time, then maybe we could look into-.”

           “NO!” You both heard a child shout from behind you. Looking over, you saw Min Ja standing at the entrance of the kitchen. Her eyes were wide, and they were welling up with tears. It looked like her little body was trembling.

           “Min Ja…” you gasped. Quickly, you turned off the stove and walked over to your daughter. Kneeling down, you blinked. “How long have you been here?”

           “I heard you scream…” she sniffled. “But when I came out here, Mr. Hobi was giving you kisses and you looked happy….” A small smile formed on your lips at first. “But then you said you wanted Mr. Hobi to move in….” she sniffled. “And he can’t, Mommy! He can’t!”

           “Min Ja…” you frowned. “Min Ja, please, calm down.” You soothed gently. “Mr. Hobi is here all the time; you don’t want him to move in and see you every day?” Min Ja was silent at first, but she eventually shook her head.

           “No! No, he can’t! What about Daddy?! What about Daddy? I want Daddy back! Mr. Hobi can’t move in, he can’t!” The next thing you knew, she began to cry in absolute hysterics. You quickly pulled her into a tight hug, rubbing her back as she clung to you, sobbing and begging you not to let Hoseok move in, he couldn’t move in! “P-pleeeeease, Mommy, noooooo.” She sniffled.

           “Min Ja, Min Ja look at me.” You said softly, tilting her chin to look at you. She was still sniffling. “We don’t need to worry about it right now, okay? No need to cry….” You felt your heart shattering with every tear you saw drip down your daughter’s face. How could you even suggest this when Min Ja was not ready? “I would never do anything that makes you sad, okay?” Min Ja nodded, sniffling as much as she could and wiping her nose when it became too much. Hoseok walked over, kneeling down and handing her a tissue. She hesitated, but took the tissue from him and wiped her eyes and nose.

           “…I-I’m sorry…” she sniffled, looking at Hoseok. He only offered her a kind smile.

           “Sorry for what? Don’t be sorry, Min Ja.” he said gently, running a hand through her hair. “Mommy and I don’t want to do anything that will make you and Hyo Bin upset, okay?” Min Ja nodded, and her body finally stopped shaking like a leaf. You pulled her into your arms, giving her another tight hug as you felt her arms wrap around you and nuzzle into you.

           “Do you want to go back inside and rest until dinner?” you asked her gently. “Or do you want to stay out here with me and Mr. Hobi?”

           “I wanna stay with you, Mommy…” she choked. You glanced at Hoseok, who was already getting onto his feet.

           “I’ll finish dinner, then.” He offered, smiling happily. “Go on inside and relax.” After a moment, you let out a soft breath and nodded, standing up with Min Ja in your arms. As Hoseok went back to the stove, turning on the flame and watching the chicken and pasta as it finished cooking, you took Min Ja back into her room. Hyo Bin was standing by the door, eyes cast up at you curiously. The yelling of her older sister must have worried her too.

           “What’s wrong, Mama?” she asked curiously as you stepped into the bedroom. Slowly, your legs gave out and you held your girls tightly in your arms, silence overtaking the three of you for the next few minutes until Hoseok said dinner was ready.

-------------------------

           “I’m so sorry about that.” You said softly, sitting at the kitchen table as you served both yourself and Hoseok some tea. Dinner was silent, and dessert was a bit more talkative, but after Min Ja’s meltdown, the apartment seemed as if it had shifted, and nobody really knew what to say. The girls went to bed pretty much straight away, you even skipped the bath tonight because you just physically couldn’t. Hoseok was sure to keep his distance this time, not joining in reading bedtime stories or saying goodnight. He didn’t want to make Min Ja anymore upset tonight. When you returned, you practically collapsed into his arms.

           “Don’t apologize.” He assured, threading one of his hands through your hair. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

           “Obviously I’m not making this any easier for her.” You said. “I thought she was okay after she put you in that picture, but she wasn’t. I thought she was okay after Weong-Bin talked to her, but she seems to have gotten worse!” You groaned. “Either Weong-Bin fucked up what he said, or he said something that had the exact opposite effect.” Glancing at your phone, you sighed. “I’m going to call him. He’s still up, probably out flirting up his coworkers again.” Hoseok watched as you stood up, grabbing your phone and walking towards the balcony door, pressing the phone to your ear. It rang, and rang, and continued to ring.

           You’ve reached Cho Weong-Bin. Unfortunately, I can’t come to the phone right now. Please le-.

           “Voicemail, of course.” You sighed, hanging up. “I don’t buy that he’s asleep at 7 p.m. I’m calling him again.” You heard Hoseok call out your name, but when he saw you put the phone to your ear, he only chuckled. It rang, and rang, and rang again.

           You’ve reached Cho-.

           “He’s doing this on purpose.” You huffed, hanging up once again and tossing your phone onto one of the counters. You rested your elbows against the counter, your hands pulling at your hair. “I can’t believe I was so selfish. Min Ja is going through all of this and all I can think about is making you move in, even when she’s not ready. I knew this would happen.” Hoseok sighed, finally getting out of his seat and walking over to you. He turned you to face him, untangling your hands from your hair and setting them at your sides. He saw your eyes were watering and he quickly lifted his hand to wipe those tears away. “Sorry…” you said.

           “Jeez, this family loves to apologize to me It’s gonna boost my ego.” You chuckled a bit, resting your head against Hoseok’s chest. You felt Hoseok’s arms wrap around you tightly as if he was trying to squeeze the guilt out of you. “It’ll all happen in time, you know.” He said. “Let’s worry about getting Min Ja to feel better.”

           “Okay.” You said softly, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Want to watch a movie or something to get the depressing air out of this apartment?” Hoseok chuckled, his beaming smile helping heal you already.

           “I’ll go pick one~.” He said giddily, hurrying into the living room. As you watched him, you turned back to the table. Grabbing the tea, you set the empty cups into the sink and filling them with some water and quickly wiping them down. Once they were clean, you headed into the living room and plopped down on the couch. Hoseok plopped himself down beside you and turned off the lights, allowing the glow of the TV to be your source of light.

-------------------------

           You’ve reached Cho Weong-Bin. Unfortunately, I cannot come to the phone right now. Please leave a message after the beep, I promise I’ll get back to you soon. *BEEEP*

           “Weong-Bin, pick up.” You said into the phone, trying to hide your frustration. was already Monday, and you were heading into work still trying, but getting no result since you started last night. He didn’t call the girls Sunday night like he promised, he didn’t return any of the voicemails and texts you had been sending him. “Come on. You can’t avoid me forever; you need to pick up the girls Wednesday.” Though you were reluctant to even send them with him until you had a straight answer, you really had no choice. “Please call me. If I don’t hear from you, don’t think I’m going to let you take the girls Wednesday. I’ll pick them up early.” You a frustrated huff, you quickly closed your phone and stuffed it into your bag. As you passed the doctors and older nurses, you said your hellos before entering the backroom and putting away your belongings. Jungkook was already there, locking up his little locker of stuff he had, and he turned to you.

           “Good morning~.” He said happily. When he saw how annoyed you were, he pouted. “Are you alright? You look awful.”

           “Weong-Bin again. Still won’t answer my calls.” Jungkook sighed.

           “He’s probably guilty. Once, I totally broke my mom’s old vase and the guilt ruined my so bad I hid at my friend's house for a week and didn’t answer the phone.”

           “And what happened?” you asked, amusement in your voice.

           “She was even angrier. But the point still stands, he’s guilty of something.”

           “Trust me, I know. He did the same crap when he was having an affair.” Closing your locker, you shrugged. “But he can’t hide forever.” Jungkook chuckled as the two of you went to the secretary table to prep for the day before the doctor’s office officially opened. You tried to remain focused, but you were getting absolutely nowhere with Weong-Bin. It was bothering you that he wasn’t answering, he must have no excuse, and Jungkook was right, he must be guilty of whatever he did to Min Ja.

           Whatever he did to Min Ja…, just thinking that made you want to put your fist through the table. However, you didn’t know anything. Min Ja wouldn’t tell you what he told her, she would just start crying about it and apologizing constantly. It upset you so much. But there was nothing you could do about it until you heard from Weong-Bin. Your eyes looked up at the clock as you finished wiping down the counters and counting down the hours until you could get off work. You needed to talk to Weong-Bin.

           Work was busy, so before you knew it, the time was flying by. If Jungkook wasn’t on the phone with a customer, you were, and if you weren’t dealing with a patient, then he was. Nurses kept running up to you asking you to push through prescriptions, make copies, and whatever else was needed for the doctor’s sake. By the time 4 hit, you were using a wall to prop you up.

           “Why are my busy days always so brutal?” You asked, opening your locker. Jungkook looked completely unphased, grabbing his stuff and running a hand through his hair. “I’ll never understand how you manage to look as if you’ve been relaxing on a beach all day, every day.” That made Jungkook’s cheeks tint pink and a smile formed on his lips.

           “I have good stamina from working out.” He said simply.

           “Fair enough.” You said. Just as you finished gathering your belongings, you heard the sound of a buzzing coming from your phone. You quickly pulled it into view. “Oh God, please be Weong-Bin.” You begged, pulling the phone up to your face. However, instead of seeing Weong-Bin’s name on the Caller ID, the one time that would ever happen, you were met with the phone number from Min Ja’s teacher. “What the-. Why is the teacher calling me?” You quickly answered the call and put the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

           “Yes, Miss. Cho. This is Mrs. Song, Min Ja’s teacher.”

           “Yes, hi. How are you? Is everything alright?”

           “Yes, yes. Min Ja went home with San-Ha and her mother when the school day ended. This is something different. Uhm, are you free tomorrow afternoon?”

           “Afternoon? Yes, I am. Why?”

           “I wanted to see if you and Min Ja’s father were available to meet with me after school for a meeting.” You felt your heart sink. Oh God, a meeting with her teacher? Was this a good thing? Did Min Ja start acting out in school too? Your mind was racing, and you tucked hair behind your ear as you turned away from Jungkook.

           “Uhm sure! I can be there if you just give me time. I’ll work around my job hours. I’ve just been having trouble getting into contact with my ex-husband, so it may-.”

           “I already called him.” She said. You blinked. “He said he would be free whenever you had the time this week.”

           So, he can call back the teacher but not the mother of his children? Yeah, let’s see that bite him in the ass. You thought to yourself. “Okay, then I can get there right when school lets out.”        

           “Fantastic. I’ll see you then.” You nodded, hanging up the phone and letting out a deep sigh.

           “Everything okay?” Jungkook asked curiously, putting a hand on your shoulder. You glanced over at him and offered a small smile.

           “Min Ja’s teacher wants to have a meeting with me and Weong-Bin.” You said simply. “So, I need to look into leaving a bit early so that I can make it to the school on time.” Waving Jungkook off, you went to hopefully talk to your boss about leaving slightly early the next day. Even after it was approved, and you headed home to your girls after that, you couldn’t help but be worried about what that meeting would hold.

           That night, as you put Min Ja and Hyo Bin to bed, Min Ja pressed her fingers together.

           “Mommy, my teacher said you and Daddy are going to talk to her tomorrow.” She said softly. You nodded, sitting on the end of her bed.

           “That’s right. Mr. Hobi is going to take you and Hyo Bin to the park while we talk.”

           “Did I do something bad?” she asked curiously.

           “I don’t know, did you?”

           “N-no,” she said quickly. “I promise, I didn’t do anything bad.” You smiled, kissing her head gently and rubbing her back.

           “Okay, then don’t worry. Just get some rest for now, okay? Let Mommy and Daddy worry about the meeting.” Min Ja nodded, laying fully in bed as you covered her with the blankets. “Goodnight, honey. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

           “Goodnight…” she said softly. You watched her close her eyes and snuggle deeper into bed as she tried to fall asleep. Once you saw her breathing even out slightly, you snuck your way out of the room.

---------------------

           Weong-Bin was standing outside the school building, arms crossed as he looked at his watch. The school was letting out in 10 minutes, and you had just texted him that you were on your way, having just gotten Hyo Bin from daycare. He didn’t respond, but he got the text. As he looked around, watching people pass on the nearby streets, he was also wondering why he was called to this meeting. Did Min Ja confide in her teacher about what was going on? Has she been acting out? What was she saying or doing to concern the teacher enough to call a meeting? Just as his mind began racing, he heard you calling out to him. Turning over, he saw you walking down the street with Hoseok at your side, carrying Hyo Bin in his arms. He groaned, turning to face you.

           “You were almost late.” He said.

           “Well I had to go pick up Hyo Bin.” You said simply. Weong-Bin sighed, turning back towards the entrance of the school. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Why haven’t you been answering my calls?”

           “I’ve been busy.” He said simply. “My job is demanding, you know.”

           “Oh, please, cry me a river.” You scoffed, putting your hands on your hips. Weong-Bin glared down at you, but before either of you could continue to bicker, the doors of the school let out. Kids began hurrying out of the building, shouting and cheering in glee at the sound of the ending bell. Younger kids would meet with their parents and other friends before heading home, while older kids started going home solo. The three of you didn’t move, watching as the hoard of students began to thin out. As children began dispersing, you saw Min Ja’s teacher. Mrs. Song was a young lady, probably only a few years older than you. She had brown hair pulled up into a tight bun, and wore a pencil skirt with a nice blouse. She was a sweet young woman, who was well-liked by all of her students. When she caught your gaze, she smiled and took Min Ja’s hand. Min Ja looked up from the floor and took her hand, both of them walking towards you.

           “Hello, Miss. And Mr. Cho.” She said happily, shaking both of your hands. “I’m glad you could make it.”

           “Of course.” You said, nodding. “And this is Hoseok, my boyfriend.” When Hoseok introduced himself and shook Mrs. Song’s hand, you saw Weong-Bin clench a fist behind his hand. Glancing down at Min Ja, she looked up at you. “You’re going to go with Mr. Hobi, okay? We’ll come to get you when we’re done.” Min Ja’s wide eyes fell to Hoseok, who offered her a hand and a warm smile, fixing his arm that was holding Hyo Bin.

           “Come on~. We’re going to have some fun.” Min Ja nodded, taking his hand. “We’ll see you guys later.” He said happily. He looked at Mrs. Song. “It was nice to meet you.”

           “You as well~. Take care.” She said happily, watching as Hoseok led the girls down the road to the nearby playground. With them gone, Mrs. Song looked at the both of you. “Shall we?”

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[kalluun-patangaroa]

Suede

SKY magazine, December 1993

written by Simon Witter 

"HELLO! WHAT HAVE WE GOT HERE?!" asks Brett Anderson rhetorically, staring at the fluff he has just removed from his ear. "I haven't taken these earrings off for about nine years."

It may seem an incongruous moment to ask the 27-year-old indie pin-up about his personal style, but hey, that's the kind of guy I am. "Tatty," replies Brett with a wry smile. "I haven't been able to get out and go shopping."

Brett Anderson, frontman of Suede – the British pop sensation of 93 – is hotly rumoured to have a great dress sense. Today however, perched uncomfortably behind an executive desk at the central London HQ of his record company, his head inadvertently framed by a halo of Right Said Fred promotional balloons, he is sporting a navy blue jeans'n'top ensemble he accurately describes as "just anything". Brett has been telling me how he spends most of his time with people who work in shops or are unemployed – "real people, not in the business" – so I presume this boutique bonding provides a clue to his supposed, though temporarily non-evident, style savvy.

"Oh no," he gasps. "Not clothes shops! Most of my friends are in food shops. So I know a good bit of brie when I see it."

The thought of Brett Anderson having, at any point in his life, ever eaten food, conjures images of pigs flapping their trotters as they sail past this second floor window. But we press on with the personal style enquiry.

"I want to change it at the moment," he says. "I'm sick of wearing second-hand things. I used to have a grudge against new clothes because I don't like wearing things that another thousand people are wearing. It's nothing to do with being into clothes from years ago, or tatty clothes at all. I'm quite keen to toy around with my style until I eventually find something, to have clothes made for me. There's never anything, when I go out and look for clothes, that I really love. I've got quite a strong vision of what I want, which would be very, very well fitted things. I don't like baggy things. I like lots of ethnic looks. I really like the Spanish look, that sort of matador thing." By way of explanation, Brett strikes a pose, clicking imaginary castanets above his head. "I like that shape. Prince wears a really brilliant little thing sometimes. When I kept getting my bellybutton out, it was really a desire to achieve that shape more than anything, nothing to do with flaunting my navel."

It's well worth flashing your bellybutton while you still can, I assure him, a rueful hand on my own expanding waistline.

"Yep," he smiles. "Well I can't anymore. Not after that chinese last night."

In May of 1992 Suede released their first single, 'The Drowners'. They had already been on the cover of Melody Maker – before they had a record out – and would grace 18 other British magazine covers over the next year, including the cover of Q on just their second single. Their eponymous debut album, released last March, went straight to No. One in the charts and went on to win the Mercury Prize, and last autumn they released a full-length concert video Love & Poison. At this rate, it will be time for their memoirs by easter.

Within the bizarre, incestuous fishbowl of the British music media, Suede have become almost self-damagingly important. After a couple of wilderness years spent faffing about, finding their feet and being universally loathed, their overnight transformation into the most hyped band in the world was nothing short of miraculous. Yet it created impossibly high expectations of their music. A German friend told me how surprised he was, after long distance exposure to their media glare, to discover how average Suede sounded – a judgment that casual discovery of the first album would hardly have elicited. And while touring America, their support act the Cranberries famously outshone them by an enormous factor when it came to album sales. Yet phase one of Suede's career has been – or appeared to be – so extraordinary, that they are going to be hard-pressed to follow it up with anything similarly momentous.

For now, we have 'Stay Together', a new, epically long single. As a measure of Suede's magnitude in the reality-starved world of British indie pop, I am treated to an absurd preview of the track the day before meeting Brett. Before entering the listening room I am subjected to a bag search to check – I kid you not! – that I'm not carrying a concealed tape recorder.

In LA, the world capital of muso control freakism, I was played U2's Desire, the immediate-follow up to their 15-million selling Joshua Tree album, eons before its release without anyone thinking twice. Yet now, without a hint of humour or irony, I am being treated as if I not only know anyone who cares what the next Suede single sounds like, but would be willing to pay for a tape of it recorded through a leather bag.

After regaining consciousness, I join in the fiasco, insist on a full body search (well, at less reputable establishments you'd have to pay good money for this touchy-feely experience) and am seated. The label boss places two speakers on each side of my head, facing my ears from about 20" away, turns it up LOUD, and begins to do that embarrassing, pseudo appreciative in-chair grooving that only people who work in record companies and recording studios have the gall to indulge in. "It's not pompous," he assures me, "even though it's eight minutes long."

Of course any pop song – as opposed to dance record – that lasts eight minutes is by definition pompous. 'Bohemian Rhapsody' was gloriously, defiantly pompous with a side order of pomposity to go. But, despite the circumstances, 'Stay Together' sounds like a fine, many-hued song, liberally doused with Bernard Butler's life-saving guitar, that is destined neither to win many new fans nor shock the devotees.

"It's about a sense of unrest I feel about the world," Brett tells me the following day, in an ill-advised shot at an explanation. "An attempt to make some sense when everything seems to be going slightly insane. I do get a real sense of impending doom, but not in a depressing way, not like we're all gonna die, let's go and rape people. I feel quite content with it. We're living under some shadow, and I'm not quite sure what it is. It's a bit like the fears I felt when I was growing up, when things were unstable and there was the threat of nuclear war, or the fear that your parents could die of aerosol poisoning."

Brett grew up, together with Suede drummer Mat Osman, in the soulless satellite town of Haywards Heath, between London and Brighton. According to Osman, if they'd been the tea party fops people make them out to be, they would've formed a grunge band. They only wanted to be really glamorous because of their stultifyingly dull working class backgrounds. Some might say that that would lead to the three-Es-a-night, dance-and-forget syndrome, rather than the formation of a glam rock band.

"Hopefully we're not a glam rock band," Brett shudders defensively. "You can escape those surroundings by taking a load of Es and ignoring it. Another way is to create your own myth, to try and become romantic in your own eyes, to create something beautiful out of the rubbish and the shit. It all sounds very Oscar Wilde, but that's the way we did it. None of us were brought up in workhouses, but we haven't had easy lives at all."

Suede claim to be obsessed with fame because they were excluded from it. Yet surely fame is the one classless thing people aren't born into?

"Lots of people are constantly privileged," says Brett, who has clearly spent an unhealthy amount of time pondering the abstract qualities of fame. "If you're born in Soho to rich professional parents, and you've got Jonathan Wotsisname coming round to your house every night to see your father, then you've got this world that you slip easily into. When you're excluded from it there's a desperation, you're desperate to have it. It doesn't come as second nature to you, like professionally famous people who hang out in Beverly Hills. It's not something you're comfortable with, but that mutates it into something far more interesting, a bit prickly and far more creative, because you're not just sitting there lapping it up."

Suede's appearance coincided not unfortunately with the post-Madchester 70s revival. But was their styling something more than just the result of being unable to afford new clothes? Personally, I had thought the emergence of Gary Numan had killed off the idea of anyone ever again wanting to be David Bowie (not to mention Bowie's recent records). Then along came Suede, with their rough guitars, their androgyny and their theatrical singer.

"I never thought of ourselves as '70s," Brett insists. "David Bowie is a genius, but the rest of all that rubbish I always found laughable. As for the clothes, I always thought we looked more 60s than 70s. It's all tied up with this whole kitsch thing, this Magpie and Porridge and rediscovering the culture of British music journalists' youths. Kids of 14 didn't know what anyone was talking about, it was just that the people in power had reached a certain age where they were getting sentimental about their youth and started remembering Magpie. That's all it was, all a complete load of rubbish. As soon as we were aware that this scene was going on, we wanted nothing to do with it."

Brett's voice is a highly variable instrument, perfect and beautiful on slow numbers like 'The Next Life', but occasionally, when he affects that archly operatic Bowie yodel, a whiney, sneering sound like Rik Mayall on speed boring into your brain – absolutely maddening. It goes without saying that his delivery owes much to the most overrated British pop star of the last decade, Morrissey.

"I forced my voice in that way because of how we were born, musically, playing shitholes. It was the only way I could make myself heard. I didn't want to sing in the murmuring way that was the style of the time. I wanted to project my voice, because I was writing songs that I wanted people to hear the words of. I wasn't just writing about fluffy little clouds, which is what everyone was doing at the time. People read into my intonations a theatrical seventiesness, but it was a complete accident."

Overworked as the subject is, it's hard to avoid asking why Brett thinks his androgyny caused such a fuss. It's not the first time it has been done; it's not even the tenth time. Genderless, mincing fops are to classic British pop what hairspray is to American rock, a staple ingredient. Brett, by comparison to most, is pretty tame.

"I don't know," he sighs. "We certainly weren't thinking 'oh let's be androgynous', it's just the way we are. I'm naturally quite an effeminate person – not all the time, I do play on things. I think it was because, at the time, people were so incredibly boring. We had been through five years of the cult of non-personality, and we never wanted to go with the flow. When everyone had their heads down, chugging away, we wanted to twist things a little bit. It's like at school, when you find that something annoys someone, you keep on doing it more and more. And that's what happened really."

A female psychologist wrote recently about the overt sexual expression of pre-pubertal girls at pop concerts, the way in which, amidst the non-contact hysteria of the pop experience, they could sometimes experience their first orgasm. She was, admittedly, talking about a Take That show, but I can't help wondering if it looks like that from the stage to Brett Anderson?

"No, nothing like that," he purrs, "nothing sexual. I always feel like people are putting it on."

Having their first fake orgasm?

"It's a bizarre thing in my head. I know they really like me, but I can't really take it seriously. When I'm onstage, and it's working, I feel like I can do absolutely anything. I feel as though there's no limit, even in the sense that I could fall asleep if I felt like it, because I'm that relaxed. I feel much more comfortable on stage than walking down the street. I could go off into a corner and do a crossword or shave my head. I feel ridiculously relaxed. I really enjoy the power of being onstage. It's to do with the circuit of the flow between the audience and you, when it's an audience willing you to be good. Your own power is an expression of how the audience is feeling, but I can't say I ever feel sexual, even if it looks that way. I think that to call the power purely sexual is to belittle it. When I've been to incredible gigs, it hasn't been a sexual thing, it has been something far more magical than that. "

Brett and Osman came to London in the mid 80s to study, respectively, architecture and politics at UCL and LSE. Suede began after they placed an ad in the NME in 1989, but initial concerts had audiences shouting "Fuck off!", critics calling them effete wankers and record companies running for the hills - a three-pronged invitation to eat shit and die that would have spelt the end for most bands.

"That X factor that made people despise us," muses Brett, "was something we managed to turn around in our favour. It's like being in love with someone, and exactly the same things you adore about them, completely horrify you when you've fallen out of love. We went away and learnt how to write songs, and came back transformed. And those qualities that originally pissed people off, we transformed into something provocative. I think the fact that we went through all that rubbish was a fucking good thing for us. People forget that the Beatles spent five years in Hamburg. No one would touch them in England, cos everyone thought they were an utter load of shit. They spent five years getting it together, suffering a bit and fighting for it."

A typical lyric from those hard years was Brett's line about "shitting paracetomol on the escalator". When they were recently described as chemically saturated, I had assumed more interesting chemicals were involved.

"That's about pure mundanity, being off your face every night and your staple diet coming from your bathroom cabinet. It's a metaphor for a humdrum life, going up and down the London underground, which I spent five years of my life doing."

In many ways this – Suede's poignant soundtracking of new depression Britain – is their strength. But if they are Her Majesty's equivalent of slackers, it hasn't made America any more amenable to their cause. Indeed, despite Brett's avowed loathing of the British character – "negativity, small-mindedness, lack of faith" – there may well be a Britishness about Suede which prevents America from getting the point.

Brett makes the mistake of quoting a Smiths song to me – something about innocence, fragility and trust – forcing me to point out that American audiences don't want to be trusted with something precious, they want to rock out with their cocks out. Evan Dando may wear a dress and pigtails, but the wider American market is notoriously unkeen on sexual ambiguity. Queen were big in America until the early 80s, when Freddie Mercury started appearing in full clone gear. They never toured America again, and didn't have a single hit until after his death (and then only thanks to Wayne's World). In fact, America's association of guitars and manliness make Suede fundamentally unsuited.

"No!" storms Brett. "I don't think we're fundamentally unmanly. All you have to do is come and watch us live. We're about sexuality, power and emotion, things that everybody feels."

Whether or not America is destined to fall for his Morrissey-meets-Larry Grayson stage persona, Brett's much-aired desire to move to America (and less well-known plan to live in Paris) has, for now, been replaced by a much smaller act of bedouinism.

"I've moved from Notting Hill to Highgate," he announces proudly, "from a fashionable place to a place where you're living in the last century pretty much. I was living in a very small flat in Notting Hill and it was driving me insane, I couldn't write and was being bombarded with nonsense all day long. I needed the peace and quiet, and now I have a bigger flat with a studio room in it and I'm writing quite prolifically. It's more serene, there's more space to think. It's quite a beautiful place, but you do feel like you're living in the last century, like you're some sort of oddity, or in a play. You keep going into these odd characters. But it's a great place."

In person, and despite the affectation of much of his thought processes, Brett Anderson is quite charming. An endearing smile – which seems to hibernate when cameras are around – plays constantly around his face, suggesting shared confidences which, to some extent, he delivers. Like so many people cocooned by over-protective minions, he is refreshingly open and approachable. I like him. But he is deeply shocked and incredulous when I paint a picture of the special treatment afforded him by those he works with.

"They treat me with the respect I deserve," he jokes defensively. "I don't have tea with Lenny Kravitz. My best friend works in a chip shop, and that's why I like it, it's a complete escape. One of the beautiful things about being successful is that it can rub off onto your friends as well. Not fame and all that bullshit – the really brilliant thing about being successful is the self-confidence, the sense of life having a purpose, that life is a wonderful thing. You open the shutters in the morning and the sunshine pours through. That sense of vitality about life can completely rub off on your friends. Sometimes it doesn't, it can go the other way, with friends ignoring you cos they think you don't have time for them, but that never happens with your proper friends."

And yet, engulfed in the sweltering perversity of his peer group, Brett has come to hold some pretty crap views, views that seem utterly irrelevant beyond the borders of saddo indie land. He worries about being thought a sell-out, thinks Suede are radically honest because they admit to having ambition – as if people didn't get over all that bollocks a decade ago – and, worst of all, that people don't talk enough about music in interviews. Oh dear!

But, despite all this, Brett's public image remains unshatterably cool. He exudes waves of sultry, sulky hipness. I feel an urge to know what naff items lurk in the corners of Chateau Anderson, his ownership of which will shock Suede devotees to the core. Brett tells me he's been to see Aladdin, listens to jazz music, likes The Orb and Verve and has just bought the new Shamen single. To prove it, he even does his Mr C impression - "Comin' on like a vibe, y'know!". This won't do at all.

"I like Terence Trent D'Arby," he admits, trying harder. "I think he's really good."

It's good, but it's not right.

"I bought Billy Joel's River Of Dreams album. I like that one."

Aha – as Inspector Clouseau used to say – now we are getting somewhere! What about films?

"No, I've got impeccable taste when it comes to films."

No feature length On The Buses video stashed chez Brett?

"No. I have got Crocodile Dundee."

Bingo and Bullseye! So much for impeccable taste.

"Well, my perennial favourite is Performance," he flusters wildly. "I can virtually quote the whole film from start to finish. And there's a brilliant film which I've just discovered called The Shout, with John Hurt, Alan Bates and Susanna York. It's about a man who has spent years in the Australian bush learning the secrets of the bush doctors coming to this ridiculously reserved Cornish village and turning two people's lives upside down. It's like an animal alive within this village, and when he shouts, everyone within a mile radius dies. If Alan Bates' part had been played by Vincent Price, it would've been laughable, but it's incredibly powerful, one of those great lost films."

It's a nice try, but nothing can erase the impression created by Billy Joel and Crocodile Dundee.

[monikafilefan]

In the middle of the night

Mulder shivers, rousing him from his fitful sleep. His eyes roll and immediately his head pounds, sending a wave of nausea through his stomach. He felt like shit all day and finally passed out on the couch shirtless after downing a dose of NyQuil and Motrin. Wincing at the red numbers on the desk clock, he sees it’s 11:20 pm and realizes he’s slept for four hours straight.

Slowly, he rises from the couch and scuffles to the bathroom, his gut clenching the whole way. He barely makes it before he loses all content of his stomach, including the medication. He wipes his mouth, quicky brushes his teeth, and on his way back to the living room, dizziness strikes and his body crumbles to the floor.

“I feel terrible,” he whines, frustrated and shaky. He is so damn weak but manages to get up and make his way back to the couch and flop down, snagging the phone on the way. Minutes later, his breathing slows and darkness consumes him.

---

A car alarm blaring outside of Mulder’s apartment window wakes him with a jolt. He hisses in discomfort while attempting to toss his arms and legs off the side of the couch. But when he lifts his head and strains his muscles, shooting pains throb in his skull and an ache sings deep in his joints. “Ugh...” Mulder grips the table to his right and gingerly pulls himself into a sitting position, causing a loud suctioning sound of his sticky skin along the couch to echo in his head.

It’s now 2:05 am and Man-Flu or not, he’s man enough to admit when he needs a doctor. His doctor. He grabs the phone and shivers again as the chill of the air hits the layer of sweat on his back and head.

Three rings later a sleepy Scully answers. “Mulder?”

“Scully… I’m sick,” he whispers. Mulder knew her well enough to know she would immediately look at the time and sense it was him before answering. Her voice comforts him. And it’s the weekend, he misses her.

“I’m on my way,” she breathes heavily into the mouthpiece and ends the call.

He tries to nod but ends up watching the light of from his fish tank whirl around him and feels his face hit leather before falling asleep again.

---

Scully observes attentively as Mulder sighs, laying his feverish head on his pillow and stills his restless legs. She finally breathes a sigh of relief that the medication she had to force feed him when she arrived is starting to kick in. She tucked the blanket around him snugly and took the time to study his face from above. Trying to memorize every new line, every curve and slope of his nose and scruffy jawline just in case he’s changed in the last couple of days spent apart.

As soon as she tore her way through those elevator doors and into Mulder’s apartment to see him curled up, damp with sweat on his couch, her professional doctor persona took precedence. But now as her hip rests along his rhythmically rising and falling chest, Scully herself can breathe again. Any middle of the night phone call from Mulder set her heart racing, but the moment she heard his weak desperate voice on the other end, she was out of bed and tearing at her silk pajamas before she’d uttered another word.

She ran the backs of her fingers over his forehead and down his cheek tenderly. Her brows furrow at the thought of him needing all of her so much. He needs her not just as his partner, but as his friend, his doctor, and his… well that part, as much as she would like to, just can’t be defined at this point in their relationship.

Emboldened, Scully leans down and brushes her lips to his sweltering temple. Just a touch to ease her underlying ache to taste him. He startles and shivers. Scully slowly moves her body away from his to stand when Mulder’s hand suddenly grasps onto hers and squeezes tight, grunting with his eyes still closed.

“Scully?”

She leans down over him with one hand on the arm of the couch and the other squeezing his hot hand in return. “Hey, it’s me. You have a 104 degree fever.” With her nose a hair's breadth away from his, she tries to soothe his pained expression by circling her thumb across the back of his hand. But his brows knit together as his breath hitches, and his mouth twitches into a grimace. She feels a strong pull of affection deep inside her. “What hurts, Mulder?”

He squeezes her hand harder now and whispers, “my heart.” Scully freezes and instantly lays a hand over his partially exposed chest.

“Your chest hurts?” Her own heart pounds, fearing she may have missed something in her assessment. Scully immediately falls to her knees and feels his body heat radiate into her while she hovers her face over his. His closed eyes seep tears at the corners and they roll down his cheeks. “Mulder?”

“My heart hurts when you’re gone, Scully. Please, don’t leave,” he whimpers.

Oh, God! Her heart hurts now, too.

“Okay, shh... It’s okay, Mulder. I’m not going anywhere,” she entwines their fingers and caresses her other hand along his ribcage in reassurance. For her comfort just as much as his.

She watches while his face relaxes under her touch as he begins to drift back to sleep. “Love you,” he murmurs.

She swallows a gasp and her eyelids flutter shut. Mulder told her that he loves her just two months ago. She couldn’t trust it then—couldn’t believe Mulder’s words and it left her reeling. But this time, she does.

Scully believes.

She wonders if he’ll remember any of this amongst his feverous delirium in the middle of the night. And in that very moment, Scully realizes she hopes that he does.

“Love you, too.”

[thesoftsoobin]

➳ part: 3/?

➳ pairing: taehyung x yoongi

➳ genre: angst (with a happy ending), hanahaki au

➳ warnings: mention of death, non-kinky choking

➳ word count: 8.2k

Read on AO3 or below the cut.  

yoongi was letting sunflowers overtake his lungs, and taehyung had a hard enough time watching him slowly die instead of telling hoseok his true feelings. but taehyung’s own crush was getting the best of him, and life managed to complicate itself even further when he began coughing up flowers, too. and not just any flowers, either. they had to be cherry blossoms, yoongi’s favorite.

“Oh my god,” Taehyung gasped. Jeongguk unlocked the door, and the dorm swirled around Taehyung as he stumbled in after him. With his hands on his frozen cheeks, he squeezed his eyes shut and repeated, “Oh my god.”

He felt numb, partially from the cold air they just spent fifteen minutes running in, but mostly from the panic stabbing its way through him. His chest was tightening by the second, and the flowers weren’t helping any.

“Hey,” Jeongguk turned to face him, placing a hand on his arm and giving it a squeeze through his winter coat. But all Taehyung could focus on was the gym bag hanging off of Jeongguk’s shoulder. “It’s okay. We did a good thing, right? It’ll help him.”

Taehyung nodded and looked away from him, down at his own gloved hands. He tried to hold them still, but they wouldn’t stop shaking.

“Uh…Gguk?” Jimin asked. Jeongguk spun around and immediately turned sheepish.

Jeongguk and Jimin had pushed both of their beds together to make one full-sized bed, fairy lights strung around the headboard, and Jimin was sitting with his legs crossed in the middle of it. He sat up straight as soon as they burst in and was watching them closely.

“I thought you went to the dance studio on Wednesdays.”

“I do,” Jimin said. “But I had to study for the math final. It’s tomorrow, remember?”

The words of Jeongguk’s response blended together, and Taehyung’s heart was still hammering in his chest. He used the opportunity to try to even his breathing while the attention was off of him, tapping his fingers on his thigh and counting back from 20.

Everything was fine, they didn’t get caught, and he was going to help Yoongi live longer.

“Seriously, what’s going on?” he thought he heard Jimin whisper, and he opened his eyes. Jimin was tiptoeing over to them, his concerned eyes set on Taehyung before they flitted back to Jeongguk. “You stole the oxygen tank, didn’t you?”

Taehyung’s heart rate picked back up. It was that obvious?  

“No, of course not,” Jeongguk said.

“So, if I looked in that gym bag, I wouldn’t find an oxygen tank?”

“Okay, fine. Listen, babe,” Jeongguk said, and Jimin lifted his eyebrows, “you guys said doing the surgery would be a bad idea, which, you know, fair. But Tae said he was down for this, so,” he slipped his hands into his coat pockets and shrugged, “yeah, there’s a stolen oxygen tank in my bag, along with a regulator and a few cannulas.”

“Jeon Jeongguk,” Jimin said, reaching behind Taehyung to slam the door shut. The sound made Taehyung jump, and he sucked in another breath and covered his face with his hands again as if breathing into his gloves would make it easier. “You might want to stop talking so loud.”

“Park Jimin,” Jeongguk said. “You said it first.”

Their voices still sounded like faint echoes, and Jimin’s arm wrapping around Taehyung’s shoulders only made him startle again.

“I whispered it,” he said. “Also, you’re an idiot. Tae, everything’s okay. Alright? You’re safe.”

Taehyung nodded into his hands, but the panic was disrupting the cherry blossoms in his lungs, and he had to lift his head to start coughing. At the very least, the room was beginning to stop swirling as he alternated between the gasps of a panic attack and the coughs of yet another episode of his disease.

“I’ll get him water,” Jeongguk said, dropping the gym bag onto the bed before slipping out into the hallway. Jimin led Taehyung to sit down at his desk chair and gave him a garbage can to start spitting blood-stained pink petals into.

“Were you really down for it?” Jimin asked. “Or did he talk you into it like he usually does?”

“It was—” Taehyung cleared his throat, coughing once more and producing three more petals. He shook his head. “I wa-wanted to do it. I had the idea before he even brought it up.”

He sighed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He was starting to sweat through his jacket, but he hardly had the time to talk before he started coughing again, let alone unzip and shrug off his winter coat.

“I just didn’t—I’ve never done anything like that.”

“Did an alarm go off or anything?” Taehyung shook his head. “Try not to worry, then. Everything you got can’t cost more than thirty thousand won.”

“Mm,” Taehyung mumbled with his head in the trash can. “I guess.”

He felt Jimin poke him in his shoulder, “And at least invite me next time, especially if the next step is grand theft auto.”

Taehyung lifted his head to see Jimin giving him a playful grin, the one he always used to try to make Taehyung laugh. And he tried to laugh, he really did, but it ended up sounding more like another sigh.

“I just want Yoongi—” More coughs, more petals. “I want him to be okay. Why doesn’t he get to be happy? Why don’t I—”    

And he was cut off yet again by the floral arrangement in his lungs. There was the click of the door opening and closing and Jeongguk tossed a water bottle over to Jimin, who placed it delicately on the desk beside Taehyung.

“Have you thought any more about telling him?” Jimin asked, and Taehyung couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

He understood now why Yoongi got so annoyed with him. It really was pointless to let yourself get rejected when you knew that’s what the outcome would be, and having others try to get your hopes up about it only made it worse.

Maybe resigning himself to death without doing anything about it seemed stupid or pessimistic from the outside, but if that was the only possible end to all of this, why would he even bother?

He let himself be sent into another fit of coughs, rough and tortured enough to hopefully make Jimin forget his question.

Once his lungs finally stopped seizing some 20 minutes later, he uncapped the water bottle and let the cold water burn the back of its throat on its way down. It was best he got back to his dorm before, well, before the whole theft was rendered pointless.

The thought made him choke again, and another flower petal found its way into his lap. He tried to stand but found himself falling right into Jimin, who hadn’t left his side. Jimin gripped his shoulders tightly as he staggered backward.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and Taehyung nodded with his eyes closed. Even so, he felt Jimin’s worried gaze on him. “You should stay a while and relax. We could catch up on One Piece since we’re like five seasons behind.”

“No, I…I should get going,” Taehyung opened his eyes and tried to stand up straight. “Yoongi’s been really depressed since everything with Hoseok. I don’t want to leave him much longer.”

Jimin watched him for another moment before letting out a sigh. “I’ll walk you, then.”

He bundled up in his bomber jacket and sat beside Jeongguk on their bed to pull his boots on, and Jeongguk leaned back on his hands to frown at Taehyung. “If anything happens, I’ll take the blame. We don’t want you dying in prison.”

He let out an ‘oof’ as Jimin smacked him in the chest with the back of his hand, but Taehyung cracked a small smile. “Thanks, Gguk,” he said, holding out his palm. Jeongguk glanced at it and up at Taehyung before, for the first time in a year, they did their secret handshake.

“I’ll text you when I’m on my way back,” Jimin pulled the gym bag up on his shoulder and gave Jeongguk a quick kiss on the cheek. Jeongguk leaned into it and looked up at Jimin with a soft fondness that Taehyung couldn’t help but feel bitter about. Even with his feelings for Jimin gone forever, his longing for love remained, and it was a wish that was going to die with him. “Be ready to be quizzed on statistics formulas.”

“Aye aye,” Jeongguk saluted playfully, but even he had worry in his eyes as he watched them leave.

The walk to Taehyung and Yoongi’s dorm was quiet, save for Taehyung clearing his throat every so often. It was perpetually sore at this point, but he mostly did it as an awkward way of filling the silence.

As he leaned against Jimin, arm hooked in his, he knew Jimin wanted to press the matter further. Tell Yoongi, he could hear him thinking. You never know what could happen.

But he didn’t say a word until they stopped outside of the dorm and he passed the bag to Taehyung, who bowed under its weight. Jimin brought his hands up to warm Taehyung’s cheeks, his own cheeks flushed under his fluffy white hat, and Taehyung looked down at his feet.

“You’re my best friend, Tae,” he said, and everything Taehyung knew he was thinking was behind those five words. Do something. Don’t make me miss you, was among them most of all.

The light was on when Taehyung unlocked the door to his dorm, and Yoongi was surprisingly awake. He sat up in his bed with a comic book in his lap, and his tired eyes followed Taehyung as he shook his boots off in the doorway.

“Where’ve you been?” he asked, voice hoarse. It was dark out, and the twenty minutes Taehyung was coughing up flowers may have been more like 45, now that he’s looking at the clock.

“Art studio,” he lied. “My portrait for painting and drawing is due Friday.”

He didn’t know why he said it. He was about to pull out the very oxygen tank he and Jeongguk stole and present it to Yoongi like a gift, anyway. But he looked at Yoongi, at his pale skin and dark circles, at his thin frame beneath the sheets, and he wondered if maybe he could pass it off as something they got by more honest means. He didn’t want to stress him out any more than he already was.

“Did, um,” he started, setting the bag down gently on his bed. His entire body, still weak from before, sighed in relief once the weight was lifted. “Has Hobi talked to you yet?”

“Not since I told him,” Yoongi said, and he groaned a bit as he shifted in his bed. “Joonie said Hoseok thinks if he keeps his distance, I have more of a chance of getting better.”

“Is he right?”

“Does it look like it?”

In the past couple of weeks, Yoongi had only gotten worse. He’d longed for Hoseok to break the distance and talk to him again, the sudden radio silence from his best friend keeping him awake at night. He choked up whole sunflower after whole sunflower into the trash, and his throat was too raw to eat much more than beef broth. Some days, it was a wonder how he was still alive.

Taehyung averted his eyes, and Yoongi quickly changed the subject.

“Since when do you go to the gym, Taehyungie?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s,” Taehyung glanced at the bag on the bed behind him, “it’s Jeongguk’s. He let me borrow it.”

“You’re only starting to make sense,” Yoongi said, a small playful grin on his face despite his condition, despite the entire situation at large.

Taehyung met his expectant gaze and was out of time to come up with a lie. The question about Hoseok was a way to gauge Yoongi’s mood and to see how he might react to more stress, but the difference in the way he responded to that and the way he was teasing Taehyung now only made it harder for Taehyung to think. He had no clue where else he could have gotten an oxygen tank without going to the doctor.

So, he stammered, “I got you something,” and turned around to unzip the bag. The zipper snagged, and he let out a heavy sigh, tapping his foot on the tile floor. It was stupid to break the law to get this, especially when he had no clue how to use it. Yoongi was going to think he was so stupid.

“You…got me something?”  

When Taehyung faced Yoongi again, he was sitting up at the edge of his bed and leaning forward to look. “It’s, ah, well,” Taehyung rung his hands and decided to just bite the bullet. Maybe Yoongi wouldn’t ask how he got it. He slid the tank from the bag and set it at his feet. “Since you refuse to go to the doctor.”

He had to physically force himself to look at Yoongi, and when he did, Yoongi was giving the oxygen tank a once-over with that playful grin still on his face.

“Did you steal this?”

Taehyung opened his mouth to deny it but was rendered absolutely speechless. “Wh—Why would you—”

“First of all, I know you, Taehyungie. Better than you think,” Yoongi said, and Taehyung shut his mouth. He did? “Every time we finish arguing about the doctor, you have this look on your face like you’re determined to find alternatives.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean—”

“Second, I know Jeongguk,” he said. “And he tweeted ‘007 time baby, do do dodo, do do dodo,’ two hours ago. I’m just connecting the dots.”

Taehyung blinked. He should have known Jeongguk would tweet that, with the way he was singing it the entire walk to the nursing building.

“I know it was stupid, but—“ he started, just so he could say it before Yoongi.

Yoongi cut him off, though, voice still light and teasing. “You know you can buy them on Amazon, right? For like 50 thousand won.”

“What?”

“They ship empty, but if Jeongguk is friends with those nursing majors, they’d probably find a way to fill it for him.”

“Okay Detective Min,” Taehyung started to relax. Yoongi wasn’t mad or stressed; he was more resigned if anything, as if this wasn’t actually happening and was one big joke. Taehyung would have liked it to be, so he played along. “If you’re so smart, help me connect the dots on how this thing works.”

“Suddenly the sunflowers have eaten my brain matter,” Yoongi gave a wide, gummy smile this time. He fell backwards into his bed with his legs still hanging off the edge, and he let out a groan that was somewhere in between real and exaggerated.

Taehyung watched the way Yoongi’s shirt rode up and revealed just an inch of his torso, but Yoongi pulled his hand away from his face too quickly. Panicked, Taehyung took the regulator and a cannula from the bag and knelt on the ground beside the oxygen tank.

He did all he knew to do, pulling up YouTube and searching ‘how to use an oxygen tank.’ Somewhere within the course of the 6-minute video, Yoongi ended up on the floor too, hunched over with his chin in his palm, watching Taehyung try to figure it out.

“So, he says this goes--” Taehyung mumbled, sliding the regulator onto the tank. “Wait.” He leaned back over his phone and restarted the video, biting down on his bottom lip and trying to put all his focus into what he was doing and not on the way Yoongi was watching him.

“At this rate,” Yoongi said, shifting his chin into his other hand, “I’m going to die before you get it set up.”

“Don’t say that,” Taehyung breathed out, but Yoongi was laughing at him. “You know random facts about everything. Don’t you know anything about this?”

“Oh, I do,” Yoongi said. “It’s just fun watching you try to figure it out.”

Taehyung cleared his throat, his cheeks burning, and he forced a grin as he shook his head. Yoongi did end up helping him eventually, once he spent ten minutes trying to figure out how to unscrew the tank’s valve. But he mostly did it himself, and as he took the nasal cannula out of its packaging, he made a hasty decision to keep doing it all for Yoongi.

He hooked the tubing up to the tank and fumbled with it, turning it over in his hands. And there, on the tile floor of their tiny dorm room, he scooted over and reached out to put it on Yoongi.

“Ah, so if it’s--um, if it’s anything like the dramas…” he said, pulling his arms back for just a second. “I think it just…”

Yoongi’s shoulders sagged, and he let out an awkward chuckle.  “I can--I mean, you don’t have to--”

He put a light hand on Taehyung’s arm but immediately went still as Taehyung pressed the cannula into his nose. Taehyung brushed his hands over Yoongi’s cheeks and hooked the tubing over his ears, holding his breath the whole way through.

The thing was, Yoongi wasn’t the touching type. He and Taehyung had never hugged or even been this close to each other in the year and a half that they’d known each other. With each second that passed, he fully expected Yoongi to push away and finish putting it on himself.

But he didn’t. He let Taehyung touch him, and for the briefest of moments, Taehyung thought he saw a glimmer of what wasn’t there. They looked at eachother, Yoongi’s eyes heavy-lidded with exhaustion and Taehyung’s hands still on either side of his face, and he thought he saw a glimmer of hope.

But as soon as it was there, it was gone. So fast that Taehyung knew it was his own illness clouding his vision.

He pulled his hands back and jumped up before he could give himself away. He could practically feel the flowers growing in his lungs, his chest getting heavy.

“So, that should be good!” He said, his voice a pitch higher than it should be. “I hope it’s okay. The guy in the video said too much oxygen could be really bad, so I set it on one of the lower flow rates. But, uh, I don’t know. You really should see a doc—“

“It’s fine, Tae,” Yoongi said, gazing up at him from the floor. Even now, with the cannula draping his face and the sickness taking over every inch of his body, he looked so handsome. So cool, like the first day they met. “If I have to die, it’d be kind of cool to die at the hands of the thing meant to keep me alive.”

“Would you stop talking like that?” Taehyung whined. Yoongi held out his hand for him to help him up, and although he winced the entire time it took him to stand, he still chuckled.

“I’m just joking.”

“Well, it’s not funny.”

Yoongi’s smile fell and what looked like confusion overcame his features. He started to pout, and they met eyes, his searching Taehyung’s for some reason. Taehyung could feel him getting ready to ask why it upset him so damn much, and he instantly thought of what Jimin said.

He could easily lean in and kiss Yoongi right then, explain all of the times he had seemingly overreacted or cared far too much. He could take his chances before it was too late, and see if the odds of Yoongi reciprocating before he inevitably died were in his favor.

He just had to work up the nerve.

Before he could make any decision at all, though, Yoongi’s features softened. He shifted his weight and cleared his throat, wincing again. “Agh, sorry,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head. “Hey, um...you don’t usually go home for winter break, do you?”

Taehyung snapped himself back to reality. “No,” he said. His family had stopped celebrating Christmas after his grandma died, and his parents started taking a long vacation during the holidays when he went to college. “No, I stay here. It’s kind of nice.”

Yoongi glanced down at the oxygen tank and then back up at Taehyung, taking a deep breath. It sent him into another fit of coughs before he could speak again.

“Would you, ah,” he started, voice rough now, “would you mind coming home with me? To Daegu?”

“Oh,” Taehyung let out involuntarily, taking a step back. He was so distracted by his thoughts, he didn’t even consider where Yoongi was going with that.

“It’s just that, well,” Yoongi sighed before he began to stammer, “I have to tell my parents, and it’s stressing me out. Joonie usually stays here too, but he’s going home with Seokjin this year, since they’re apparently dating now. And I’m not even sure I can make it to the train station by myself, if I’m being honest.”

“They’re dating?” Taehyung asked. He could have seen that outcome to Namjoon and Jin’s 7-year-long friendship from a mile away. When he first met them, he thought they were already dating. The question was only to give him more time to process Yoongi’s request.

Jimin asked him to come home with him for Christmas a few days ago, just like he did last year. And just like last year, Taehyung insisted that he’d be fine on campus by himself. He didn’t want to impose, and he needed time alone to process everything that was happening.

But this was...this was Yoongi. And the last time he declined the offer from the person he was growing flowers for, Jimin came back to their dorm with the news that he had a crush on Jeongguk. That they spent the entirety of winter break texting and he thought Jeongguk might have been flirting with him and Wasn’t he just so cute, Taehyungie? He shouldn’t make that mistake again, no matter how slim his chances are.

“Yeah. Namjoon coughed up like two daisy petals before Jin hyung found out and kissed him or whatever,” Yoongi said, and he laughed humorlessly to himself. “I guess I’m the one who drew the short straw in this friend group.”

His weak smile fell again, quickly, before Taehyung could even say anything.

“Well, I guess you did too...with Jimin and everything,” Yoongi shifted again. He plopped down onto his bed and shook his head. “You have a second chance though, you know? A guy in your one of your art classes or something. I’m happy that you get that at least.”

“Hyung…” Taehyung started. This was his opening, as clear as day, to just say it and see what happened. It couldn’t be any worse than what was bound to happen anyway.

Hyung, you are my second chance.

But he couldn’t get himself to speak, not before Yoongi continued, and the opening that was there disappeared in an instant.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Yoongi said. “I know. I’m being depressing again. Uh...so, will you? Come to Daegu with me?”

Taehyung took a breath, shaking the possibilities out of his mind, and he felt the petals of another cherry blossom creeping their way up his throat.

His own interests aside, this was the only time throughout this whole thing that Yoongi had asked anything of him. He’d been so stubborn, so himself, and now here he was stumbling over his words, asking Taehyung for the support he’d already been trying to give him. So what was he supposed to do, say no?

“Of course, Yoongi hyung,” Taehyung choked out. There was a petal in his mouth now, accompanied by the metallic taste of blood, and he bit down and tried to swallow it back down. “Anything you need. Of course I will.”

“Thanks, Taehyung-ah.”

Taehyung gave a curt nod and side-stepped toward the door. His chest was getting more and more congested, and if he waited any longer, he’d cough a flower up onto Yoongi’s feet.

“I have to pee,” he said. “I’ll, uh, I’ll be right back.”

-

For the rest of finals week, Yoongi continued to crack jokes from his bed, some hilarious but most of them tasteless, while Taehyung studied or worked on projects. Despite being too out of it to take any of his own exams, Yoongi kept a brave face.

The vulnerability that made itself known on his face when asking about Daegu didn’t show up again until the day they were supposed to leave.

Yoongi tapped his foot on their dorm floor, his suitcase and oxygen tank on either side of him. “I have to sit down,” he said, taking a few steps to fall onto his mattress. His breathing was loud and heavy as the oxygen flowed through the cannula.

He spent all of his limited energy on making his bed, protesting every time Taehyung offered to do it for him, and spent a whole twenty minutes straightening his comforter. Now that the guys were on their way over, he could barely stand.

“Are you okay?”

“It’s--I’m fine,” Yoongi waved him off, but he was struggling to catch his breath. “Everyone is--” he swallowed, before letting out a few dry coughs. “Everyone is still coming over?”

“Yeah.”

“And you didn’t tell them I’m practically on my deathbed, right? Namjoonie is the only one who knows?”

Taehyung hesitated. “Yes, but hyung, I think it’s pretty obvio--”

“This is going to be like any other goodbye before break, okay?” Yoongi said, voice rising. It was still quiet, his throat too destroyed to even speak normally, but he was getting as loud as he could. “I’m not attending my own fucking funeral, Tae.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung nodded and pulled out his phone. “I said, and I quote. ‘Me and Yoongi hyung are leaving for Daegu soon, please come by the dorm if you can! We want to see all your pretty faces before break.’ And everyone said they’d be on their way soon like a half hour ago.”

Well, everyone except Hoseok. But Taehyung wasn’t going to say it unless Yoongi asked.

While he had his phone out, Taehyung opened up his group chat with Jeongguk and Jimin.

From: Taehyung

In: two soulmates and their child

Sent: 14:34, Dec. 13

please please please please act like you don’t know Yoongi hyung is dying please I promised him I wouldn’t tell anyone

He never got a reply, and a light tapping on their dorm door less than a minute later told him exactly why. His eyes fluttered closed as he pulled it open. Great. He was going to upset Yoongi even more.

“Hyung-ah!” Jimin’s voice rang through their room as he bounced inside, Jeongguk trailing in after him.

“Jiminie,” Yoongi pressed his lips into a smile, and Taehyung could tell he was trying not to wince. “How did your finals go?”

“Good, good,” Jimin said. “I think I failed statistics, but that’s for future Jimin to worry about. Did your Ethics exam go okay?”

Jimin sat down beside Yoongi, and when he and Taehyung met eyes, Taehyung was able to let out a breath of relief. He read his text after all.

“I, uh, I think I failed that too,” Yoongi lied, chuckling lowly. “But who needs ethics? Everyone knows anarchy would be superior.”  

“That’s a debate we’ll save for another time, hyung,” Jimin patted Yoongi’s leg, and damn, he was good at this. He paid no mind to the oxygen tank on the floor or the tubing snaking its way up and around Yoongi’s face. As far as he was concerned, it wasn’t there.

Jeongguk, however, was the complete opposite. He pushed his long hair out of his face to reveal bloodshot eyes, hopefully only to Taehyung. His gaze kept flitting to the oxygen tank he stole, and he wasn’t saying a word.

“Gguk,” Taehyung said, and it only served to startle him.

“Huh?”

“Did Namjoon hyung tell you if they were--”

Another knock at their door cut him off before he could finish his question, this one heavy and rhythmic. Taehyung opened it again, hoping Hoseok was accompanying them, but it was just Jin and Namjoon in their winter coats.

Yoongi seemed to have been thinking the same thing, face brightening at the knocking only to darken when he counted two instead of three.

“Is Hobi coming?” he asked, which to be fair, would have been a normal question a few months ago.

“He, uh,” Namjoon was in the middle of taking his coat off, and he looked to Seokjin for help, eyes wide.

“He had to say goodbye to...someone else first,” Jin supplied, and Taehyung could see him squeeze Namjoon’s arm from behind. “But he should be here soon.”

The hush that fell over the room was proof enough that everyone knew what Yoongi desperately didn’t want them to, and they knew enough to guess what it all meant. Hoseok had stopped growing cherry blossoms, while sunflowers continued to take over Yoongi’s lungs.

Namjoon took his phone out and sent a text, hopefully to Hoseok.

“I can’t believe you got Taehyung-ah to come home with you for Christmas!” Jimin was the first to break the silence. “He always tells me he’d rather stay here. Alone. Instead of coming with me. It’s so annoying.”

Yoongi shook off whatever thoughts he had running through his head, and he looked at Taehyung. His expression turned foolish, the way it had been all week every time he’d tease him.

“Yeah, I had to practically beg him,” he said. “He’s so stubborn.”

“What are you talking about?” Taehyung whined. “I said yes right away.”

“Oh,” Jimin leaned back, mocking disdain. “So you’ll say yes right away to him but not me, your platonic soulmate? Okay.”

“I thought I was your platonic soulmate,” Yoongi said, despite Jimin never having said that to him in his life.

“You know what, Yoongi?” Jimin said. “At this point, you just might be.”

“As long as the word platonic is in front of it, I’m cool with whoever,” Jeongguk added despite the frown he was still wearing.

“You guys are so mean.”

Everything started to fall back into normalcy, or at least as normal as it could get with everyone but Hoseok there and the hint of death lingering over them like a shadow.

Jin ended up beside Yoongi, telling him about some American recipe he found on Naver the day before, and how Yoongi will ‘have to help him make it when they get back from break.’ Meanwhile, Namjoon was showing Taehyung photos from a Surrealist art exhibit he went to for his Humanities class and expressively telling him the stories behind each painting and its artist.

Every so often, Yoongi would butt in to say Namjoon was ruining the post-finals vibe with his academic art history talk, which made it easier for Taehyung to focus on Namjoon’s words. If Yoongi was still teasing, that meant he wasn’t folding into himself, and Taehyung didn’t have to keep checking on him.

Jeongguk had his face buried in Jimin’s shoulder, leaning forward so much that they both wavered and stumbled around. Taehyung could hear him sniffling and mumbling sad words, but every third sentence, he’d lift his head and kiss Jimin’s neck or jaw. Jimin was rubbing Jeongguk’s back under his shirt, and to the untrained eye, it would appear to be the same type of PDA they always did when Jeongguk was stressed about grades or petty family drama.

It was normal. As normal as it could be. Until there was another knock at the door.

Hoseok was flushed, with swollen cherry-red lips and a fleece headband over his ears. Yoongi instantly brightened upon seeing him, as though all of his energy was replenished by the mere sight, and Taehyung realized he didn’t stand a chance.

“Sorry I’m so late,” he said, pulling his headband off as he took a step through the door. He managed to look everywhere but Yoongi, from Jimin and Jeongguk’s connected bodies, to Namjoon’s phone, to Taehyung’s heavily rising and falling chest.

“You’re here!” Jimin exclaimed, still playing the nothing-is-wrong part well. He was now hanging off of Jeongguk, who kept his hair in his face and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

But the greeting came a moment too late, just as Hoseok let himself look at Yoongi. He took everything in, seeing what Taehyung saw every day for the first time, and it was like something shattered in him. All brightness left him upon seeing the oxygen tank and Yoongi’s frail body slumped over.

“Hobi,” Yoongi whispered, starting to cough, “I’m--Thanks for--”

“You told me you thought he was getting better,” Hoseok broke his distraught gaze to snap at Namjoon. The thin cloak of normalcy was now gone. “What the hell, Joon-ah? He’s fucking dying.”

“I’m right here,” Yoongi bit out. “I told him to say that. I didn’t want you to--I didn’t want you to w--”

His coughing became more violent, and Hoseok took a step back. As Hoseok’s eyes filled with tears, Yoongi spit out three yellow petals onto his bedspread.

“I-I can’t,” Hoseok took another step back, widened eyes set on the petals. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.”

The coughs turned into choking, and Hoseok escaped out the door. With four boys rushing to help Yoongi, Taehyung took after him. He was quick, nearly out of Taehyung’s sight already, and it wasn’t until they reached the stairwell that Taehyung caught up to him.

“What are you doing?” he asked. Their footsteps echoed over the walls as he took two steps at a time to keep up.

“My best friend is dying because of me, Taehyung,” Hoseok finally stopped when they reached the ground floor. “I can’t just watch that happen and pretend like it’s not my fault, or-or like it’s not happening. He’s dying because of me.”

“So you’re just going to leave?” he asked. “You’re just going to keep avoiding him like a coward? Like you’ve been doing for the last week and a half, and let him die without doing anything?”

“What am I supposed to do?” Hoseok asked. “If I could force myself to see him that way, I would. He’s like a brother to me, and I’d do anything for him, but there’s nothing I can do to stop any of this. I can’t handle it.”

A group of girls came cascading down the stairs, talking loudly amongst themselves in their peacoats and earmuffs. Taehyung was getting so frustrated that he hardly noticed the odd looks they gave him as he side-stepped out of their way.

“So you pretend,” Taehyung desperately spat out. “The disease thrives off of your perception. If he thought you loved him like that, it would at least slow the growth, wouldn’t it? You have to do something.”

“It doesn’t work like that, Taehyung, and you know it.”

“You could at least try.”

“I can’t lie to him, and as soon as he realized the flowers weren’t clearing up, he’d know it wasn’t real.” Everything he said made sense, but Taehyung couldn’t help but see it as one excuse after the other. “It would just hurt him more. And besides, I...I’m dating Jackson now.”

Taehyung clenched his fists, and red hot anger started swelling in his gut. His head was spinning.

He had a million feelings: anger toward Hoseok, love for Yoongi, worry for Yoongi, and fear for his own life. Usually, they all swirled around inside of him and he couldn’t pick one out to focus on if he tried.

But now, he threw himself into his anger. It was the one thing that his love and worry and fear came together to be, so he raised his voice and used it as a catharsis.  

“Jackson? Like Jackson Wang?” he asked. “So you’ve been right across the hall this whole time? All week? While he was dying behind our door and waiting for you to text him back.”

Hoseok pulled his head back, eyebrows coming together.

“He could have heard you! He probably did!” The back of Taehyung’s throat began to tickle, but he went on, unable to stop himself. “No wonder he’s been getting so much worse. You care more about getting laid than doing anything to help him.”

“Wh--no, Taehyung. No, I wouldn’t do that.”

Taehyung crossed his arms and his breathing started to get heavier as he seethed. “Well, I wouldn’t put it past you at this point.”

“What the hell is your problem?” Hoseok asked. “I know you and him are close, but I’m your friend too, and you’re doing nothing but make me feel worse for something completely out of my control.”

Hoseok’s question and the flower petals coming up Taehyung’s throat brought him back down to Earth. He covered his mouth with his arm and tried to hold back, but he started coughing before he got the chance to give Hoseok an excuse for his outburst. And while he turned away from Hobi, so many petals spilled into his hands that he couldn’t possibly hide them.

“Wait,” Hoseok said with caution while Taehyung gagged. “Tae, do you…”

Taehyung shook his head and pushed past him into the dorm lobby to find a trash can. Multiple petals fell out of his cupped hands and onto the carpet behind him, and Hoseok trailed after him.

If he could breathe, he’d be panicking about someone that wasn’t Jimin or Jeongguk knowing about this. But all he could focus on was getting all of the petals out of his lungs before he fainted.

Luckily, or unluckily depending on how he looked at it, he’d already spit up flowers just a few hours earlier. Most of what he had left in him came up in the first few coughs, and he was standing up straight with a clear esophagus in mere minutes.

“Taehyung-ah, were those cherry blossoms?” Hoseok asked. When Taehyung didn’t answer, trying to catch his breath with his eyes squeezed shut, Hoseok reworded his question. “Taehyung-ah, are you...are you in love with Yoongi hyung?”

Taehyung opened his eyes, a blush surely dusting his cheeks and his stomach turning. His secret was exposed, and it was going to be passed along to Namjoon and Seokjin, and eventually to Yoongi himself. He felt like he may actually throw up.

“Just leave it, hyung,” his voice cracked as he muttered. He tried to push past Hoseok again to get back to the stairwell, but he stumbled and Hoseok grabbed his arm. Against his wishes, Taehyung’s eyes welled up with tears.

“Tae, I’m really sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Taehyung said. He pulled his arm from Hoseok’s grip, but lost his balance again and Hoseok placed his hands on either of Taehyung’s shoulders to steady him. “You can’t do anything to stop any of this, remember? So just go invite Jackson to your apartment or whatever you’ve been doing.”

He finally successfully removed himself and took sweeping steps toward the stairs, but Hoseok stayed on his tail.

“I stopped talking to Yoongi because I thought it was the only way to fix it,” Hoseok said. “I thought not seeing me or hearing from me would, I don’t know, help him get over me.”

Taehyung’s feet dragged with each step he took, throat burning from the strain of coughing up petals and holding back his tears, and he squeezed his hand around the railing to start climbing the stairs.

“Ghosting my best friend was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. You have to understand.”

Taehyung sighed, stopping with one foot on the first step. He needed someone to blame, but he knew, even still, that none of this was really Hoseok’s fault. That if put in the same position, he’d probably do the same.

So he turned halfway to face him and said, “So talk to him.”

When they returned to the dorm after Hoseok’s reluctant agreement, the pre-break farewell had turned into exactly what Yoongi didn’t want it to be. The room was overwhelmed with a depressing aroma cocktail of pungent blood, sweet sunflowers, and the stale heat coming from their radiator, and Yoongi lay in his bed with everyone surrounding him.

Jin was propping up his head with another pillow, while Namjoon held his hand and begged him in a high-pitched whisper to make it back for spring semester so that they could write that song they always talked about.

“No shit, Joonie,” Yoongi rasped. “You think I’d die before we wrote the biggest rap song in Korea?”

Jeongguk was completely open with his crying now, and Jimin being the sympathy cryer that he was, was right alongside him. Namjoon forced out a laugh, and his eyes were welling up too.

“Right,” he said. “That was the goal, wasn’t it?”

“You could do it without me, though,” Yoongi said. “I hope--I hope you know that.”

“Don’t say that,” Namjoon said, and tears started to streak his face. “Please.”

Taehyung stayed in the doorway with Hoseok, who watched the whole scene with a faraway expression. He crossed his arms over his chest, shoulders tense, and looked like he was ready to bolt again any second.

“Stop crying,” Yoongi whined at him, then glanced between Jimin and Jeongguk. “All of you. You’ll all be fine...you’ll all be fine.”

“Hyung--” Jeongguk started, but Yoongi cut him off.

“Don’t you all have trains to catch? Have you finished packing?” he asked, clearing his throat. “Hyung will be--I’ll be back, okay? So stop crying unless you want to look--look foolish in January.”

Seokjin frowned and put a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder. “We do need to get going, Joon-ah. My parents are meeting us at the station.”

“Right. Um, right.” Namjoon said, and he gave Yoongi’s hand a squeeze, using his free arm to wipe under his nose. “I’ll see you in January, then?”

“Of course.”

But he, Namjoon, and everyone else knew that wasn’t true.

Seokjin ruffled Yoongi’s hair, and at least he still groaned like always. “Have a good Christmas, Yoongi.”

“Nnnh, yeah, you too.”

On their way out the door, Namjoon took slow steps, and Seokjin stopped in front of Taehyung. “Will you let us know when you guys get to Daegu?”

“Sure,” Taehyung said, but Yoongi groaned again.

“I’ll let you know,” he said. “My fingers still work.”

“Okay, Yoon-ah,” Jin laughed, staring down at his feet. “Have a safe trip, then.”

Jeongguk and Jimin were saying goodbye shortly after, Jimin mumbling something about still having to pack and Jeongguk nodding solemnly in agreement.

“Hyung,” Jeongguk said, pulling an Iron Man comic book from the shelf over Yoongi’s desk. “Can I take this to Busan to read over break?”

“Anything you want, Gguk,” Yoongi said, which only made Jeongguk start sniffling again. He nodded, shoving the book inside his coat to protect it from the snow.

Taehyung didn’t know what he would have done had this been the last time he was going to see Yoongi. There was comfort, at least, in the knowledge that he got him all to himself for a month, and he wouldn’t have to say his goodbyes for a while.

And any thought of how painful that would be was pushed from his mind.

Jimin crawled onto the bed and gave Yoongi the gentlest of hugs, as though worried he might break him. “I love you, hyung-ah.”

Yoongi hesitated. He was never a fan of displays of affection, much less such an open one. But his face softened as he looked at Jimin, and he pulled his lips into a tiny smile.

“Love you too, Jiminie,” he said. “Try not to eat so much at the buffet this year. I don’t need to see another selfie of you and your food baby.”

It made Jimin giggle as he stood back up, blotchy face brightening. “Well, I need more pictures of Holly. So do try to cuddle him as much as last year.”

“I don’t know,” Yoongi’s rough voice teased. “I’ll have Taehyung to cuddle this year.”

Taehyung’s stomach plummeted, and immediately he felt Jimin and Hoseok’s eyes on him. Jimin laughed it off, his eyebrows coming together in some kind of concern that Taehyung could only begin to unravel.

It may have been easier to understand if his brain wasn’t now stuck on the thoughts of spooning Yoongi, their legs intertwined under the thick comforter of his bed that he’d only seen in photos up until this point.

“Photos of Taehyung are good too,” Jimin said.

As he and Jeongguk left, Jimin stopped in front of Taehyung just as Seokjin had. But instead of asking to be informed of when they got to Daegu, he took Taehyung’s face in his hands and gave him a kiss on his forehead.

“You’re my best friend,” he repeated his words from the other day.

“I know,” Taehyung said, and again he knew what Jimin was asking of him. He was going to have to tell Yoongi how he felt before break ended. Even though it was so obviously pointless, he’d try to have hope for Jimin’s sake. “You’re my best friend, too.”

And then it was just Yoongi, Taehyung, and Hoseok. Taehyung shut the door before Hoseok could bolt again, and Yoongi did his best to sit up. He seemed to jump at the sight of Hoseok in front of him, too caught up in everyone’s goodbyes to have seen him return.

“Oh,” he said. “You--you came back.”

Hoseok nodded, gesturing to the spot beside Yoongi. “Can I?”

“Sure,” Yoongi said. “I won’t die just from sitting near you.”

“Oh, um,” Hoseok said, and he left a few inches between him and Yoongi when he sat, “I know.”

Yoongi looked at him, watching his expression change from discomfort to grief to a mix of the two, and he looked as though he was fighting the urge to reach out and touch him. He clasped his hands in his lap and broke his gaze to stare down at them.

Taehyung knew that he should leave them alone, but Yoongi could start choking again any second, and he knew Hoseok would panic again. He had to be there, just in case. So he resigned himself to being a fly on the wall, to letting himself see this and get hurt.

“Sorry,” Yoongi sighed. “I think I’m using humor as a coping mechanism, but most of what I say is just stupid. I’ve...I’ve missed you, Hobi.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Hoseok said, mostly to the ground. “You must hate me.”

“Are you kidding?” Yoongi said. “The whole reason this is happening is because I’m in fucking love with you. I love you, Jung Hoseok, and if that’s going to kill me, then so fucking be it.”

Taehyung took a step back and thanked his lucky stars that he just coughed up what was in his lungs.

Hoseok finally met Yoongi’s eyes. “I wish I could--”

“So you don’t love me,” Yoongi said. “I wouldn’t either.”

Taehyung and Hoseok both frowned in time with each other.

“I do love you.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Hyung, I’m sorry,” Hoseok’s voice broke, and tears spilled from his eyes like a dam suddenly burst.

From that point on, that was all he knew how to say.

“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling Yoongi into a tight hug that looked like it could break him. “I’m so, so sorry.”

[sky-casino]

Morning After

This is my first time to post a fic in bullet form/style lol. This plot was just an idea that popped up in my head months ago and I went with it and wrote it in bullet format because I’ve been so busy with work and this was the fastest and most convenient way of writing it lmao. 

So here’s fuckboi Jaehyun for y’all

Genre: Mild angst, fluff, implied smut Word Count: 2,306

You woke up and noticed that you're in an unfamiliar room.

You tried to remember what transpired last night as you slowly got up from the bed. You recalled that you were at a hotel where your best friend threw her birthday party.

As you were thinking, you saw a bare naked back right next to you. You gasped loudly but immediately covered your mouth in fear of waking up the guy.

You wrapped yourself in a blanket and walked around the bed nervously to see who you slept with the night before.

Your eyes widened to see that it was none other than Jeong Jaehyun.

You quickly but silently picked up your clothes from last night and hurried to the bathroom to take a quick shower.

After 10 minutes, you opened the bathroom door in hopes of leaving Jaehyun as he continued to sleep. You didn't want him to see you.

Unfortunately for you, he was sitting up on the bed rubbing his right eye sleepily as the sun rays shone on his naked upper body. He was angelic.

"Y/N?"

"H-hi." You greeted him. His sleepy voice was the sexiest thing you've ever heard.

"Morning. Wanna have some breakfast?" He asked as he adjusted his eyes with the sunlight.

Now, you're pretty sure that boys don't usually invite the girl they just had a one-night-stand with to breakfast. From what you know, the two parties just go their separate ways the morning after, not making a big deal out of what happened the night before.

"Uhm, sorry but I need to go now."

"Huh? But I'm hungry." Jaehyun insisted with pouty lips that shook your heart a little.

You opened your mouth to try to say something but he cut you off. "I see you've taken a shower already. Were you gonna leave me here all alone, sweetheart?" He asked with a smirk as he walked to you. Your heart beat thumping loudly with each of his steps.

"Let me wash up quickly then let's get some breakfast, okay? Promise you won't leave." He said as tucked some strands behind your left ear

"O-okay. Promise." You complied because how the hell could you say no to that handsome face and those cute dimples?

It only took 5 minutes for Jaehyun to finish. "Sorry to keep you waiting." He said as he quickly put on his shirt and pants. You took note of his cute Captain America boxers that you failed to notice last night.

"I.. I really appreciate the gesture, but I really need to go." You said, which surprised Jaehyun.

"I thought we already agreed that we will have breakfast together? Please. I'm starving. The breakfast buffet is just downstairs. 20 minutes tops then I'll drive you to wherever you want."

"Drive me? Oh, there's absolutely no need-"

Jaehyun got your bag from the spot right next to you in a snap.

"What are you doing?"

"I'll take your bag as my hostage so you can stop trying to get away from me." He smirked.

"Fine. Let's do what you want." You replied in a tone of defeat and annoyance.

Looking at the breakfast buffet options made you realize that you were starving as well.

You and Jaehyun picked the same dishes: sausage, ham, eggs, hash brown, cereals, and fruits.

"So why were you in such a hurry to go home?"

"I have.. some homework."

"You're a bad liar."

"Excuse me?" You asked as you put down your fork, staring intently at Jaehyun.

"You have the same classes with Winwin and I asked him last night if he had any homework this weekend and he said none." Jaehyun crossed his arms and leaned forward on the table, decreasing the gap between you. He flashed the same smirk he's been showing you all morning.

"You're nice but you get pretty cocky." You retorted as you threw the napkin on the table, standing up to leave.

"Okay, wait. I'm sorry." Jaehyun quickly grabbed your left wrist to stop you from leaving. His hand felt warm and soft.

"I'm sorry. My bad." He said with pleading eyes.

You calmed yourself down and sat back down and continued eating.

The rest of the meal was spent in silence.

You were now on the passenger's seat of Jaehyun's car.

"Do you regret it?"

"Sorry what?"

"What we did last night. Do you regret it?" Jaehyun asked seriously, not looking at you and just focusing on the road ahead of him.

You looked at him for half a minute, not knowing what to say.

"No. I.. I'm just surprised and disappointed with myself because I don't usually sleep with just anyone. I don't do that kind of thing. Last night was actually my first time to sleep with someone I'm not in a relationship with." You replied with a voice so weak it was almost a whisper.

"So I'm 'just anyone'." He chuckled.

"No! That's not what I meant."

"I'm just kidding. I understand."

Awkward silence.

"So you do regret it." Jaehyun's voice faltered but he was still smiling. "You were amazing last night, though." He complimented you.

"Oh my god, shut up." You hissed and covered your face out of embarrassment.

"Aww but it's true. You're so cute when you're flustered." Jaehyun chuckled. "Anyway, I don't wanna go home yet. I'm in the mood to roam around and do some shopping and I want you to come with me. My treat. You won't have to spend a single cent." Jaehyun said, smiling adorably at you with the help of his dimples.

"Alright. This is my first non-hectic Saturday in a while. I wanna have some fun."

"Sounds great."

"But first, can we go straight to the department store? I don't feel so nice wearing this sweaty dress from last night."

"Sure. I'm thinking of getting fresh clothes too."

You were supposed to go to the nearest mall but then you spotted a flea market along the way.

"Wanna go there? It looks fun." You proposed.

"Sure." Jaehyun replied as he slowly parked the car near the market.

The market had stalls for clothes, sunglasses, food, drinks, CDs and vinyl records, and artsy stuff. It was heaven.

Jaehyun was already wearing a new shirt while you were still looking at some clothes. Jaehyun suddenly asked you to try on a crop top and a pair of shorts that he picked for you.

"I think these will look good on you. Try them on and let me see."

"And why would I do that?" You protested, trying to mask your reddening cheeks that were caused by the thought of Jaehyun checking you out.

"Because I'm gonna pay for these?"

"I can pay for these myself."

"Yeah but then I have your purse, remember?" Jaehyun retorted as he playfully dangled your purse with a smirk.

"Ugh, fine." You grabbed the clothes from him.

After five minutes, you slowly set aside the curtain of the makeshift fitting room. You were very shy and couldn't look at Jaehyun in the eyes for more than a second, until he said, "You're so gorgeous."

"You're just saying that because you're the one who picked the clothes." You sassed, trying not to make a big deal out of his compliment. You reminded yourself that he's a fuckboy and he's usually like this with girls.

"Let's go and get those paid for."

Now that both of you were in fresh new clothes, you felt better and cleaner. You roamed around the entire flea market and after thirty minutes, decided to sit down under a tree while finishing your watermelon popsicles.

"God, it's so hot!" You exclaimed.

"Sorry." Jae smirked.

You scoffed before replying, "Don't worry, you're not to blame at all."

"For the record, I love how sassy you are."

"Yeah and for the record, you're not the only one who do."

Jaehyun's laugh was interrupted by your phone ringing. It was your friend who celebrated her birthday party last night at the hotel.

"Hey girl."

"Hey, Y/N! Oh my god, I was so worried about you! You suddenly disappeared last night! Where did you go?"

"I'm so sorry about that. I..." You tried to come up with an excuse and Jaehyun was listening.

"I got a little too drunk and decided to take a cab and go home. I wasn't feeling well." You lied and Jaehyun was surprised.

"But are you fine now? Where are you?"

"Yeah, I'm well now. I'm outside at the flea market."

"Are you with someone?"

"No, I'm alone." You lied as you looked at Jaehyun cautiously.

If Jaehyun was surprised by your first lie, he was disappointed and pissed now. He stood up and left you.

You ended your call with your friend abruptly to chase after Jaehyun.

"Hey! Wait!" You yelled as you reached him.

"What? You're alone, right?" He said before walking again.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"No, you meant it. You lied not only once, but twice. You meant it." Jaehyun was obviously hurt and thinking about how he's been nothing but nice to you since last night, you couldn't help but feel guilt crawling in your skin.

"May I know why? I think I deserve to know why. Answer me." His voice was demanding and he took a step closer to you, making you feel extremely intimidated, borderline scared.

"You want the truth? Fine. Honestly, I don't want to be talked about by the entire school for being one of your victims, for being one of those girls who fell for you and slept with you for one night. I don't like gossips. I don't take part in spreading them and I don't want to be in them. I'm actually living a quiet and normal life. But getting involved with a fuckboy like you might change that and that's why I'm really disappointed with myse-"

"If I stop being a fuckboy, will it solve your problem? Our problem?"

It took you almost half a minute to answer Jaehyun because his question took you off guard.

"Come on, Jaehyun. I'm not a fool and we both know you're not gonna suddenly stop sleeping around with every girl you like just because of me."

"I can and I will."

"What?"

"Don't you get it? Like, really? You don't see it? Feel it?"

"What are you talking ab-"

"I like you! I like you, Y/N. My god, you're so dense!" Jaehyun literally yelled at you before covering his face with his hands, looking so embarrassed and exasperated you couldn't help but feel sorry for your own obliviousness.

"H-how do you expect me to know how you feel? We barely hang out! We have the same circle of friends and share one class but the only time we actually talk is when you ask for my notes."

"Well, I'm sorry that I was... too shy to approach you." Jaehyun stuttered as he looked away from you.

"You? The most popular fuckboy in campus, is too shy to approach someone?" You mocked.

"Yeah! And that's when I knew that I liked you. I.. I don't usually feel nervous or jittery when thinking about someone, let alone when trying to approach them. But then I found myself staring at you during class. And those notes? I don't really need them because my friends have their own that I can borrow. But I purposely borrow yours just so I can talk to you, even just for a minute."

You couldn't fully absorb what Jaehyun was rambling about.

"So if you were too shy to approach me, how did we end up sleeping together last night?"

"You really forgot everything, huh? Some guy was hitting on you while you were drunk and, not to to make it sound like I was your knight in shining armor, but I definitely was. I told him you were with me and that I'd knock him out if he continues pestering you."

"So you're saying you saved me?"

"Yep. And when we were left alone by the douchebag, you started.. flirting with me." Jaehyun said with a sheepish smirk.

"I.. what?!" You asked with wide eyes. "I don't believe you. Nope. I refuse." You crossed your arms.

"You can refuse all you want but I'll never forget it." This intrigued you more.

"Why? What.. what did I do, exactly?"

"You thanked me and got so close to my face while squishing my cheeks. Then you started praising my looks while holding my face with both of your hands, saying that I'm the most handsome guy you've ever seen and you love looking at my face every chance you get."

You still couldn't remember clearly but Jaehyun was indeed the most handsome guy you've ever laid eyes on, so you thought that what he's saying might be true.

"W-well..."

"You're not gonna deny it?" Jae asked excitedly.

"It's true that you're the most gorgeous man I've ever seen, yes. But the rest of the night is still a blur to me."

"Well, I can tell you all about it in detail. Or we can just do it again." He teased you.

"Stop that!" You smacked his arm.

"I'm just kidding!"

"Jokes are half-meant."

"Exactly. But in all seriousness Y/N, just tell me what I should do so you can give me a chance. I'm serious about this, about you."

"Did you really mean it when you said you'll stop being a fuckboy?"

"I do."

"Alright. Court me properly for three months. That means no sleeping around during that entire period. Are you up for it?"

"Honey, I haven't been sleeping around since I realized how I feel for you. And that's the past month and a half. Adding three more is not a problem." He smirked.

"Good. Now let's eat, I'm starving." You said as you pulled his hand.

[your-modern-shakespeare]

Just Like You (21)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20

Summary: You are an experiment, the first of its kind. One day you escape and are living a normal life when you run into a perfect stranger or was he?

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2500

A/N: Hey everyone! It’s been a lifetime since I posted for this, but here you go. So I just wanted to let you guys know that there actually isn’t much left to this story, but I do have something coming up to fill the Bucky void, once this is done. Enjoy!

Warnings: Implied sexy time, kissing, fluff

Tags: @thisisthelilith, @thesalsafic, @fangirl1802, @lust-for-pan 

Y/N’S POV

April 23rd, 2015

I couldn't stop thinking about him. Given he was here most of the day but it was different when every time I closed my eyes I saw his, I saw the blue that could stare into my soul and make me feel safer than I've ever felt.

I didn't understand this feeling, I didn't understand how a man could make me feel like that. No man had before.

I was sitting at the apartment by myself, Bucky was down at the market today and it was my day off. This gave me plenty of time to try and straighten out my thoughts.

The thing was, when Bucky showed up things got better. He made me laugh and when he walked in the room, I couldn't help but smile. He was there for every nightmare, for every memory, for everything I didn't understand, he was there for me. When no one had before.

I wanted to chalk up what I was feeling to gratitude but the more I got to know Bucky, the longer we stayed up talking to one another, to combat the nightmares, the deeper my feelings grew.

I loved all of the little things that he did for me: he would bring me a book because he knew I liked the author, or he would buy foods to help our memory because the woman at the market thought it would help, or he would cook a meal for two rather than just one.

He had only been here for a little over a month and honestly I couldn't imagine this place without him, and I would be lying if I didn't say that scared me.

I was sitting on the couch in the living room, reading a book, when he walked in with some groceries in hand. He immediately went to the kitchen to put the groceries away and I moved on the couch so that I could watch him.

“I wish that you would have come down to the market with me today. I had an amazing conversation with the woman at the cabbage cart and she gave me this new recipe for stuffed cabbage rolls, so I thought I would make it for dinner.”

“That sounds pretty good. Maybe on my next day off I'll come down to the market with you.”

“I would really like that.”

“So what else did you do?”

“Nothing really, you know me. I just walked around tried to find something to help us pass the time.”

“Anything good?”

“Um...maybe. I've got to look into it.”

“Must be good then.”

“I hope so, may be too good to be true. It's the reason why I'm not going to tell you about it until I have it.”

“I don't like surprises.”

“I know but I don't want to get your hopes up.”

“Why would I get my hopes up?”

“I guess you'll have to wait and see what it is.” He smirked and turned back to the stove, getting the meal ready. I looked back down at my book and tried my hardest to hide my smile.

That night we ate our cabbage and he did everything he could to make me smile, little did I know that he was doing it on purpose.

The next day I went to work, it was a filing job for a small company, and even though I was working, my mind easily slipped back to thoughts of Bucky.

I didn’t know too much about Bucky but I knew that he was born in 1917, which meant that he grew up in a different time than I did. But he had also had a life outside of HYDRA, he experienced things that I never had before. So I thought back to what I had been feeling and I wondered if I should ask him about it. There was a good chance that he understood what I was feeling but an even bigger chance that he most likely didn’t feel the same way.

I wanted Bucky to like me, but after everything I had remembered and all the bad things I had told him, I knew there was no way that he could feel the same things that I did. So the doubt made me reconsider talking to him about that. It was times like these where I wished that I wasn’t hiding out from a terrorist group that believed that we couldn’t be trusted with our freedom.

I got off work right around time for dinner and it was this time of day where I came home to a finished meal. I walked into the apartment, a smile growing on my face as soon as I saw Bucky standing at the counter, dishing food out on a plate.

“Hey.” I said, walking over to where he was standing.

“Hi, how was work?”

“Good…boring.”

“The usual.” He smiled at me.

“Yeah. I just had a lot of time to think.”

“Can I ask what about?”

“Wasn’t really anything in particular, just things that I remember, trying to remember more.”

“Did you remember anything?” He stopped what he was doing and turned to look at me.

“No, it just didn’t come.” He grabbed my hand and made sure that I was looking at him before he spoke again.

“It will.”

“Yeah.”

“So, I want you to go and sit and I will bring you a plate.”

“Okay.” I sat on the couch and when he was done he brought over two plates, handing me one. As we ate we made small talk: he asked me about the book that I was reading and I asked him about his day.

Coming home later than usual, caused for a late night as we got distracted and lost all sense of time; It was always so easy for us to get lost in conversation. But I was enjoying the time I spent with him and even if I never told him about the way I felt, I had a feeling that he wanted to be here as much as I did.

I was the first to move from the couch, quickly going to the bathroom before I came back out. Bucky was standing, putting his shoes back on.

“Hey, I got to go out for a bit.”

“Go out?”

“Yeah, I need to pick something up.”

“It’s really dark outside, couldn’t you wait until the morning? I mean, you never know who's out right now and—”

“Oh don’t worry about me. I’ll be quick.”

“Does this have something to do with what we talked about yesterday?”

“No.” He said very straight faced and I think I decided in the end, that he was lying.

“Are you going to be gone long?”

“No, like twenty minutes.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be right back.” He said as he quickly grabbed his jacket and rushed out the front door.

As usual Bucky was as practical as he always was. I was sitting on the couch with a book in my hand when I heard the front door unlock and screech open just a crack.

“Close your eyes.” He yelled into the room.

“Close my eyes?”

“Yes.”

“Bucky, I don't like surprises.”

“Please, if you don't like it, I will never try to surprise you again.”

“Okay,” I covered my eyes with my hands,  “they're covered.” I heard the door open and shut behind him and then a small thud as he put something down. I heard him lock the door before he came over to me, placing his hand on my arm.

“Keep your eyes closed, but give me your hands.”

“Bucky—”

“Do you trust me?” I didn't respond to him, I just gave him my hands and kept my eyes shut. He pulled me off the couch and moved me in the room to where he needed me.

“Okay stay right here.” He moved away from me and I stood there with my eyes closed, but I listened very carefully to what he was doing.

I think he knew I was listening, though, because he was hardly making a sound. I heard him opening something, like a lid, and then nothing. I heard him slide something and then nothing. I heard static...but then music. I waited for him to say something, but I think I figured it out.

I still had my eyes closed when I felt him near me again. I heard soft jazz music filling the air and I felt him move even closer to me, causing me to gasp and my heart to flutter. He grabbed my hand and held it in his, put his free hand on my waist and, out of some instinct, I placed my other hand on his shoulder.

We moved to the music, but it wasn't anything special, just a sway. But he held me closer and closer the longer we danced and I don't think I have ever wanted to be somewhere more than I wanted to be right there with him in that moment.

“Open your eyes, Y/N.” I opened them to his blue ones staring down at me. He wrapped both of his arms around my waist, I moved mine around his, and I rested my head on his chest.  As we moved around I got a good look at a vintage record player.

“You bought me a record player.” I looked up at him.

“I know you’ve been wanting one. It took me a while to find one and they didn’t have a lot of records, but I’ll keep looking.”

“No one has ever done anything like this for me before.”

“I know that I can’t do much. I know that you work and the reason that we’re safe is because of you. I just wanted to do one thing for you.”

“Bucky, you do so much more than you think, you keep me in one piece. You’re the one I do all of this for and now that you're here…I don't want to do any of this without you.”

“I'm always going to be here for you.”

And I think that in the moment the look that we gave each other was enough to erase any doubt or hesitance that we felt. Because the next second, before I could even process what I wanted to happen next, Bucky was kissing me. And as soon as it registered in my head that this was exactly what I wanted, I kissed him back, God, did I kiss him back.

The kiss was slow, passionate, long and he made me feel things that I never had before, I mean I had kissed a man before but it was nothing like this. This just meant more, and I think I understood why it felt different, why I couldn't get him out of my head.

“Bucky…” I whispered only pulling away enough to speak.

“Y/N.” He whispered back.

“I need to tell you something.” He pulled back a little further so that he could look into my eyes.

“Yes?”

“I've never felt this way about anyone. I want you…” His gaze moved down to my lips briefly before it moved back up to my eyes, filled with a look of desire now. “I don't know if I remember how to do this.” He moved his hands to my arms, slowly rubbing the uncovered skin.

“I think we may need to remind each other.”

“Yeah?”

“It's been...seventy years since I was with anyone.” I moved my hands to the side of his neck, making sure his mind didn't go anywhere dark.

“I'm nervous.”

“I am too.”

“I really like you.”

“I can't stop thinking about you.”

“Me neither.”

That was the last time we said anything for the night. He took me back into the bedroom and made me forget about everything bad I had ever done. It wasn't the perfect sex, we fumbled and we were still trying to figure things out about each other, but despite that being with him was perfect. The only thing I regretted was how long it took for us to realize how much we needed each other...wanted each other.

The following morning I woke up in his arms and it was like we were stuck in a happy bubble. Later that morning I went to work and all of the ladies teased me about the mood I was in, knowing that I had met someone special. I thought of him all day and when I came home he reminded me of the reasons why I had been thinking about him all day. And then it happened again the next day and the next day and it only got better. Everything was perfect.

That was Bucharest, that was Bucky not having to convince me everyday that we were safe and that HYDRA couldn't find me. When in reality there was no way now for him to promise that.

We were about to go into the belly of the beast and my head was in Bucharest.

I stared at myself in the mirror, fixing the completely straight medals on my uniform and making sure that my skirt was centered, moving it a little to the left before moving it back to its original position. Little did I know that Bucky was watching me as I fumbled with the look that needed no more attention.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked, finally grabbing my attention. I looked at him, leaning against the bathroom doorframe.

“Bucharest.”

“Anything specific.”

“The night you brought home the record player.” He smiled and sauntered over to me in his crisp uniform and wrapped his arms around me. I placed my hand on his arm and he leaned down to kiss my cheek.

“That was a good night.”

“It was.”

“You know...you look really good in your uniform.” I said to him, trying to hide my smile.

“So do you, but I see that you're worried and no matter how many compliments you throw my way, I’m still going to figure out what’s happening in that head of yours.” I smiled and how well he could read me, he always knew when I was trying to distract him.

“I bet you will.” I moved out of the bathroom and into the bedroom where I sat and put on my boots and he just watched me as I did. I was talking to Bucky on the bed, telling him things that I had told him before, my hesitations, when we heard a knock on the door, signaling that it was time to leave.

“Are you ready to go?” Bucky asked as he stood from the bed, hand held out for me. He saw the look on my face, “You know I’m going to protect you, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

I took a deep breath. “Let’s do this.” I took his hand he he led me downstairs to where the team was waiting.

PART TWENTY-TWO 

[therealdragu-blog]

TheRealDragU Episode 1, Part 1: The New Students

(This is a fanfiction show about every queen from RuPaul’s Drag Race going to college and getting into fights/struggles/romance/mischief/mysteries, all with some laughs along the way. Enjoy!)

-----

It was a cool summer day in central California, with animals bright as the sun, for once a more quieter city, especially for Cali, and most importantly little traffic, good for one bus of queens.

The front row of the bus had a gloating Aquaria, talking to one of her friends on the phone about her successes after winning, while Miz Cracker right next to her sat looking in the other direction, arms crossed, and probably streaks of steam coming from her head as she’s forced to hear her half-friends talks of money, jewelry, fame and worship. The next seat had the team of Monique Heart and Dusty Ray Bottoms facing each other with quiet whispers of the other girls.

Dusty then asked Monique “Girl, have you seen this part of San Francisco before? I don’t recognize it.” Monique replied “Nope, doesn’t look anything like I’ve seen. All I was told was that we’re all going to a special gig.” Which gave Dusty a confused face into the distance. She looked at Monique again and said “Do you know what the name of the place is?” Monique just nervously shrugged after a wide-eyed look to Dusty. “Do you see something purple outside?” Dusty looked back and said “No.....I’m seeing red.” They both looked out in wonder.

The seat behind them had Yuhua Hamasaki, in a very deep sleep with half of her body on the floor and the other half on the actual seat, and for some reason a 1st grader’s book plastered over her face in the middle pages. Sitting poised next to her, Blair St. Clair, was cross-legged with a small coinpurse in both hands, and staring wide-eyed at Yuhua’s pose and loud snoring.

Next to them was Asia O’Hara and Vanessa “Miss Vanjie” Mateo. Vanjie couldn’t help but notice Asia’s lack of a smile for the entire bus ride, presumably due to her failed butterfly stunt during...that performance. She decided to try to cheer her up by saying “Miss Vanjie?”. Asia only shifted her eyes at her with a dead glare for a few seconds until staring at the floor again. Vanjie reached for her hand as Asia shed a single tear.

Behind them was Monet X Change and Mayhem Miller, both questioning the too long ride like Monique and Dusty. Monet saw Mayhem’s raised eyebrow and said “May-may, don’t you live in California? How come the road’s turning as baron as the fun in this bus right now?” Mayhem responded “This is strange, there’s always buildings in this city, never cacti and sand. I’m sorry, am I seeing pink smoke?” Monet leaned in overlapping Mayhem into the window. “No, I’m seeing orange dust. It’s probably just some erosion.” Granted Monet was skeptical in saying that.

In the back was The Vixen and Kameron Michaels, with Kameron peacefully listening to some light synth-pop on her with her earphones in closed eyes, while Vixen on the window end looking over at the opposite seat in deadlock - Eureka O’Hara looking at her with just as ferocious eyes, while Kalorie Karbdashian Williams in between them shifted her eyes back and forth in worry. She whispered to Eureka “Are you two gonna let this go? It’s been a year.” Eureka whispered back “I’ll let it go when she apologizes” Vixen heard and whispered “When you apologize” Eureka moved her finger across her throat, while Vixen cracked both her gold-covered knuckles. Kalorie wanted to absorb herself into the seat to avoid a possible quarrel, but she couldn’t help but notice the stream of blue and yellow smoke coming from the outside.

Suddenly, when Aquaria stopped talking to her friend, she noticed outside the window “Holy shit, I think it’s snowing!” Cracker looked at Aquaria in a face of disgust and ridiculousness, which quickly turned into bewilderment as soon as she saw over the window. Monet walked over to their seat and said “Snowing?! In California?! My ass!” She scooched over Cracker to look at the window next to Aquaria. Dusty grew concerned and tapped on the seat of the busdriver. “Excuse me. Where in the fuck are you taking us? We’ve been here for 6 hours!” With no reply after a minute, Monique chimed in with her “Hello?! Do you know how Google Maps works?” Dusty kicked the bus driver seat “HEY!” She finally decided to look over and soon Monique noticed a look of panic in Dusty’s face, as if she’d seen a ghost.

“There’s no one in the fucking seat....” Monique looked over the seat to see an empty driver’s chair and let out a frightening shriek. Vanjie overheard all of this and said, “Are you bitches smokin’ som...” she said until she too noticed the baron seat and almost fainted onto the floor if in wasn’t for the passenger seats she grabbed onto.

Soon everyone on the bus was in shock and terror, with Blair yelling “We’re all gonna crash and die!” She tried to open the bus window but couldn’t manage due to her hands shaking furiously. Cracker pulled her back and said “Are you stupid?! The bus is at 100 miles per hour! What’s happening!” A pink pixel hue over the windshield started forming, which caught Vixen’s eye first. She screams “Look over there! Mayhem, isn’t that the pink you saw?” She replied “Oh my god, it is! Is.... is this Ru or something?” Suddenly, RuPaul herself appeared on the windshield, and all queens froze in a mixture of shock, confusion and somehow relief for some of them.

The holographic Ru calmly told them “Don’t you worry kitty girls, all will be well and good when you get to the college. Be sure you packed everything, you’ll be here a while!” followed by an ecstatic laugh. Everyone looked at each other without a word. Yuhua suddenly woke up and took the book off of her face, and gleefully said “Hi girls! Why’s everyone standing?” Aquaria looked at her in amazement “Were you asleep this whole time?” Yuhua said “I don’t know actually, I think my eyes might’ve been open. Hey, why’s the bus vibrating?” Blair screamed while clamping Yuhua’s shoulder’s “We’re all gonna fucking die!” Eureka slapped Blair across the back of the head and said “calm your ass down! “I think we should just stay in one spot. Ru’s probably not going to kill us after season 10 just finished!” Monique challenged “Then why is she making us go in the speed of Nascar?” Aquaria responded “Maybe just good technology? I haven’t spent my $100,000 yet! There’s no way something bad will happen.” Kameron thought out loud “What did she mean by college?” the other queens looked at each other with the same question

Bursts of rainbow smoke and specks of glitter and confetti cover all the windows. “Are we running over a pride parade? What the fuck is happening?!” Exclaimed Cracker. Suddenly, the bus stopped in a strong halt. Some of the queens fell forward including Eureka landing on Blair, which resulted in Blair letting out a bloodcurdling scream. Monet said “Girl, we’re fine, no one’s dead or maimed or whatever.” Blair shouted “You try being 4 feet tall and crushed by a hippo.” Eureka rebuttled “That’s an elephant to you, sweetie.”

The doors to the bus opened gently, all of the queens walked out slowly in cautious steps, noticing the ground was made of a cloud-like substance. Small specks of rainbow circles, presumably balls of fire stars or possibly streetlights, were barely visible behind waves of fog. The only building in sight was a large castle-like structure, all white, with orange and purple flags on the tips. “What...is this place?” murmured Aquaria as she led the rest of the season 10 sisters with scepter in her land like an Amazonian tribe leader. As they walked up to a 20 foot tall gold gate with red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, pink, white, black, brown and grey diamonds studded into the bars in that same pattern over and over, it suddenly opened, with a grinning RuPaul standing in front of the 100-stair steps of the house.

Asia in a slight yell of panic said to Ru, “What are you doing to us? You’ve sent us to... f-fucking Candyland, and you’ve almost gave us all a heart attack!” Dusty added “Asia’s right, you could’ve just told us about this before we got on a bus that turned into a fucking subway!” Yuhua also added “Specifically a japanese bus - Ru, what’s up?” Ru simply laughed feverishly and explained the story.

She said “You see ladies, there was a little show about turning some regular women into drag queens with the help of my season 1 to 4 sisters. Does anyone remember.... RuPaul’s Drag U?” Kalorie said “Oh yeah, I remember that, it was cancelled because of bad ratings.” RuPaul chuckles and said, “Oh no, I personally cancelled it, and only said it was because of the ratings to keep the secret.” Cracker asked “What secret? Is this the “college” you’re talking about?” Ru responds “Well, I have something to say - I’ve built a set of machines that can take over the world! They’re called the Dragulators, of course! What it is is a set of ray guns that when shot by a gay, can make a straight person do any sort of thing under mind control.......including ending homophobia.”

All the queens stood in shock with whispers from queen to queen. Vanjie asked “So what that got to do with us?” Ru laughed at Vanjie with a subtle wink that only an awkard looking Vanjie and Vixen noticed. Ru said “The issue is, I only have this technology in these guns, and I have no teleporter. Which is why I have my new set of recruits.” Kameron thought and said “Wait, so have the other girls done this?” To which Ru said “Oh, bitch, they’re still doing this! That’s why we have the dorms here!” “You have to stay here for life, with very few contacts to the outside world.”

All of the queens suddenly gasped and thought “Dorms?! For Life?! Sharing a room with another bitch?!?!” Aquaria shouted “You know what, if we’re ending homophobia, I’ll do it. Especially in pride season!” Monique, Eureka, Vixen and Cracker walked up behind Aquaria, Vixen said “As long as we still do performances, I’m going for it!” Monet looked at the 5 as if they lost their mind. She said “Are you crazy? I think I can handle a little dumb homophobic nobody if I don’t have to live in Equestria, who’s with me?” Blair, Mayhem, Vanjie and Dusty all raised a hand, with Dusty saying “True that, I have a husband to see every day, and I’m not losing him, let’s go”

Before any of them could take a step, Ru said “Oh, I guess you wouldn’t be paid then. Monet said “Paid? We’re getting paid for this?” Ru chuckled “How does.......$25,000 a day sound?” Both Kalorie and Aquaria shouted “What?!” with one sounding joyful and one sounding saddening. Ru then asked “Would you do it now? You can still use the internet here you know?” Monet, Blair, Mayhem, Vanjie and Dusty looked at each other with all smirking together. Mayhem turned to Ru and said “We’ll do it! We can take the homesickness, right gals?” They all shouted a reluctant “Yes!”

The remaining 4 - Asia, Kalorie, Kameron and Yuhua - were still on the fence. Kameron said “There’s no way I can do this, I need to see my family, friends and fans all the time. I’m out.” Ru scowled at her and pulled out a small gray box with a big red button on it. She used her other hand to slap as hard as she could. As soon as the four were near the bus, it disintegrated in a gout of rainbow flame. Ru slowly walked to the gate and said “Do you change your mind?” Yuhua let out a big gulp, with Kameron forced to say “Um....Alright, I’ll...we’ll do it, r-right Asia? Kalorie?” Asia and Kalorie nodded in fear. Ru in a millisecond turned to glee and proclaimed “Great! Welcome my girls, to Drag U! I’ll escort you to your dorm-mates!” Vixen shifted her head quickly to Ru and shouted wide-eyed “Did you just say dorm-mates?”

~~~~~TO BE CONTINUED~~~~~

(Hope you enjoyed part 1! Part 2 coming soon!)