#they kind of just build up subconsciously until i realize that i feel like dying

[gaysforbyler]

ALSO also “do you notice sounds that other people don’t?” HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHAT OTHER PEOPLE HEAR? MAYBE? IDK

Everyone always talks about how allistic people don’t hear the air conditioner humming. WHAT HUMMING? The whoosh of the air? Do they not hear the air conditioner at all? Why would they not hear that? Or is there a hidden sound I can’t hear like a dog whistle?

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Just had a thought about Gai in GOS.

When he dies, he regains all his memories from every life time. Probably gains at least part of their abilities too. And its alluded to that on a subconscious level, he keeps certain aspects of himself or certain skills when he's alive. Like his knowledge of the town/ old buildings. An example being Rogue Gai using King Gai's knowledge of the castle/town/ancient churches, to sneak around without being caught for over a decade.

Does that mean when he's dead, he has full access to his Dragon form/ all it's abilities...and is it possible that, under the right circumstances, aspects of the dragon could rise in his living form?

I'm just thinking of things like Soldier Gai being one of the last warriors to die, and wondering if he used some of his previous dragon strength that came out in that horrible battle. Not enough so he could transform, but maybe enough to last a little longer.

Or maybe when Husband Gai has Kakashi die in his arms, his rage, which is a first to come out like that in all his life times, just manifesting some aspect of the dragon while he cursed out the gods, which may have really shook them.

I almost see him walking in shock to a place he and Kakashi loved, during a sunny day (can't get mad like this when his husband is around, so not on a rainy day!). Maybe he was in partial shock a long time after Kakashi first died in his arms... and then him just...punching the ground as the weight of what all happened hitting him. And rage and anger exploding out of him as he finally takes the time to break down. Possibly going ham on a rock/ boulder of some kind...

When he comes to though, and is expecting his hands to be mangled by what he did, he just sees a pile of rubble, maybe even BURNT rubble, and his hands are perfectly fine. He can't explain it but is probably too tired to do so anyways (probably needs another good cry after that. Rational mind knows it had to happen, emotional mind however... needs to grieve. Ugly.).

And that's why the gods are quick to huddle up after, to prevent a possible rampaging dragon scenario, rampaging on them!!!

Ohhhh love that.

Gai’s rage, protective energy and drive funneling inward and awakening an ancient power deep inside of him that scares even the gods.

Gai being so so SO close to really unlocking that power in his mortal lifetime only to feel a hand on his shoulder. When he looks up it’s Kakashi standing at his side smiling at him the same as he always did

That cute little smile that reaches all the way up into his eyes until they close, expressing a deep happiness that Gai has never seen in anyone else before.

The gods, even the gods of creation themselves, cringing when they see all of this and getting together to talk about it because Gai has cursed them

He is still angey at them

If they allow him to die he really could unlock that dragon once again and it might be unstoppable.

Also for Soldier Gai i can see him being the last man standing, ready to give his life, when suddenly this red flame starts to burst around him. Not a flame that burns him, but one that surrounds him,

Soldier Gai dying, but also taking down every enemy with him in a flurry of rage that’s unlocked at the realization that if he doesn’t defeat them than his village is going to be burned to the ground, and he cannot allow that to happen

[voidtouched-blue]

Forgotten-contract--prior

Hands clasped together he leaned against his knees, keeping his attention to himself as he realized after a moment the young woman wouldn’t eat with him looking (That was reserved for her sleepy hours) and let the quiet stay for a bit, with only the small sounds of her eating for a bit… until it slowed, and stopped, and his gaze was brought to her own, the tint of the glasses obscuring her in the dark - and yet they remained for the time. A shield for his inner thoughts. Her tail flicked comfortably around her legs, that long furred tip wiggling in something as he tried to read her expression, eventually prompting the man to ask; “…Is everything alright?”

The natural orchestra that nightfall brought in was plenty to fill the silence between them. Her time away from the Shroud was short, but she would have traded the still heat and the din of the crowded streets for the peaceful quiet of the crickets and frogs. Paired with the gentle crackle of the fire, this was the first time she had felt at peace in the last year. Being able to just enjoy the sounds that bathed them in that tranquility was...nice?

Cyra had scooted herself off the log, pulling her legs close to her chest, wrapping her arms over her knees with her tail coming in to settle in a curl around her legs. It had taken her far longer to fully recognize that Silvaire had come to sit closer to her. That was the moment she realized how much she missed having familiar company. Bryn had been gone for a few years now, and... She flicked her ears, tail also curling and uncurling in the way it did as her mind worked through a fresh flood of emotions. After everything that had happened in the last year, the self-isolation, her self-loathing, and a hatred for how unfair everything felt.

She hadn't made an effort to slip on the mask after the last time it had fallen. At this point, it was too much of an effort to put back on. Not to mention, there was no way she could hide her true feelings with how expressive her extra furred appendages were. It was one of the few ways that she could let off some of the building pressure. A flick here and there, or in some cases repeated movements aided in moments of deep thought that required focus.

The detection of movement at her side had caught her attention subconsciously. The Keeper turned her head towards Silvaire, resting her chin on her arm and hadn't caught that she had been staring.

“…Is everything alright?”

It was a simple question, but without a simple answer. She had wanted to tell him how, despite the rather unsettling events that had happened within the last two days, she was enjoying his company. And she felt guilty for it. It felt like a betrayal to the grief she had been nurturing, that festered within her. That grief had become the source of a different kind of suffering that she knew she had yet to comprehend. The anticipation of it was what bothered her. But above all that, it was simply because she felt guilty for enjoying his company.

It was with a gentle huff from her nostrils that she turned her attention back to the fire, her eyelids resting low over her starlit gaze. Her ears gave it away, flattening back against her head, and her tail began an anxious dance of its own. She had been used to the way it reacted to her emotions, simply unfolding one of her arms to reach down and grab it to hold the damn thing still.

He's expecting an answer...

"I...." She started, finding her heart start fluttering as it had done before. Cyra shifted, stretching out her clawed toes for a moment as she tried to release the nervous energy in a more productive way.

"....I don't...know." She sighed.

The weight was heavy on her chest. It almost felt like it had taken away her air. Her she was, taking a stranger back to her home to help her with the current source of her anguish. Truth be told, Cyra felt like she had been cursed. Any who came near her either ended up dying or having to leave for some reason or another. She considered herself a strong woman, but the isolation was getting... lonely. She missed the enjoyment of conversation, no matter how menial. She missed having someone she could trust enough that the gentle touch of a hand didn't send her spiraling back into her past just to experience it's source anew.

I'm worried that I'm getting used to this. And that just like the others, it will be gone all too soon.

The flattened ears had not returned upright for the entirety of her silence. In another attempt to self-soothe, she gently rubbed the exposed fur on her arms, claws gently tracing the stripes, and the scars that hid beneath. She was tired of being overwhelmed with her rather decorated past. She wanted to be open with someone, to have a connection. Hearing the sound of his light laughs replay in her head had made her conflicted in this desire.

The Keeper knew that the path she walked would be her own burden, and nobody would truly be able to help her carry the weight. They could be there to offer support, but the reality was that the only one who would be hurt in the end was herself. Her mind wandered to a rather uneventful time during her imprisonment, a stretch of days where none had come to terrorize or abuse her. They were far and few between back then, but even if they had withheld meals and contact, it was the only peace she had known. Yet, for the first time since Haurchefant...and Bryn... she hadn't felt so isolated.

Cyra realized that having been absorbed in her studies, she neglected to truly reflect on his company. As strained as their connection may have been the other night...and of course when she attacked him... the fact that he hadn't tried to hurt her in retaliation, nor the fact that he hadn't questioned her about her unusual appearance or stared as long as most others would have made her feel seen.

"Why haven't you asked me about them? The patterned fur, I mean." She didn't truly want to answer his, but in the peaceful song of the crickets that answered the glittering stars, honesty and exhaustion ruled. She was nervous about his answer. Cyra could handle rejection. She could handle the way people stared, or the way children pointed her out in crowds everywhere she went. All the behaviors that made her further isolate herself from the public eye, to layer more fabric over the striped stories that came with exposed skin. Subconsciously, her fingers traveled up to the marred line of pale skin on her neck.

[plush-rabbit]

Tragedy

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: It makes me really sad that his Father’s favorite things were his family and that he just wanted them to be happy

Each step of his is slow, his heels clicking against the floor as he walks to his room, his body still on high alert, his mind full of chatter and noise that had echoed in the room large enough to still fill soldiers. His mind is still full of destruction, buildings crumbling under him, the screams of his- Tomura closes his eyes tightly and takes a sharp breath, pausing in the middle of the hallway, his hand coming up to cover above where Father should be. Somehow, it feels sick- sicker than usual at least. He continues onward, his steps quickening subconsciously, an effort to push the past further away, to drown out the noise in the distance, but no matter where he goes, it follows him.

There’s no use dwelling on the past, wondering if things might have been different or if he would have ended up different if it weren’t for that night. If it weren’t for that picture. If it weren’t for him and his selfish want to be a hero. It was a child’s dream, something naïve and something so raw and filthy that he now pays the price for it.

He stands at the closed door, a faint sound from the inside, a song too low and muffled by the wood for him to make out and his hand is curled into a weak fist, ready to knock, pleading that you’ll allow him entry. It’s his room. It’s your room. It’s a shared room and yet, he still feels as if he doesn’t belong.

You’re on the other side, waiting for him, and he can only force himself to muster the energy to stand. His knuckles rap against the door, and he waits for a moment, a second that drags on and on, until he hears your voice, allowing him entry. When he enters, his eyes land on you. Your back is propped up by pillows, your phone in your hand that is put aside and a blanket that covers your bent legs. You’re comfortable, laying in bed, and waiting for him, your smile soft, only to break when he stands in the doorway, holding the door with his hand while the one is pulled close to his chest.

“What’s wrong, Tomu?” Your head tilts and the blanket curls at the bottom of your ankle as you move to the edge of the bed. Your legs swing over and you walk up to him, your hands already raising to cup his face, but he moves away. “Tomura?” Your voice is small, as if you’re tending to a wounded animal and he realizes that this isn’t the first time that you’ve used this tone before. “Hey, come on,” you plead, as your hand rests on his shoulder and he has to shrug you away to close the door. “Talk to me,” you ask of him, and he can feel your eyes as he locks the door.

The bed dips under him and it is free of anything uncomfortable. It isn’t like the hard dirt that he’s known for the past few months, it isn’t a bed with springs digging into his back, and it isn’t a bed surrounded by four walls with his old figurines. It’s a new bed, soft and alien to him.

You stand in front of him, crouched to your knees and your hands resting against his thighs. He knows he should tell you something- you’ve teased and chastised him enough about how communication is important in a relationship, but he doesn’t know what to say. What do you say to a person who believes you are good, who wants to see the good in you that they ignore everything else about you? What do you say to a person who looks at you with endearment and understanding?

He doesn’t want to cry. He shouldn’t. It’s not like him. It isn’t him. “I’m tired.” his voice cracks and he looks at you for a second, his bottom lip teased between his teeth and his head lowering almost immediately once he catches your eyes.

“Oh honey,” you coo, and the space beside him is taken, as you wrap your arms around him, your hands lifting off his shoulder for a brief second, only to latch back onto him. “Is touch okay?” He nods, unable to answer. He feels your hand thread through his hair, untangling the few knotted pieces and scratching at his scalp. “It’s okay, Tomura. No one’s here, it’s just me and you.”

It’s just you and him. There’s no one else. It’s him in your arms as you shush him gently, slowly pulling him closer to you. You mutter soothing words to him, pulling him slowly further into the bed. The pillows soft as they cushion his body, his hand held and knuckles kissed and he lowers himself, his head resting on your chest.

“You can hold my hand,” he says, watching as his bare hand is interlaced with yours. His hand is calloused, scarred and imperfect, and it fills your hand perfectly, overlapping and watching as your fingertips brush over a faint scar between his knuckles and the webbed part of his hand. You’re much warmer than he remembered, and without his gloves, you’re softer too.

“And you can hold mine,” you reply, a hand curving to brush his hair. “You can hold mine anytime you want.” He knows you’re being sweet to him because of how vulnerable he is, and he wonders if it were any other time, if it were someone else even, if you would be as kind. “What happened, Tomura?” You press further and exhaustion is heavy on him, dragging along him and opening old and new wounds. “Talk to me, honey.”

What is he supposed to say? What should he tell you? Does he have to? Would you be angry at him if he doesn’t? Would you pull away from him and would he be the cause of the failed relationship? He isn’t ready and perhaps he’ll never be ready to say it outloud. As short as the time frame was, he’s over it. It’s in the past. The screams and blood will always taint his skin no matter how many times he washes his hands, but it’s in the past. He’s accepted it. But he can’t tell himself the same thing about you. He wants to tell him that you wouldn’t leave him, not this far into the relationship, not after everything that you did and ignored, just to be with him, but it’s different. You may not be perfect, but you’re perfect for him. To him, you’re his everything. He wants you and he wants you to accept everything that he is.

“A lot of things resurfaced about my past,” he speaks slowly, testing the waters and when you press your lips to the top of his head, allowing for him to continue, he does so. He rises above, his knees straddling your body and your hands cup his face, brushing back his hair that falls like a white curtain separating the both of you from the outside world. “Kiss me, please,” he croaks, lowering his head, until he can feel your breath on his lips.

It's a rush of emotions, one where he falls onto you, gasping as if he’s dying, choked breath followed by tears that slide down his cheeks and linger on his tongue. You’re caught by surprise, your noise of shock muffled by the kiss. He lowers himself, his hands free of cloth, except for one wrapped in bandages, but he touches you. He lets his fingertips roam over your body, to touch against your neck and feel every small movement, the soft inhale, the way your spit travels down your throat, the beating pulse that is erratic and pounding under his fingertips. His hand hurts, aching with every harsh movement, warmth leaking out and if it weren’t for the thickness of the bandages, he's sure red would have stained the both of you by now. Your hands move from him, pulling down his hair, leaving him in a whining mess, and you hold his with your hands pressed and curled onto his back. His hands never leave you, dragging down your body, a piece of your clothing crumbles, tearing at the seams and leaving your collar ruined. When he pulls away, your face is heavy in a flush, your eyes wide and dazed but holding some semblance of rationality behind them. Pink flashes out to wet your lips and he goes to capture you in a kiss once more, so desperate to feel you but when you turn your head, he meets your cheeks.

“Tomura,” you whine, your hands back on his head, cradling him until he pulls away, his head turning, face burning in shame at the rejection. “I need you to talk to me first.” You turn away and your cheeks are heavy in color, and your smile isn’t one that he’s used to. “Please.” It isn’t you begging, it isn’t you on your knees pleading and crying for him to share himself, but it’s enough for him to make his mind dizzy and rest his head on your shoulder.

“Later,” he says, and he can feel your disappointment by the hitch in your breath. “I promise. Just- Just kiss me, please. I don’t wanna think for a while.”

Your hand is soft compared to his skin, running past old scars, past his skin that is dry, and you move past his ear, burning hot to cup the back of his head and pull him into a kiss and that’s all the acceptance that he needs. Your body bumps against his, and while you are gentle, he is in a frenzy, ready to rid himself of emotion and just give in to you, and he lays above you with burning eyes. He isn’t sure what to make of it, to feel your body so soft and giving and it makes his itch. A burning desire to scratch infects him, ruins him to his core and he’s left choking against nothing, his body collapsing beside yours and his hands clawing towards you like a child scared of the dark. His nails run down his neck, and old wounds are opened, leaving him with bloody hands and poison that runs through his body and forces him to turn away from you.

“Tomura,” you coo, your hands over his arms, pulling him to see you. “Sweetheart, you’re safe, you’re safe.” You repeat it as if it’s the only thing that can hold him together, as if anything else said to him would cause him to fall apart before you. He’s cradled against your chest, and his hold on you is tight, nails digging into your arms and he’s alone with you for a moment. “You’re tired,” your words are said in a soft whisper and he can only nod. “Don’t rush yourself. You went through a lot-” your hand flutters over where his hand is bandaged, held together by a brace and it hurts in the worst possible way- “just take a breather, okay? You’re allowed to rest, you’re allowed to feel good.”

He is destruction, a burning sense of desire to watch the world crumble away, leaving only things that his comrades care about. And leaving you for him. He could care less about anything else, he just needs you at this very moment. You hold onto him, letting your lips press against the top of his head and he’s realized that he’s still in his suit, his shoes still on and dirtying the bed with the dirt beneath him.

“I’m getting the bed dirty,” he says and for the moment, that’s the only thing that matters. The bed you share with him is ruined by him. “I didn’t mean to,” he says without emotion, a blank slate for him to fill in and when you move away and shift yourself away from him and he looks at your wounded, so fearful, so resentful of everything that bubbled up, and he’s reaching out towards you, his hand latching onto yours while the other nudges against your thigh.

The corners of your lips tilt into a sad smile, and you hold his hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss softly at his knuckles that have been ravaged by his life. “I’m not going anyway,” you murmur against his skin. “Let me just help you change.” His hands are left empty, nipped by the cold air in the room.

It’s an intimate moment as he watches you fix your hair, your smile faint, but there as you fix yourself. The back of his hand is rubbed against his nose as he watches you untie his laces, his shoes removed and placed on the floor below the bed. In a brief moment of realization that he should help you, he shrugs off his jacket, letting it fall beside him, uncaring as it slips over the edge of the bed and crumples onto the floor. He struggles to unbutton the top of his shirt, fumbling with his fingers, the button catching and slipping and frustration starts to bloom. There’s a seed planted that he could just decay the shirt, but then your hands replace his and he’s left staring at you, watching as you slowly and delicately unbutton him, his shirt removed and his body chill.

Scars and bandages are wrapped against him, fresh gauze that is wrapped around his side, stuck to his skin and with his chest bare, his skin pricks with tiny bumps all over. “I’m cold,” he says, his mouth pulled into a frown.

You give him a soft hum and push yourself close to him, your lips pressed over a scar that curves around his chest. Your hands are pressed against his stomach, and with your touch, he feels vulnerable, as if it's his very soul that is bare and not him. He isn’t sure what to make of it, what he’s supposed to do as you kiss over every wound that decorates his body, your lips against his rib cage, and his heart beats faster with every kiss. He’s exhausted, but he forces his eyes to stay awake as you kiss him, as you let yourself hover over everything that he is, kissing his scars and brushing the tip of your nose against the edge of the gauze and he can only muster half a laugh, smiling at you, his hand combed between your hair as you look up at him.

“Let’s go to sleep, okay?” You rise and unbuckle his jeans for him, and he helps you shimmying out of them, his mouth pulled into a thin line when you pull down and accidently brush the rough material against a bruise.

The mattress cushions and molds to his shape as he sinks down and it’s much too soft for him. He isn’t used to something like this and yet, when the blanket that smells like spring covers against him, tucked under his chin and your arms that circle around him, everything is lifted off of him. Every overbearing weight, every hate and sadness is lifted from him and he’s left with exhaustion and the desire to just touch you. He turns around, his body close to being bare and his legs entangle with yours, and he buries himself into you, his eyes halfway closed and slowly, he pecks at your collarbone, his lips sticking to you and his breath is shaky and warm as he pulls away.

He wishes he could tell you what he needs to. He wishes that he could tell you everything, and that it wouldn’t change a thing and yet, he knows better. He knows you’d comfort him, give him the love and care he so desperately needed when he roamed the streets. He knows that you cradle him and treat him as if he were someone made out of porcelain. He needs you to think of him as someone strong, as someone who had gotten through life’s cruelty with only scars on his skin, not the repressed emotions of a child who was too scared to talk and reached for his mother’s arms.

“I got you Tomura,” you say his name as if it were something pure and sweet on your tongue, and he yearns for it. Your hands rub away the goosebumps over him and there’s a sort of light feeling that wraps around his heart. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? It’s just you and me.” His eyes are heavy and he focuses on how your chest rises and falls, how your fingertips tap against his body and circle over a smooth strip of skin that was once a scar, now healed. “I’ll be here for you.”

[diesukitsuki]

CW : WIP/not finished,  fluff, a little angst, Kaminari x Fem!Reader, not proofread

Synopsis: Denki’s lucky to have someone like you. 

note: I don’t see myself finishing this fic ever so i’m just going to post it..  it was originally inspired by the song Cannibal Queen by The Miniature Tigers. (also towards the end it’s a little rushed bc i was just putting my thoughts down)

It’s crazy how you let someone like him be around you, touch you, kiss you, love you. A guy who always fell too fast and too hard, always breathing it in like it’s the real thing. Like it’s love.

From Kaminari’s adolescence to his adult years, he’s always been a flirt, always grabbing a chance to be with a cute girl. Always trying to find love in the most obvious and subtle places.

He has even made it a habit to tear through a woman’s chest by tearing through their clothes first. Unsuccessfully, having heart to hearts by having their naked chest against his. Attempting to get into their minds by being in them. Maybe it was his way of subconsciously showing that he was afraid of dying first before finding true love, always rushing to find it, always tripping when he turns the wrong path because he assumed something more.

He was a pro hero, after all. A dead man walking—if you want to think like his brain at three in the morning. He doesn’t have time for those slow winded luxuries.

He had to live life in the fast lane.

When he meets you, he realizes that you were so.. unlike him: An average civilian with an average paying job whose feet ached as she took off her shoes to plop onto the couch after a hard day’s work of standing around. Who sleeps off the conbini bento—that you bought from the conbini a block away from the one that you work at because it “tasted better”—after chowing down on every bit of it until you wake up for work again. Only living it up on your days off by scrolling through your phone or getting some groceries to make a proper meal that you’ve been aching to do. Tired of feeling shitty after you eat microwaveable bentos for most of your week.

It was the kind of domesticity that Kaminari wishes for before he met you. It was one that his high school would’ve groaned about. Thinking it was boring and too routine, and maybe it was, but there’s rarely a familiarity in the days that pass him nowadays. There’s always something different. Always something wrong.

When his salary deemed him good enough to have a raise, he bought his ‘above average’ apartment filled with furniture since he lacked any— a fact he came to find out at the end of his second year at UA. His apartment looked over the glittering city that held the white diamond lights of the towering buildings and kept the critter of cars on the tar road where it lit in golds and rubies as they honked at each other. It was like his own personal treasure. Telling him the richness of life he’d been reaching for was right there in front of him. That he made it.

It’s crazy this magical shit grows old and adulterated. within a year.

He rarely has time to take in the sight at night. Always needing to run to the agency to start his patrol, then coming home to find the pale light of the morning sun blanch his apartment. His ‘above average’ apartment is now cold and clean. He’s thankful that if it weren’t for the maid, it would be a fucking pig sty. But as thankful as he is, he can’t help but feel uncomfortable with how spotless it is. It wasn’t sterile enough to be a hospital and not warm enough to seem like someone’s living in it.

Despite living in his own apartment, he usually spends his day off at his mom’s house. He itches for that familiar cacophony and warmth whenever he’s there. Enjoying the way his mom scolds him for not eating enough, telling him he looks so skinny before planting a plate of hamburger steak in front of him, before she scurries off to cut some fruit for him. In the background, there’s always that shitty speaker bleeding some old drama coming from a clunky, grey television that’s been around since he was a kid. He insisted on buying a new TV for her, but she waves it away, telling him to save his money for something better.

It was relieving to feel the warmth of a simple life when he was at his mom’s. He’d listen to his mother go on and on about the neighbors. It was always a little neighborly drama outside of her house even though there’s always one playing inside of her house. Sometimes he’d tell her he’s hungry, just so he can watch her cook and hear that dingy stove fan roar above her as it sucked out all the smoke, then he’d take the homemade meal to his apartment. Hoping to relive that feeling in his cold dining room in the city.

That warmth dissipates as soon as walks out of his home in the cold of night, reassuring his mom that the cold night wouldn’t make him sick— even if it did make him shiver a bit. He kisses her cheek goodbye, and makes his way home. He holds his tepid meal close to his chest as he travels down the dark street, feeling the glare of the bleach white streetlight on his back as he returns to the dreadful train like he always does.

Like the view of his city, it gets old. The warmth that he once felt has simmered into a painful reminder of what he didn’t have. All the sense of familiarity is still there, but it has worn down, feeling like he’s looking at a exhibit. The kind of exhibit that felt empty and hallow despite the many people meandering around, admiring the artifacts showcased.

He enjoyed the presence of his mom, enjoyed her meals, enjoyed her care, enjoyed the talks, but he realizes that it’s something that he’ll only have temporarily. That the cold morgue of an apartment awaits him in the city, and it’s something he’ll always see at the end of the day. It hurts that it had tainted the joy of his nostalgia in his childhood home. It hurts that it feels like he’s being punished for feeling good.

It’s funny how his mom was right. She had warned him multiple times to take a scarf or some gloves to keep himself warm, or else he’d get sick.. And he did. His face was flushed with a cold while his nose dropped pathetically when he had entered his home. His mother slaps the back of the head, scolding him for not taking care of himself before scurrying off to make some herbal soup that had some ginger and other assortments that would make his body hot.

After drinking up some soup and taking some medicine, she wrapped him up in the blanket before shoving his phone in his face instructing him to call his work before telling him that he’s going to stay home— not at the apartment. He reluctantly agrees with a sigh and a soft smile.

You were dining at the Seven-Eleven a block away from the one worked at when he met you for the first time. He had snuck out of the house-- like he had done a thousand times when he was in middle school--to go to the Seven-Eleven to aid his craving for junk food with a courteous medical mask intact.

“Welcome!” The feminine automated voice chimes as the huff of the automatic doors open for him as he stepped in. He notices that you were sitting at the table.. must be having a break he thinks. He scans the convenient store, searching for a particular junk food. He picks up the basket, and slings it around the crook of his arm. When he's done, he goes over to the counter,, he waits for you , but you don't move. so he moves over to you.

You don’t look up from your phone, still chewing one the sides that came with your meal, when you feel someone behind you.

Your scrolling stops.

“Um, excuse me..” You turn around. Your face fixed with confusion.

His heart stops when he looks at you.

Wow, You’re pretty.

Really pretty.

“I’d like to get ringed up, and if you want, I’d like to ring you up too.”

There’s a pause.

“Sorry, Sir. I don’t work here.”

He feels himself flush even more with embarrassment, stacking onto his cold ridden body. He feels shy under your confused gaze.

[votederpycausemufins]

-slams fists on table- part two! Notes are that I miss Grumbot and I feel like Scar gives off worried dad vibes and Scar and Grian feel like they’d be bickering siblings. again a ping to @petrichormeraki​ for making this au.

In spite of the revelation of this bee apparently somehow being Tubbo, Tommy did not react with yelling or screaming. Instead he started by just staring at the hive where he had fallen after tripping, thinking about the new knowledge. And then he screamed.

Responding to the scream, the bee, uh, Tubbo. Tubbee? Yeah Tubbee. Tubbee popped out of his hive and flew over to Tommy. Tommy, still not completely okay with what was going on, scrambled back a few blocks. Tubbee didn’t care and just flew all the way until he settled in Tommy’s lap. He nuzzled against Tommy, the spinning compass that was now on the floor once again pointing towards Tubbee before returning to spinning wildly.

“Okay. Fuck. What the fuck. Tubbo I know you like bees but this?” Tommy gave a nervous chuckle. “This is too fucking far.”

Tubbee buzzed happily, not seeming to realize Tommy’s distress about his current form. He then started to fly around Tommy, bopping against him happily as Tommy pulled out his communicator to send a message to all the Hermits that were around. ‘Something really fucking weird happened and I need help. Even from Xisuma if he can come back.’

Almost immediately a new message came in with a buzz. It was from Stress scolding Tommy for his language. The next was from Scar who was surprised Tommy needed Xisuma’s help and asked what was going on. As Tommy typed a response, just along the lines that it was hard to explain, Xisuma replied in the chat saying he was on his way.

Tommy set his phone back down and just sat on the ground in silence as he waited for the admin to arrive. The phone buzzed a few more times, but Tommy ignored it for the most part. There was a distant sound of a firework launching and the teen figured that would have to be Xisuma. Tubbee also seemed to hear the noise, because immediately after it sounded, he flew and hid inside the nearby hive.

A few seconds later, the door opened to Xisuma. He started to speak but was pushed aside by a panicked looking Scar. “What happened?! Why do you need X’s help?”

Tommy shoved away the second hermit who was already looking him over for any injury. “God, stop acting like my fucking mom. I just have a weird bee.”

“A what?” Scar pulled away suddenly, causing Tommy to almost fall over. Tubbee decided this was the perfect time to come out of his hive and fly over to Tommy for comfort. “Oh, that kind of b.”

Xisuma looked between Tubbee and the hive. “It looks like it’s using the hive correctly, though it is still attracted to you. Are you sure you don’t have any-”

“I don’t have any fuckin’ flowers. And it’s not a normal bee.” As Tommy talked, he wasn’t really paying attention to the fact that he was now subconsciously holding Tubbee and petting him. “I think my friend died and is a bee now.”

Both Scar and X just stood there, staring at Tommy and Tubbee. Before either of them could speak, the door slammed open again. “What happened?! Why do you need X’s help?” Grian shouted.

After a bit of calming down and making sure no more hermits would come racing over out of nowhere, Tommy explained about his friend who really liked bees, how the two of them had special compasses pointing to each other, how they would be in different servers but the compass was pointing to this bee. As the various Hermits talked, Tubbee decided it was a good time to explore and buzzed about the old hobbit hole.

“You’re saying this bee is your friend… reincarnated or something?” Grian asked skeptically.

“That’s the best clue I have.” Tommy answered with a shrug. “Not like I have much to go on. I’m not gonna drop back home and ask around saying ‘Hey, Tubbo die while I was gone?’ cause no matter what they wouldn’t let me back.”

“I can try and get some of my old magic crystals and try them on him.” Scar piped up before getting a shove from Grian.

“Those things don’t work.” Grian chided before being shoved back.

“A man-!” “Teen.” “-Teen has been turned into a bee, I doubt my crystals are that useless in a time like this.”

Xisuma carefully separated the two other Hermits. “Before you do that, I’m going to try having a look at his code. See if there’s any truth to the claim first.”

The comment hurt Tommy. “What, you don’t believe me?” Xisuma tried backtracking but Tommy stopped him. “Of course there’s something! Bees don’t just fucking act like that and compasses don’t just point at bees.” Tommy grabbed his compass from the floor and held it up. It spun wildly for a few seconds and one of the hermits was about to point that out when the needle changed its mind and pointed to Tubbee for the same amount of time before spinning around again.

Grian’s eyes widened and he managed to speak first. “That is bonkers. I’ve never seen that before! X, what does the bee say?”

“Can’t say much of anything.” Scar half mumbled, getting a jab in the ribs from Grian.

Xisuma turned his gaze to Tubbee and carefully grabbed him. Tubbee panicked for a few moments, but realized he wasn’t in any harm and let himself be held by such a large and kind looking bee.

X didn’t usually take advantage of his admin powers, at most messing with the end files every so often so the Hermits could get more shulker boxes. This was much different than that. Still Xisuma looked at the code of the bee. There was nothing there that directly seemed to be player code. There was something that resembled it, but nothing concrete. It just seemed like a, pardon the pun, a bugged bee.

“There’s something off, but it doesn’t seem like this bee is another player.” Xisuma informed Tommy, letting Tubbee go.

“What? Of course he is! This has to be Tubbo!” Tommy was taken aback by X’s claims. “Isn’t there someone else that’s better at this than you.”

“Tommy...” Scar spoke gently, but Tommy just turned and yelled at the mayor.

“Shut up! And don’t try using any magic mumbo jumbo on him!” Tommy grabbed Tubbee as he tried to explore again.

Grian tried holding in a laugh, but Tommy noticed and glared at him. “Look, I know some hermits had some machines last season that could tell fortunes or whatever, but we don’t really have that many here this season. I mean, there’s Grumbot, but he’s…”

No longer glaring, Tommy nearly jumped happily at the words. “Who’s Grumbot? Is ‘e another admin here?”

“No, no. He was uh, so I had Mumbo run for mayor and we built this robot to give us information on how to actually help him run for mayor and give mayoral advice, but he didn’t really-” Grian was scratching the back of his head, not sure how to explain it all to Tommy when the teen cut him off.

“Tubbo was president back home, maybe that’s close enough to mayor. Where is he?”

“Tommy, slow down.” Scar chimed in. “ I mean, uh, I’m the mayor, so Grumbot didn’t really help. Plus, didn’t you have to pay him diamonds for every question.”

Grian groaned. “Yes. I don’t know why that was ever a good design idea. He also had a mental breakdown when he thought Mumbo lost so we kinda… lied to him and told him Mumbo did become mayor and now he’s living in a virtual reality box.”

Tommy wracked his brain, trying to remember why that sounded familiar before he remembered. “You mean that mustache box off the coast of the shopping district? I’ve seen it a few times boating back home from there.”

Grian tried to backtrack, but it was obvious anything else was a lie. Tommy ran to the various chests, rummaging around until he found a spare lead.”C’mon Tubbo, let's go see this Grumbot.

Grian tried talking out of it, but Scar stopped him to talk with Tommy instead. Pulling the teen over to the side, he started to scold Tommy before lowering his voice. “Look, I don’t know if that machine is gonna work for you or not, but this seems important to you. From what I can tell you need to put the diamond in and press the buttons in order or something.” As Scar pretended to go back to scolding Tommy, he slipped a diamond into the boy’s hand. “Well, hopefully he’ll listen to reason.”

Getting what Scar was trying to do, Tommy put the lead away and sat down. “Yeah… guess I’ll just have to use what I know right now.”

Grian looked a little suspicious, but Scar managed to lead him out. Xisuma started to follow them out, but turned to Tommy and asked him to send updates. Tommy nodded and pet Tubbee, trying not to get too restless as he sat there to wait.

After waiting so long that Bdubs had to call the sun back, Tommy pulled out his lead again and built a boat. Carefully tying the lead around Tubbee, he climbed into the boat and tied the other end to one of the oars before paddling towards spawn. Eventually, he reached the large white box, and noticed that the mustache was not actually on the box, but a different building further on. Because of that, Tommy doubted about if Grumbot would be here, but when he found an opening and went in with Tubbee, he saw the computer.

Tommy expected something much smaller but Grumbot was huge and a bit overwhelming. He seemed to be staring off into the distance, and when Tommy looked that way, he saw recreation of the shopping district.

Pulling the diamond that Scar gave him out of his pocket, Tommy waked to the base of Grumbot and looked at the labeled buttons. He pressed the one labeled prime Grumbot and flinched at the slight grinding noise that came from the machine. While that made Tommy reluctant about the idea, he had already come all the way out here and started the process, so he might as well finish it up.

Next he pressed the boot load brain button and then the flood mayoral reservoirs one. More noises sounded from the machine and then Tommy looked at the last label. ‘Deposit Question Diamond.’ He was about to just put it in before he saw the anvils. After dying the other day, Tommy didn’t have many levels, but he had at least one.

Putting the diamond in an anvil, Tommy renamed it with a question and placed it in the machine and pressed the final button. Trying to help, Tubbee also bopped against the button as Tommy stepped back to look at the screen of Grumbot. The happy eyes changed to standard ones, and then they looked down as a paper dispensed.

Tommy ran back over to the machine and grabbed the paper to read it. There were only four words on it and just seeing the number nearly made Tommy tear it up, but then he actually comprehended the words. ‘Use the fourth button.’

Tommy looked back at the buttons and noticed the 4th one was made of a block. Pulling it out, he then placed it into the nearby mechanism and pressed the other three buttons. It took a bit of finagling to use the fourth button, what with it now missing. But then the screen glitched and then it glitched again. Tommy looked between the screen and the answer printer, angry to see no response. With that anger, he kicked Grumbot, and then the screen stopped glitching.

“Ah, just what I needed. A good kick to the ribs.” Tommy swore and fell to the ground at the booming voice that came from Grumbot. Tubbee was also scared by it and cowered next to Tommy. Looking up, he saw the screen no longer glitching and the previously stiff face looking very animated as it looked around, eventually looking down at Tommy.

“So, you’re the one who wants my help, yes?” The booming voice spoke again, making Tommy cover his ears this time. “Oh sorry, I guess I’m a bit too loud.” Grumbot apologized as he lowered his voice.

Tommy, having no clue how Grumbot was supposed to act, didn’t find his voice and much more emotive face odd. “Yeah, uh. So Grian told me that you did mayoral stuff and while it’s not the same, I have a friend who is, or was , a president and wondered if you could help with that?”

Grumbot’s face tilted as his computer head could not. “Your first diamond was asking about the status of a ‘President Tubbo’. While I have been here with only the occasional visit, I’ve had time for my redstone brain and so to upgrade and find new databases and reservoirs.”

“Uh… does that mean you know that-“ Tommy started to speak but was cut off.

“Yes. I know now my dad did not win the election. At the time, that was my only purpose. I was upset when I learned the truth when you activated me, but I have new purpose and my dads just did what they could to care for me.”

Tommy just nodded, not completely sure what all of that meant, more from not paying attention. “Okay, well I think my friend who was president elsewhere got turned into this bee.” And Tommy held up Tubbee.

Grumbot ‘leaned’ closer to see Tubbee and then looked at the data he received about a president Tubbo. “Your friend was not turned into a bee.”

Tommy frowned at the answer, arms falling to his sides, Tubbee now free to do more exploring. “What do you mean, my compass is supposed to point to Tubbo and it points to this bee, so it has to be Tubbo! He loves the things so much it makes sense he would become one.”

Grumbot added the new information to his data. “Well, that is neither your dead friend returned to life as a bee, nor your friend disguised as one. It is instead something else.”

Protests Tommy had been about to sling at the robot died in his throat and was replaced with a new question. “What is it then?”

Grumbot paused, making sure he could get all the data he had access to and could help. “Your world is… different.” The AI started slowly. “You can lose lives and eventually truly die. But you don’t just die and decide one is a true life lost. When that happens, you… lose a piece of you. Enough times and what makes you you can’t exist in a body anymore.”

Tommy interrupted Grumbot. “So Tubbo is a ghost possessing the bee?”

The AI glared at Tommy for a few seconds, screen background turning a certain shade of red. But then he calmed. “No, your friend is still alive, but he has had one of those special deaths happened. It was before you arrived here in Hermitcraft. That death broke off a piece of his soul and it managed to end up here. Whether the piece was active the whole time or it only activated once you, a familiar being, drew near, I cannot say.”

Tommy processed the information before asking a clarifying question. So, the bee is only like a piece of Tubbo?”

A piece of paper was printed out and then Grumbot’s screen went dark. Tommy grabbed the paper and read the word ‘Yes.’ There was also a post script asking for Tommy to kill Scar for the AI which Tommy laughed at. He then got the lead back around Tubbee and headed home.

Even if it wasn’t really Tubbo, Tommy found Tubbee comforting. Maybe even if this piece of Tubbo was here, Tubbo could feel Tommy on the other end, trying to care for his friend. Xisuma came to visit Tommy again after a few days and heard from Tommy what Grumbot had said. Grian came later that same day and freaked out when he learned about Grumbot, leaving almost immediately to go find Mumbo who was also online.

Scar was the last to show up. He was glad to find out that Tommy had piece of mind, but was also a bit salty about the fact he was stabbed and killed the moment he walked through the door, though it was his own fault for getting there at half a heart from crashing into so much while flying.

[kiranogareru]

VIOLENT BEAUTY OF LOVE

Warning: Mention of blood, death, Hanahaki disease and probably cursing, because I curse a lot, may give you the feels

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

A/n: Tried 3rd person view for this, feedback is welcome! Also, I don't know where I'm going with this, so let's take this journey together😅

Katsuki jolted up in his bed, eyes wide and holding a wild look of horror in them!

His throat feeling like it was being ripped apart from the inside, as the burning sensation of brutal scratches from within began to restrict his airflow!

'No, not again..' he thought in realization as he started coughing

He choked and gasped, desperately trying to force some air into his aching lungs! His eyes welling up and unintentionally staining his cheeks with tears

The feeling was unbearable, the agony making him subconsciously reach for his neck with both hands, in a futile attempt to somehow soothe the pain, but alas..there was nothing that could be done

Katsuki kept his condition a secret, not wanting anyone to think he's weak. He's been dealing with this for months all on his own, fighting it day in and day out and the worst part is he doesn't even know what's wrong with him!

At first it wasn't as bad, so Katsuki brushed it off as a stupid cold, but the symptoms kept worsening and no medication seemed to work

As the all-too-familiar metallic taste rose to his mouth, Katsuki knew exactly what would happen

He pushes himself up and off the bed, planning to run to the bathroom, using the last of his strength, but as soon as he stands, his legs give out and he drops to the cold, hard floor of his dorm, knees scraping upon Impact!

Katsuki is now supporting his weight with one arm and gripping at the collar of his shirt with the other,as his coughing fit continues, until his pain spills itself on the tiled surface beneath him

Y/N was so concerned about Bakugou, he had been missing several classes, he seemed disconnected and tired during most of his training sessions these past few weeks

Losing sleep and performing anything less than perfect on the battle field, isn't like him, in fact it is so uncommon that it became an instant tell that something was wrong with the normally, fierce blonde!

Though the weirdest thing ought to be the unusual aura that radiated off of him. He was mostly calm and very quiet!

Y/N is one of the few people that Bakugou has allowed into his life, he trusts her! They're personalities are very similar and that provides Katsuki with a sense of comfort and understanding!

This lead the duo to become close friends, but without realizing friendship turned to love...the one-sided kind to be exact

Y/N had just woken up to multiple messages from Eijirou, saying how Bakugou sounds sick again

Kiri: Do you mind checking on him? If any of us go he'll feel like we're looking down on him for being sick

Fuck, Eijirou was right, Katsuki would mistake the Bakusquad's concern for pity

Y/N found herself at Katsuki's door, worried at the sounds coming from the other side

She was unsure whether she should knock or simply enter and help him, but his shaky breaths and quiet sobs convinced her to do the latter!

She cracks the door open and pushes it gently, slipping into the room

What she's met with, leaves her in shock, her mind unable to form words at the sight in front of her and her gorgeous orbs prickled with building tears!

Right there on the floor, was a barely conscious Katsuki, lying in a pool of flowers, petals and what she could only assume was his own blood!

Never before had she witnessed a thing so mesmerizing, yet so damn cruel! She didn't even know such a combination could be achieved!

It made her angry that this...this violent beauty of love was possible!

Why did such tragedy, such pain have to befall the boy she loves?

Y/N kneels next to Katsuki and cradles his exhausted form, observing her dear friend closely. His vermillion eyes glassy and puffy, tear-streaked cheeks, blood and petals smeared on his lips and chin!

The saddened, soft expression she was wearing, while gently caressing his cheek, made him wish he could dissapear! As much as he loves being in her warm embrace, he despises the fact that she is there!

Bakugou never wanted her to see him like this, so vulnerable and beaten down, so- so fucking weak! He'd rather her think of him as anything, but weak!

He hated that out of all people, she had to be the one to walk in and catch him at his lowest!

His handsome face, was tainted with pain and she fucking hated that! It made her sick to her stomach, to see someone so strong, look so distraught!

Y/N carefully rested Katsuki's head on her lap, brushing some stray, spiky locks of ash blonde hair, out of his face

She couldn't help but wonder how long he's been suffering for and who could possibly be the cause of the heartbreking disease, the one of unreturned feelings, better known as Hanahaki!

How could someone that managed to win Katsuki Bakugou's heart, throw away their chance and deny his love? It just didn't make sense to her!

Some sort of awkward tension was thick in the atmosphere of the room, as silence spread between them, but she couldn't quite pinpoint why..

"Why didn't you say anything dumbass?" She asked, with a halfhearted smile on her lips, using his nickname for her, in an attempt to lighten the mood

"I can handle it on my own, I don't need these extras thinking they can surpass me just because I'm sick" He grumbled, his voice coming out strained

"You're too stubborn for your own good, you know that?" Her question was clearly rhetorical, since both of them knew the answer

"So...who is it?" She finally questioned, voicing the thought that was stuck in her head

Katsuki gave her a strange look, one that implied he had no idea what the Hell she was talking about!

"Huh?" Was all that left his lips

"Who are you in love with?" She hesitantly asked

Bakugou quickly sat up, his back now facing her, as he suddenly started coughing once again, his breaths shallow and sharp!

She couldn't bare the scene that was unfolding in front of her very eyes! His body was a trembling mess, while he struggled to breath, flowers coated by his blood spattering from his mouth and hitting the floor, like some type of poetic murder scene!

She desperately wanted to help him, but didn't know how, or what she could possibly do!

As Katsuki started to calm down, Y/N went to get some wipes from his drawer

Both teens sat down, this time on Katsuki's bed. She cupped his face and begun to clean him up

"Whoever the fuck said I'm in love? And what does that even have to do with anything?" His voice was hoarse and his tone cold as he spoke

His words took her by surprise, since she was so shook up that she forgot she had even asked him something!

'Did he not know?' Y/N thought to herself

"I figured- because of..the flowers?" She stuttered out, her statement sounding more like a question if anything

"What about those damn flowers?" He spat in confusion, with a scowl on his face

"Katsuki..." She softly spoke, taking a hand of his in her own, her other resting on his cheek "do you not know why you're sick?"

He felt his chest tighten at the contact, but kept an unfazed facade, as he proceeded to lock eyes with her

"Don't look at me like that!" He suddenly snapped

"Like what?" She asked, perplexed as to what she did wrong

"I can see the fucking pity in your eyes!" He growled "It's just an illness! It's not like I'm fucking dying Y/N!" He angrily yanked her hand off of him and looked away

"Katsu you- you are dying..." Her voice cracked and trailed off, eyes brimming with tears, that were threatening to spill

"You have Hanahaki. Look around you, the plant in your lungs has grown so much, that you're coughing up fully grown-" Her words caught in her throat, as she pointed to the blossoms, picking one up to examine it closer, only to discover that these were her favourite flowers, even the colour was right!

"Hanahaki?" Bakugou looked heartbroken "I thought it wasn't real"

He'd heard stories about it ever since he was little, but never knew anyone who had actually experienced it! But apparently life has a funny way of teaching you things

It all made sense to him now! He already knew he was starting to fall for her, but now he also knew how Y/N felt and this only gave him two options!

He could either, suffer a little more as a lovesick puppy, until he dies, or get a surgery that will remove the problem from it's literal roots and risk losing all memory of the girl he loves and possibly the ability to love again!

As he was deep in thought, Y/N turned to him, flower in hand and with tears streaming from her eyes to match her broken smile

"It's not me..it can't be me" She mumbled out, gaze on the floor as she couldn't bring herself to face him

"Y/N it is you! I'm in love with you!" He confessed, his head resting against hers, those lively ruby orbs of his staring at the flower in her palm, while his hands cupped hers

"Please don't say that.." She sniffled, reaching into her pocket with her free hand and pulling something out "I don't want to be the one who did this to you"

She opened her fist, showing him petals of a flower he didn't recognize "I don't want to be the one who hurt you!"

'How could I have been so dense, so oblivious? Of course she loves someone else' Katsuki felt his heart shatter like a mirror, the pain returning, as he let out a sigh and pulled her into a tight embrace

He tried his hardest not to break down in tears, not to let the flowers suffocate him and allow this moment to be his last memory! Just her in his arms!

"Don't cry Y/N, I'll be alright! This is not your fault! I'll get the surgery and I'll be alright!" He rubbed the small of her back to soothe her

"But what if you forget about me? I don't want to lose you!" She cried

"I would never forget about you!" He told her sternly

"Do you promise?" She asked, like a line from some cheesy love story

"I promise, but only if you go into surgery too! I don't want you to end up in pain" He admitted

"Okay, I'll do it" Even though Bakugou tried to reassure her, she feels guilty and is willing to do this if it means he will be happy

As the days passed and the time for the surgery came around the teens went their separate ways, since their appointments were registered in different hospitals, or at least that's what Bakugou told Y/N

In reality he had simply asked principle Nezu if he could visit his parents that day for personal reasons and stayed with them

Mitsuki gave her son a whole lecture, but after he got fed up, he decided to tell her and Masaru the truth...or part of it anyway

Meanwhile Y/N was in another part of Musutafu, lying on an operating table

Two days later they were back to UA, trying to catch up on assignments. Y/N had no recollection of her prior love interest and Bakugou had no intention of telling her that he never went to the hospital!

"Yaho Katsuuu" She greeted, as he entered the kitchen. It was their turn to clean it today

"Huh?" He tilted his head to the side "Which extra are you again?" He asked playfully

Her shocked expression made him laugh "That's not funny!" She pouted "You scared me!" She said, before smacking him on the head

"It was funny to me dumbass" He said as he proceeded to wipe the table

Y/N was happy that everything seemed to have gone back to normal, she loved seeing him smile

But little did she know...

By the end of that same month, Bakugou was found dead in his dorm, which resembled a cursed garden of blood-soaked flowers! Some stems and thorns were coming out of his mouth, while others had pierced through his lifeless chest! The scene was gut wrenching!

Aizawa was the one who found him, after Y/N pointed out that he had never followed the rest of the class out of the dorms

The dorms were immediately sealed, so none of the students could see the traumatizing sight!

However Y/N had a feeling that she knew what had happened to the fiery hero-in-training and she couldn't help but blame herself for it

[vive-la-revolution]

I heard you were in need of Lams prompts/AU’s! So here you go!

If you could, could do modern Lams AU where John’s in the military and he comes home after a year apart from Alex and when the rest (besides Alex) heard the news that John was coming home, they decided to take Alex a restraunt or something and, still in uniform, John comes in to surprise Alex? Could it also be in their historical appearances? Kind of fluffy and cute yet emotional at the same time.

i kid you not i was wanting to write something almost exactly like this i just needed the motivation from someone, so, thanks!

— —

“Mon ami, you must come with us,” Lafayette’s heavily accented voice echoed through the phone, which Alexander held loosely in his hand as he paced the living room, “we’ve already made the reservations and I promised the boys you’d be there.”

Alex sighed, running a hand through his unruly auburn curls. “Gil, you know I’m in no state, physically or mentally, to go out with you guys. I just... need some time alone.”

He could practically hear Lafayette’s exasperation over the line, and he bit his lip.

“Alexander, you have needed some time alone for the past year and a half. We get you’re still anxious about our dear John-”

“Don’t say his name,” Alex interjected suddenly, “please.”

Although he hated the newfound weakness in his voice, he really couldn’t stand hearing the name. Alexander’s fiancé, John Laurens, had been drafted into the army overseas more than a year ago. He’d been fretting over him ever since.

A staticky sigh was heard on the call, jerking Alex back to reality. “Alright, oui, I understand. I won’t mention him again,” A pause. “But please, Alex, I am begging you, come out just this once. We’ll leave you alone from now on but we miss the real you.”

A moment’s hesitation.

“Fine,” Alexander reluctantly agreed. “But you’re not to ask anything else of me.”

“Deal.”

A beep, and the line went dead.

Alexander clicked his phone off, setting it facedown onto the coffee table. He knew Gilbert had a point; he had practically ghosted all of his friends over the past while, and it was about time he socialized with them again.

Within the next thirty minutes, Alex had managed to make himself look... somewhat presentable. All he knew was that Lafayette had made reservations at some restaurant — and with his spontaneousness, whether is was McDonald’s or some fancy Italian place was anybody’s guess — so Alexander settled for just a white button-up and some jeans. At least, it seemed nice compared to his typical sweatpants and t-shirts as of late. His wavy hair now laid untangled around his shoulders, a hairtie snapped around his wrist.

But when he looked in the mirror, he still saw the same, tired, empty person he was without John.

Alex nearly jumped when he heard a car beeping from outside, and rolled his eyes as he made his way to the door. He flung it open to see Lafayette waving enthusiastically from the drivers’-seat-window. He couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s about time I saw your face again,” Gil said as Alex climbed into the passenger seat, a laugh underlining his words. “Almost forgot what you looked like.”

Alex scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Sure. Now where the hell are you taking me?”

“You’ll see,” Gil tsked.

The rest of the ride was silent, besides the low hum of the radio. Alex found that to be a bad thing, as he was left alone with his thoughts.

Ever since John had left, he hadn’t stopped panicking. He promised he’d come home, but what if he came home seriously injured? Dying? In a box? His hands began to wring together involuntarily, and Lafayette touched them gently to stop the movement.

“Stop worrying,” he whispered, “he’s going to be fine.”

You don’t know that. Alexander thought, feeling a springing sense of remorse. He bit his tongue to stop from actually saying the words.

They fell back into silence for the next fifteen minutes, until they arrived at a fancy-looking restaurant. Alex wished he’d made himself look nicer. That was when he noticed the smile creeping to Gilbert’s face.

“What are you smirking about?” he inquired, raising an eyebrow.

Lafayette shrugged and twisted the keys, turning the car off. “Nothing. Ben, Tench, and Richard are already here,” he said, changing the subject as he referenced their friends.

Part of Alexander wished it had just been the two of them, as he wasn’t sure quite what to say to everyone else, but the other half didn’t mind. Taking a moment to put himself in the right mindset, Alex exited the car.

He stuck his hands in his pockets as Lafayette led him to the front door, checking in, then walking to their table, where three other boys already sat. He waved awkwardly to them as he took a seat at the foot of the table.

“Hey, Alex, how’re you holding up?” a voice asked. Alexander looked up to see the sympathetic face of his friend Benjamin Tallmadge. In response, he only shrugged.

Most conversation ceased after that, though Alex couldn’t help but catch glimpses of smiles being flashed between the four others.

He ordered the first thing on the menu he saw, nothing particularly piquing his interest nor appetite. He wasn’t hungry, but he didn’t want the whole ordeal to be for nothing.

Alex continued to pretend to not see the clear expressions of mischief being passed around the table. If they were trying to hide something, none of them were very good at it. He didn’t see what they could possible be joking about, not when John wasn’t here to joke with them.

Alexander began subconsciously twisting the ring on his finger, trying not to let his anxiety overwhelm him. The few scattered chattering from throughout the room were closing in on him, making him feel excessively claustrophobic in the large area. He just wanted to leave; leave and be with John again.

After what felt like eons, their dinner finally arrived, but Alex couldn’t make himself eat. He scraped his fork around on his plate, stirring around the contents of his dish.

For a moment, he thought he heard a voice he recognized.

Perking up a little, he finally gave into pointing out the blatant signs of secret-keeping between his friends. “What are you guys...” He trailed off, noticing their faces brighten as all four pairs of eyes drifted to stare behind Alex.

Ben jerked his head in the direction his gaze was, silently signaling for Alex to turn around. Huffing, he obliged and twisted in his seat.

The table, the room, the world went silent. He knew who it was before he saw their face.

Alexander stood without realizing he’d done so, doing all but everything to keep his jaw from falling slack.

As his eyes traveled upwards, an all-too-familiar face greeted him.

“John,” he breathed. His blond hair was shorter, his blue eyes were tired, and there was a light stubble on his chin, but it was John all the same. His John. Alexander bit his bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

“Alexander,” John whispered, opening his arms. Alex was quick to run into them, his hands grabbing fistfuls off John’s too-loose coarse uniform. “Oh, my Alexander,”

Alex found himself crying, tears of pure joy rolling down his face as he buried it into John’s shoulder. He couldn’t make himself say anything, knowing his voice wouldn’t allow it without breaking.

John’s hand rested at the nape of Alex’s neck, his other around his back, holding him close. Barely a single word was exchanged between the pair, pierced only by the occasional “I love you,” from whoever could manage.

When Alex finally looked up to meet John’s eyes again, his own were wet and he was smiling uncontrollably. John’s face didn’t appear much different, and he wiped away the stray tear that was still stuck on Alexander’s face.

Before he processed what he was doing, Alex looped both his arms around John’s neck and pulled him down, catching his lips in a passionate kiss. He knew they were probably being watched, and who knew how many ‘phobes were in the building, but he didn’t care at all. He had his John back.

Both of John’s hands rested on the small of Alex’s back, holding the smaller man as close as he could to deepen the kiss.

They stayed in that position for what seemed like forever, before finally pulling away, as breathing is among the human necessities.

Alex lowered his hands, and as he did so, John grabbed ahold of one of them. He did what Alex had been earlier, and spun the silver ring around Alexander’s finger. John let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank God, you kept it,”

“Of course I kept it!” Alexander said, his voice bright. “Even if you didn’t come back, I would’ve kept it,” The words were easier to say, now that he knew he was safe. “But you came back. You came home,” He hugged John again, his head resting on his chest. “Home to me.”

John left a kiss into Alex’s russet waves.

“Home to you.”

[sammystep]

No One Lives Forever- CH3

(AO3 link)

Stardust Crusader Wolf Pack AU

[From the beginning- CH1]

<Previous Chapter     Next Chapter>

Joseph always knew his grandson had a big heart to match that big body of his, he was a Joestar after all. But unlike his mother and his grandpa, Jotaro didn’t tend to wear his heart on his sleeve. He kept his emotions hidden, like how he would keep his eyes hidden behind that silly hat. So, Joseph isn’t surprised when Kakyoin rushes into the clearing by the cabin where he and Polnareff have been on guard and announces that Jotaro is bringing someone back with him from the fight. An injured someone.

What does surprise him is Kakyoin’s insistence that he and Pol make themselves scarce for the time being. Apparently Jotaro is still keyed up from the fight and it would be best not to disturb him and their mystery guest while he came down off the high of transforming and fighting. What could have bothered Jotaro so much that he wouldn’t want to see his own Grandpa after a fight?

He and Pol make themselves useful. For a while. Scouting around away from the cabin. Trying to pick up the scent of any others that may be in the area or getting too close to their new territory. Doing outside chores…. But there is only so much wood he can chop and haul! He’s dying to know what’s going on in the cabin!

Finally, Avdol makes his way out to where they were working- its all clear to come back to the cabin now but their guest is resting so please be quiet -Mr. Joestar! Well, that’s a little unfair. He’s not that much louder than Polnareff when he’s excited.

Entering the main lounge of the cabin he sees why Avdol called him out, and was right to do so. The domestic scene of his grandson and a woman he’s never met resting on the large couch by the fireplace has him slapping his hand over his mouth to prevent the “OH MY GOD!” from coming out. Oh, this calls for celebration!  Hm, he may be getting ahead of himself here though.

Jotaro finally notices his presence in the room and he see’s the boy’s muscles jump and fists clench like he’s going to leap right out of his seat. Yeah, his instincts are still in overdrive. The need to protect this new potential mate too great to ignore, especially after fighting to bring her to safety. He’ll have to be delicate in how he breaches this subject. Jotaro may be academically and strategically savvy, but his emotional intelligence leaves something to be desired.

Perhaps it would be best to not talk about it directly.

Joseph makes his way to the overstuffed armchair across from the couple on the couch. Enough space between the alpha wolves to be comfortable but still have a conversation. He gets a better look at the mystery woman as he studies the scene more closely. She was a looker alright, but the bandages and smell of blood lingering in the air is disturbing to him, he can only imagine how Jotaro is feeling behind that emotional wall he builds up. “Did I ever tell you the story about how your great Uncle Caesar and I defeated the Proto-Fae?”

“Only every chance you get.” Jotaro smirks as he shakes his head and leans back into the couch.

Joseph just laughs, “Well yes, I suppose I tell that one often. But have I ever told you about the time one of them almost killed your grandma Suzie?”

Jotaro’s breathing stutters to a halt and his eyes narrow on his grandpa.

“Relax, relax. I saved her. It all worked out in the end. But now you know the end of the story let me tell you the beginning and the middle.” Joseph settles further back into the chair and Jotaro subconsciously copies his move.

“It was the day after I had defeated the 2nd Proto-Fae, Esidisi. I had just returned from the battle to the main rooms, but what I didn’t know was that the parasite had attached himself to me and hitched a ride inside and out of the sun! The bastard was nothing but a pile of nerves, like a jellyfish! He snuck away without me realizing he was there and the next thing I know, he’s possessed poor Susie Q.” Joseph sighs and runs a hand through his greying hair. He looks to the fire as he seems to gather himself.

“That fight. I had to fight Susie to save her from that beast. It was by far the worst fight I’ve ever been in. The first time I smelled her blood, my instincts just went into overdrive. Up until that day I had only passingly considered courting her, I wasn’t ready for a mate and the whole ‘Beasts taking over the world’ thing was going on. But she was in danger. And suddenly I knew that I had to be the one to save her, I had to keep her safe, keep her close always.”

He leans back again and claps his hands to his knees quietly, “I did end up outsmarting the bastard a second time with Caesars help- had to wait for the sun to come up and enter the room before I could fling him off of her and watch him burn. The next day was the second hardest day in my life, I had to leave her to recover by herself to fight the last two monsters.” Joseph sigs again looking a little deflated and more his age. “I swore to her I’d come back for her.” His mood suddenly shifts as he exclaims, “Ha, what she didn’t know was that I promised myself that if I did die, I was going to come back as a ghost and haunt her anyway!”

“Ah, but you know the rest of the story from there. We fight the last two, we all live, everything works out in the end. But those two days. Those two are the worst days of my life. Now,” Joseph leans forward and nods to the still sleeping woman, “I’m not saying that’s what’s going on with you, but finding a possible mate – especially when they need you – it will drive your instincts crazy. Pay attention to your instincts, you have them for a reason.”

“Good grief. Is that what the point of that story was?” Jotaro shakes his head but doesn’t move to flee the area like Joseph anticipated he would if feelings were being discussed. He actually seems to relax further as he looks down at the woman sleeping on his lap. Jotaro looks at his hand holding hers like he just realized it was his own.

“That would explain… I killed the hunting group that did this to her. Even after they started to retreat. I didn’t slow down or stop to question who they were or why they were here. I… lost myself. The only thing I could think of was finding her again. Bring her back here, where she’d be safe.” Jotaro looks up again, searching his grandpas face for understanding. “Kakyoin met me halfway here.”

“Yes, he was the one to shoo Pol and I away.”’

“I didn’t want even Kakyoin to see her, no one should see her hurt. Vulnerable. I guess what I’m saying is, it makes a little more sense now. If my instincts are locked onto her being a possible mate.”

“You’re forgetting something though.” Jotaro raises and eyebrow at the older alpha. “You are a Joestar by blood. When we find a mate, that’s it. Think back, how many girls threw themselves at you growing up? Knowing you, you only ever felt annoyed by them, right? I’m not claiming to be an expert on everything going on in that noggin of yours, but like I said, listen to your instincts. Joestar instincts are never wrong about this kind of thing.”

Jotaro looks annoyed for a moment but ultimately just sighs and looks away with a nod. He gets the feeling his grandson is going to need more convincing later but for now its enough that he got the gears in motion. Whatever is going to happen is out of his hands now.

With that Joseph stands and makes his way to the kitchen to help Avdol with the food. Or just steal some of the meal being prepared and dash before he’s caught.

<Previous Chapter     Next Chapter>

I’m going to aim for at least once weekly updates for this story, I have a fair bit of vacation time and no where to go this year so I’m going to get a head start!

[daylight-imagines]

Miss Me? Part 7

Kol Mikaelson x Reader

Warning(s): some violence that’s normal for the show

Word Count:  1482

part 6 | series masterlist

---

You let out a sigh when you walked into the Abattoir. It was quiet in the courtyard, and you couldn’t hear anyone on any of the other levels. You turned and made your way up the stairs and walked the halls to find something to occupy your mind. But you couldn’t help checking the time on your phone every few minutes. Kol would be meeting you soon to go to a doctor's appointment. It was your first appointment since you found out you were pregnant. You thought you would be excited, but you were just terrified. All the things that could go wrong were on a constant stream in your mind. Nothing you tried made you feel any better. One of the doors on the hall you were walking down was open, so you took a step inside as your phone started to ring.  Caroline’s name was on the screen so you picked up.

“You answered!”

You laughed as you looked around the office you had entered. “I usually do.”

“I thought you had an appointment today.”

“It’s not for a few more hours.”

You walked over to the wall lined with bookshelves and looked through the titles.

"Great! We have plenty of time."

"For?" The rustling of paper made its way through the phone.

"Baby names."

You laughed. It was definitely like Caroline to be thinking this far in advance. 

"Caroline, we have a long time before we need to worry about names."

"Come on, you mean you and Kol haven't talked about it at all? Just the two of you laying in bed at night talking about what to name your baby."

"We tend to do other things in bed late at night."

Caroline made a gagging sound causing you to laugh. "Ok, There are some things I don't need to hear about."

"We don't even know if it's be a boy or a girl."

"That's why you make ideas for both."

You rolled your eyes and settled into an armchair in the room. This conversations wasn’t ending soon and you were glad for the distraction from your previous train of thought.

"I'm guessing you already have ideas."

"Of course I do, but mine don't matter."

You sighed. "I don't know. I don't want anything too crazy."

Caroline started to ramble and you brought a hand up to your stomach rubbing the bump that had started to form. you weren't sure how you didn't realize what was happening sooner. You'd never planned on having kids. It was never something that interested you. Now, you couldn't help thinking of your parents. They didn't plan on having you, but they had loved you. Your dad had done everything possible to protect you before he died. All you wanted was to be able to talk to him. He had always been able to drive away your fears.

"Are you listening?"

Caroline's voice broke you out of your thoughts. While blinking back tears that threatened to fall, you cleared your throat.

"Yeah, I am."

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"Nothing. I just miss my dad and mom."

"Everything will be ok, Y/n."

"Thanks. I'm gonna go. Love you."

"If you need anything call me."

You hung up the phone and laid back in the chair, propping your feet on the table in front of you. After getting as comfortable as possible, you closed your eyes. A nap couldn’t hurt anything since you had nothing to do but wait for Kol. You nearly jumped out of the seat when someone said your name. You turned to see Elijah walking into the room obviously trying to hide laughter.

"You nearly killed me."

"I didn't mean to sneak up on you. I thought you heard me." He stepped into the room and moved to stand by the window

You laughed. "I was on the phone with my sister. It's hard to focus on anything else."

"Sister?"

"She was in Mystic Falls, Caroline Forbes."

Your eyebrows rose when he released an 'Ah.'

"Niklaus speaks of her often, but I don’t know that I ever got to meet her.”

You stood up and walked over to him as you pulled out your phone and scrolled through your photos until you came to a picture with her in it. The picture made you smile. You saw Elijah falter slightly when he saw the photo. His eyes focused on the third person in the picture. Katherine was between you and Caroline. Your friendship with Katherine had been strange. Caroline had sent her to stay with you after she was turned into a human, and the two of you had become friends. That picture had been taken one of the only times you’d been able to convince Caroline to go out with the two of you.

“You know Katerina?” 

“We were kind of friends.”

Elijah’s smile turned bitter. “Until she betrayed you I assume.”

“No, she died.”

He didn't speak, just stared at the phone. You couldn't help the unease that made its way through you. You said his name and he finally tore his gaze from the screen. He stepped away  from you and walked over to glance out the window. 

“Niklaus will be happy to hear this.”

You shook your head, confused. “He knows. He and Rebekah came to Mystic Falls when they heard she was dying.”

He turned so fast you hardly noticed. The look on his face caused you to take a step back, subconsciously placing a hand over your stomach. Elijah was typically reserved. You weren’t sure you’d ever seen him truly angry. But the look on his face was far past anger. You heard voices enter the Abattoir, and he was out of the room. You heard a crash in the distance. After a moment, you followed to see Elijah standing over Klaus who was now laying on a broken table. You looked up as Kol came to your side and grabbed your hand. He looked you over and you gave him a small smile to stop his worrying. Your attention moved back to the others when Klaus spoke. 

“Now brother, what was that for?”

“Katerina.”

Klaus glanced at you as he stood up and sighed when you shrugged. “I did not kill her.”

“You kept her death from me. Why?”

“I wasn’t aware it would interest you.”

Elijah turned to Rebekah who had come into the room when she heard the crash. 

“I’m sorry, Elijah.”

His gaze moved between the two of them and he shook his head. He stepped away from them, and then he was gone. Klaus took a step towards you and Kol stepped in front of you.

“What did you tell him?”

“All I did was tell him Katherine died. And you two came to Mystic Falls when it happened,” you said. “I had no reason to believe he didn’t know.”

"Wonderful." Klaus grunted and stomped out of the room with Rebekah following him.

You looked up at Kol as he pressed a kiss to your forehead then lips. "Hello, darling. Are you alright?"

He moved his hand over your stomach, and you covered it with your own.

"I'm fine. Ready to go?"

The smile that bloomed on his face made you laugh as you walked out of the building.

--

Your anxiety grew the closer you got to the doctors your anxiety grew. Kol's thumb drew circles on the back on your hand. Part of you was excited, but the other half couldn't shake off the nerves. It's not like you could read about hybrid babies on the internet. Hope was the only thing you had to go by and her birth hadn't exactly been normal.

The doctor you were seeing had a small office not far from the Abattoir. She was aware of the supernatural which was why you chose to see her. After entering the small building, you checked in with the receptionist and went to wait. You and Kol passed the time talking, but you couldn't concentrate on anything. It felt like hours before a nurse called you back. Once inside the small office, you sat on the exam table. The doctor went through a variety of questions and tests before moving to your side.

"Now we're going to check your baby's heartbeat."

She had you lay back and lifted your shirt. You took a deep breath, and Kol grabbed your hand. The doctor moved the device around your stomach for a minute until a small sound filled the room. Your mouth dropped at the sound and you felt Kol's grip tighten on your hand.

"Heartbeat is strong," the doctor said.

"They're ok?"

"Everything sounds good. I'll have you come back in in a few weeks..." She continued listing off a variety of things before sending you on your way. As you left neither you or Kol could help the smiles that worked their way to your faces. 

----

A/n: I hope you like it! It’s shorter than I wanted but it’s finally here. If you name is marked out on the tags it wouldn’t let me tag you for some reason.

Miss Me? Taglist

@bioshvckd | @booksandwonderlands  | @amarachoren  |  @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven  | @free-pool-trash  | @psychiccreationtaco  | @xceafh  | @falling-stars-never-cry | @lovelydivs  | @believeinyourdreamsxo| @diebitchesimapanda  | @girlyyzzyz  | @llama2264  | @minamisulemisa | @ryeryemilani | @hopebaker | @voiddylanobrosey | @kkolmikaelsonn   

Masterlist | Taglist | Ask | Prompt List

[dkyler24]

Title: Kin

Chapter 1/ Part 2:

Sam and Cas lowered their weapons. Dean didn’t. “ who are you, and how did you find us? I’ll give you 30 seconds before I pump you so full of rock salt and holy water you’ll be puking it for weeks.” Cas elbowed him and he grunted in pain. Cas sighed, “ pardon my husband, he’s a little paranoid-as we should all be- but You must have a valid reason. Do we.. know you?” Daniel opened his mouth to speak, but could only nod. ‘ MARRIED. He’s happy.’ It all made sense now. This wasn’t just an alternate timeline. Not only was his Dad alive, but apparently he had the life Daniel always knew he wanted. Sam was alive, and not possessed, Dean loved him back. He was human, and Married and the world wasn’t ending. THIS, was what he’d meant to do. He was hoping this older, happier version of himself would give HIM a happier life.

He felt sick. He had felt like he wasn’t good enough father, so he had sent him away on his dying breath. He couldn’t get it through his thick skull that he didn’t want to be with anyone other than him. All his life, he’d tried to get rid of him, keep him away, but Daniel had KNOWN that his he’d had needed him anyway. Even if he never changed for the better. It beat having no father. It beat not having those rare moments of tenderness where he truly believed he cared. Now, he was expected to just build a completely new relationship with an alternate version of him? Bullshit.

He hadn’t realized how silent he’d been until Cas’ voice broke it. “ you look a bit shaken, why don’t you come in.”

“ Cas—“ Cas turned to Dean. “ enough, does he look like a threat to you?” But Dean was persistent. “ fine then, can I talk to you-alone.” He ground out, slamming the door behind Daniel. Dean and Cas stepped into another room once down the stairs. He could hear Dean whispering aggressively, and His Dads soft replies. He strained to hear but couldn’t make out any of it. “ Just give Dean a minute. We’ve all been through a lot lately, his PTSD gets really bad during these kinds of situations.” Sam said. He turned to look at him. Sam had an apologetic look on his face. Now that, he knew. Dean had always been the quick to fire ask questions later type of dude, though Dean had never actually gotten close enough to him to open up. He had led the raids and the camp and that was the extent of their relationship.

“ so... where DID you come from? Nobody just shows up at our front door unless they personally know us, or-you know, your an enemy wanting personal vengeance. Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had our door kicked down.” Daniel eyed the pair arguing in the doorway of the other room one last time before turning to look at Sam. “ it’s sort of complicated. I know you all because you all exist in my world-or timeline, I guess. The world was kind of ending and my dad sent me through a rift.” Sam didn’t look all that surprised, which meant that these guys had dealt with this a lot more frequently. Go figure.

“ how well? Who’s your dad, do we know him?” Daniel nodded. “Dean’s married to him, apparently.” Sam’s mouth dropped open. “ wha— Cas? So that means your a..” Daniel shook his head. “ Oh, no, I’m not a Nephilim, my dad was human when I was born.” Sam cocked his head, and Daniel knew what was coming. “ was?” He’d hoped he wouldn’t have to mention that part. Seeing him again, seconds after watching him die, was still so raw and fresh. He decided not to answer and fell silent again. Sam, thankfully didn’t demand it or try to pry further. He glanced at Cas and Dean. They weren’t fighting anymore, foreheads pressed together. Cas was speaking softly and Dean nodded and let him kiss him before pulling away.

Cas caught Daniel looking as they headed back into the main room and sat across from him at the big table. He noticed for the first time that a huge map of the world was spread across the entire tabletop. Little bulbs that looked like they lit up were marked on several states and continents all over. He wondered what they used that for. Dean cleared his throat. “ sorry, about earlier. People don’t just show up here. This bunker is completely off the radar, no one knows it exists-well, almost no one. Anyway.”

“ so I’ve been told,” he glanced at Sam, then back at Dean. Daniel told him and Cas what he’d told Sam. He then went into detail about the virus, the Croats overrunning the world, Camp chitaqua, the rift, and finally, his dad. His subconscious though, screamed at him not to trust anyone. It’s not that he didn’t believe these people to be the guys he grew up knowing( with the exception of Sam), they just weren’t the guys HE knew. Different lives, different memories. He should be figuring out a way back. Sure, the world was shot to hell back home, but looking at the trio now, he couldn’t help the feeling he’d made a terrible mistake. then again, for most of his life his dad had been a hazed out drug addict who was always sick, high, or both. Seeing him healthy and happy was undoubtedly the biggest shock of his life, maybe it COULD be a good thing.

Cas stared at Daniel, dumbfounded. “ I have a son...”

............................................................

[slightlymore]

cute~

- a pride spin-off -

pairing: haechan x mark

other characters: doyoung, jaemin, jungwoo, onew (??? only bc I needed a name 😔)

genre: angst!! smut! fluff!!! one-shot, company!au (you can read this without reading "pride" first but make sure to read at least the little synopsis below, just to have some kind of context for the first part)

warnings: 18+, language, sexual activities, alcohol, drunk characters

words: 14K (oops)

for those who didn’t read pride and don't want to: doyoung and y/n are in love with each other but because of a series of unfortunate events (them being stupid) they can’t be together. doyoung leaves her after college and starts working at haechan’s company while being miserable; the two boys become enemies/friends. everything goes relatively well until one day y/n makes an appearance and starts working there as well. doyoung and y/n finally get (their shit) together and become a couple. haechan is the happy friend witnessing all of that and this is his story

(the photo was meant to be a shitpost but now I kinda like it lmaooo)

The phone rang for the millionth time that morning, a piercing and resounding noise, making Haechan unable to hear his own thoughts. The boy groaned. It was only 10 am yet everyone suddenly needed to speak with him. Haechan would have loved to spend his workday gossiping on the phone. Maybe chit-chatting about everyone. Listening to his colleagues talk about George's new too-expensive-for-his pockets-but-he's-an-idiot car, or the scandalous hairstyle Alex tried out to impress his already-married-and-twenty-years-older flame, or to hear how someone heard from someone else that somebody had sex with someone somewhere. But not that day. Haechan was exhausted, physically, and mentally, head buried between his arms, the white noises of the office almost putting him to sleep. The infernal device stopped ringing for a second and the young man sighed relieved before it rang again soon after. Haechan whined, almost sobbing, while lightly hitting his forehead on the desk. A soft 'what the fuck' made him raise his face with pained eyes squinting from the sudden too much light. "Are you alright?", the same voice asked, his desk neighbour inquiring. "Mind your own business, Owen", Haechan mumbled and finally put one hand on the phone while massaging the base of his nose with the other. "... my name is Onew", the dude whispered offended, but Haechan's little attention was already drifting away. A female voice said something that Haechan couldn't catch but to which he replied with a short "yeah, thanks", having figured out the words "intern" and "acceptance" through her quick mumbling. When he first heard the news during the beginning of the year reunion, Haechan was ecstatic, to say the least. They said he was responsible and could handle taking care of an intern making Haechan's shoulders widen at the compliments. Also, having an innocent soul to bother for a few months? It meant some company and less work for himself. Paradise. But Haechan had already forgotten about the joy he felt before. He had been feeling weird for a while now and he hated it. The previous night he didn't go home after Doyoung and Y/N left the company building. He listened to them talk for an excruciating period while pretending to sleep. It was beautiful, choked voices and raw confessions, and he felt like the third wheel in his own life. When Haechan walked out of his office one day, months before that, with the intention of "grabbing something important from somewhere" (or taking a break while making it pass as work) and heard the loud bang of the neighbour office door, he didn’t think that his life would go spiralling down from that moment on. It took him days. No, it took him weeks, maybe months, before the uncomfortable feeling creeping on him, making his spine shiver and palms sweat could be classified as something real by his brain. As a feeling. Sitting down on his chair, tired fingers tapping away at the keyboard for hours, he would suddenly feel this ungodly urge to get up and go to that office again as if an obscure force possessed him. To do what? To see a pair of angry eyes. Angry and full of pain. They were beautiful: round but also angled, dark but also light, absent as if looking at anything but their surroundings. Looking at something only they could see. That thing, sadly, was never Haechan. The boy tried everything to be seen by them. Being friendly, being funny, being helpful. Then he tried being rude. To his immense joy, the latter worked better, as if those eyes hatched such an enormous amount of anger that they had to spill some onto someone. And Haechan didn’t mind being that someone if it also meant being the object of those eyes’ attention at the same time. Then he realized that he didn’t want to see only the eyes. Something else was fighting for Haechan’s regard. Pink and soft looking, often stretched in a line, sometimes forming a pout. God, Haechan would have done everything to be able to touch those lips even once, even for a second. And he did it during his most feverish dreams. The first time, he woke up panting, ashamed, shaken to the core, the feeling of that soft skin still ghosting his own lips. The second time Haechan raised a trembling hand and touched the place where his subconsciousness created such a realistic scenario. He caressed it slowly, laying in that obscure slumber, silently, afraid to wake up his rational side. The third time he didn’t need to dream. He just imagined, shamelessly. His lips got kissed and his name was pronounced with such lust and desire to leave Haechan panting. So real, as if Doyoung whispered that while being beside Haechan in his room. It took Doyoung a few good weeks to call Haechan by his name in real life. When he finally did it, he wasn't even scolding him. No. From weird conjunction of stars, Haechan didn’t need to do something to gain Doyoung’s attention that day. He was in the photocopying room. One hand was mindlessly using the machines, the other was warmly hugging a mug of coffee. His slowly descending glasses were being pushed back by one of his fingers when a fluttering shadow appeared behind him. Haechan’s hands stopped as if his crawling skin could physically predict the future.   “Haechan”, Doyoung said. Just like that, sweet and soft. And the boy with that name let his coffee mug fall to the ground. Oh. “Haechan!” Doyoung repeated. “What the hell?” Yes. Yes. Haechan. That’s me. That’s my name on your lips. Say it again. “Haechan! You’re doing this on purpose now”. Doyoung stood tall with hands on his hips, looking at the way Haechan was failing to grab his mug, letting it comically slip from his hands, again and again, new coffee stains covering the carpet. I just love how my name sounds in your mouth. I don't want you to stop. Please. “Oops”, Haechan chuckled, the mask he carefully crafted for Doyoung easily slipping on his face, and despite everything, Doyoung rolled his eyes with a little smile himself. “You’re such an idiot”. Oh fuck. That. Haechan almost forgot. The boy could drown in the light that Doyoung’s face emitted when he was smiling. It would dissipate for a split second the darkness lingering around him and it was Haechan’s doing. Haechan did that. It made his little heart buzz every time and soon enough he started to fantasize about a day in which Doyoung would not have that expression line between his eyebrows anymore. And it arrived eventually. Haechan realized everything would go downhill for himself when he got blinded by Doyoung’s soul. He could see it before as well but not this way. Not while the older man's cheeks got red and his pupils were trembling. And Haechan understood soon what that was because a sick person recognizes another sick person easily. Was Haechan like that as well? Were his cheeks flushed and eyes glossy every time he looked at Doyoung? Ah, Doyoung’s soul. He took it out so suddenly and poured it into that girl’s hands. Haechan felt like dying. No. No, wait. It's supposed to go like this. I should be there. I worked so hard. I endured so much. It can’t end like this. This is my story. Isn’t it? And it was, but not the type of story Haechan imagined. In this universe it ended in him being alone, bones cold and empty, looking at Doyoung’s back as he carried his love in his arms. Haechan stayed back there, motionless, no arms holding him. He bit his lips for a little while, looking around the office as if not knowing on which planet he was. Then he crouched down and cried. He was tired. Yeah, he was just tired. It has been a long week and a long day. He was exhausted. That was the reason. Haechan, you're good. Just get a good night sleep. You’ll be fine. Now get up and go home. And he did that. Like a robot. He was alone inside the 4 am metro, blinding, fluorescent lights burning his fatigued eyes. His feet dragged him towards his apartment although he found himself knocking on Jaemin's door instead. Jaemin was a weird guy and Haechan loved him dearly. He just never slept. Every time Haechan called him, he somehow was wide awake doing some random shit. Haechan hoped that he didn't suddenly change his habits because he desperately needed some arms to crash into. And Jaemin opened the door as expected, a popsicle between his lips, eyes wide and bright. Haechan stepped inside and took the snack away, putting his lips on Jaemin's instead, pushing him against the wall, letting the coldness of Jaemin's tongue numb his thoughts. And he let the popsicle fall from his fingers when Jaemin wrapped him between his arms, guiding him towards the bedroom, no questions asked, no romance. I need a distraction right now, Haechan's whole being was screaming and Jaemin was good at reading people. Quickly and effortless, clothes sliding down, Haechan's mind finally lingered in a grey bliss as the only thing he could think of was the way Jaemin rolled his hips into him, sending shots of pleasure through his whole body. But then Haechan's slipped. "Doyoung-", he whimpered then gasped, eyes wide with horror and cheeks reddening. Jaemin didn't care if Haechan called other guys’ names but when Haechan put his palms on his face, chest rising and falling quickly, sobbing desperately, Jaemin stopped and sighed. He let Haechan go and rolled over, wrapping his shaking frame with his arms. "Do you want to talk?" he asked softly. Haechan shook his head, burying it into the other's chest. Jaemin stayed quiet, the only sound in the dark room being Haechan's irregular breaths, his fingers delicately drawing patterns on the other’s skin. "It's going to get better", Jaemin whispered after a while. "You're going to be seen by someone one day, just like you see everyone else”. It was weird how Jaemin always had the perfect thing to say. Though Haechan didn’t believe that, he had no force to argue. He stayed like that for the next hour, in silence, until the sun came out. Then he got up and let Jaemin prepare his breakfast that he barely touched. Haechan then borrowed the other's clothes and said it was fine for him to go to work that morning. You have to be sick to be able to call in sick, Haechan said. Because you’re someone that follows rules and does an honest job, Jaemin commented sarcasting with a raise of the brow. I just need to be busy, Haechan added and left.

Now, heading towards the acceptance, he regretted not staying home, maybe sleeping the whole day. Sleeping would be good but dreaming? He was afraid of that. The squeaking sound of Haechan’s shoes on the main floor tiles was so distressing that Haechan felt like taking them off and throw a tantrum in the middle of all those white collars. Blinking fast he sighed when he saw the new guy, an anonymous-looking young man looking around as if uncomfortable and slightly afraid. Haechan introduced himself in a monotone voice, letting the intern shake his hand then he turned around with a short 'follow me', not giving the other time to do anything else besides tailing his supervisor. Haechan has been babbling about the company for a good five minutes now, walking quickly through the corridors, showing rooms and people. He wasn't doing a very good job because he didn't care. The new guy, weirdly enough, didn't seem disoriented at all and Haechan shrugged internally. "And this is the terrace", the boy finally finished his monologue as they both stepped outside. It was a sunny day but the wind was quite strong, making Haechan close his eyes as his fluffy hair danced around his forehead. "Cute," the guy commented with a soft chuckle. Haechan looked around. Cute? It was kinda cute, he guessed. Too many ugly buildings around though and it wasn't the best-kept terrace. He turned his head to face the intern. "What's cute?" Haechan asked. It was the first word that guy said and Haechan wanted to hear him speak.  The intern was looking at him already instead of the surroundings and Haechan could have sworn that the dude's cheeks were flushed with a pink hue.    "You are", he said shyly, eyes big and twinkling. Haechan could only blink back. Wait. What? Did this guy just call him cute? Cute? "Listen, thanks, but you have to pay me respect. I'm your supervisor", Haechan replied trying hard to keep his voice stable. He wasn't annoyed but he couldn't just giggle, could he? Also, who calls strangers cute? On the workplace? What a weirdo. The guy’s expression shifted at Haechan’s words as if in slow motion. "Oh God, sorry, I don't know what just happened. I apologize. It was inappropriate", the intern babbled and stuttered, cheeks going from pink to red, eyes darting around, not knowing where to look. Haechan has never seen someone that transparent with his feelings before and he could tell that he was very honest. Looking so naive, Haechan fought the urge to roll his eyes at him just to make him feel even more embarrassed. "I can't fire you personally or anything and I'm not your boss, but I can tell people to fire you", Haechan tried to sound cold even if the situation was rather funny. The look the guy gave to Haechan was of pure terror a for a split second Haechan felt almost sorry. But then the dude’s eyes darted to Haechan’s hair, still flying around his forehead. Haechan puffed annoyed and put one hand on top of his head as to stop the motion. The intern’s expression relaxed. "And what are you going to say? That it's because I called you cute?" he asked. His lips were back into a timid smile. Haechan was baffled. "What is so cute about me?", he sniffled, sure that he caught a cold already and switched the hand from his hair to his ear as the wind got even stronger. The intern took the question seriously. "You have curly purple hair-", he started then stopped as if that was enough to explain his comment, "-and well, your cheeks are full and now they're uhm red and it's... very cute. Also, your eyes are big and round and it's very cute-" 

Haechan groaned incredulously. 

"Oh my God! Stop saying cute", he spoke up to make his voice heard over the loud rumble of the wind, before turning on his heels and walking towards the terrace door. The intern’s cheeks turned pink again as he tried hard to not add whatever he wanted to say.

_______

Mark was told that he was somewhat of a dense guy. He disapproved. He just paid attention to what he wanted and disregarded the rest. So, if you asked him to show off the company to you, what tasks he had to do or where the bathroom was, he wouldn't know where to start. But if you asked him to tell you how many moles Haechan Lee the Supervisor had, he could answer in a second. It was weird and Mark wasn't a romantic person at all. But when he saw the guy walking out the elevator, eyebrows furrowed and dark circles underneath a pair of tired and red eyes, Mark felt a tingle in his stomach that he could only describe as love at first sight. Okay. Maybe not love. Crush at first sight? Attraction? Mark didn't know what that was and it made him so confused that he could only look at the guy's back when walking around the company as if it could give him some answers. Haechan, he said while letting Mark shake his hand. Of course. It fit him perfectly. Mark could see it - the sun - underneath his skin. Their fingers parted ways too quickly after shaking hands and Mark felt so paralyzed by the sudden tingle on his skin that he couldn’t fully pay attention. Was he also warm to the touch? Mark desperately wanted to find out. Was it weird? He was being weird. But God, he was so cute. Cute. Very cute. Cute. Cute. So fucking cute. 

This is all Mark’s mind was thinking about and when Mark thought about something he would just say it. Just like that. Cute. Don’t say it now though. Cute. I swear, Mark, shut up, for once. So cute. Please, not now. “Cute”, his tongue slipped. 

Goddammit. 

“What’s cute?” Haechan asked. The view. The view is cute. The view, Mark. Mark, say it. Mark, are you listening? The view. “You are”, Mark said instead and Haechan suddenly turned even cuter. Mark gasped, firstly because of the way Haechan’s cheeks turned red and his eyes round and big, then after a good full second that felt like an eternity, because of embarrassment. Oh shit. Fired. He was about to get fired. "God, sorry, I don't know what just happened. I apologize. It was inappropriate", Mark felt like running away. He woke up that morning with the intent of finally living the life he worked so hard for and there he was instead, calling strangers cute and making everyone uncomfortable for the sole reason of not being able to shut his mouth for once. Haechan looked embarrassed as he was though and that little detail made Mark hope that it wasn’t all over. Then Haechan shut some cold blinds on his own face and Mark knew that Haechan thought he was safe, that Mark wasn’t able to see his feelings underneath all that. It wasn’t an efficient job and Mark wondered if other people needed just that little act to not see Haechan anymore.

_______

"Good morning". Haechan saw the intern’s feet first before hearing his voice, but he didn't raise his face as suddenly something very important and urgent was being shown on the computer screen and he couldn't physically let his eyes fall on the way the guy wore his suit. 

It was terrible. Long legs and strong thighs on display right in front of his desk? Terrible, and he didn’t need any more distractions in the workplace. After the intern left for the day with a soft “see you on Monday”, both tired having spent most of the time walking around the company and explaining boring paperwork, Haechan had not been able to stop thinking about him the whole weekend. No. No, it wasn’t a crush or anything. Haechan was just, what’s the word? baffled, s h o c k e d, appalled. Some random guy called him cute and Haechan acted that way? Blushing timidly? Was he feeling that bad? Was he that sick? Unacceptable. He was Haechan, for fuck’s sake. And Haechan didn’t just blush. He could not slip anymore. "Yeah, hi Mike", he replied lazily, fingers typing something he didn’t really need to write. "It's Mark", the intern replied in a neutral tone. Haechan knew it was Mark. In fact, he also knew his full name. Mark Lee. Born on August 2nd, 1999. Toronto. Moved to Vancouver. Graduated from university a few years ago. Great grades. Interested in music and sports. Plays the guitar. Good boy. Loves animals. Does charity work regularly. Has a normal amount of friends. Doesn't know how to take selfies. No, he was not being weird. He just read his CV. 

Obviously. 

He was his supervisor. He needed to read that. The other info? He Googled him only to make sure that he wasn't a criminal. And the social media research? It was just to check on his personality. 

Obviously. 

What if he posted about illegal shit? He had to check every photo and tagged person. It was part of his job. He was single, even if Haechan didn't search for that in particular. Haechan loved his work a lot and he didn't care that he worked on that until 3 am, scrolling through his phone, drifting to sleep with Mark's selfies impregnated on his lids. It's just that he took his job seriously.  

Okay. Okay. 

It wasn’t the whole truth. Haechan was curious. Who calls you cute all of a sudden? Haechan had to know more. 

"Okay, Matt. What about you go and bring me a coff-", Haechan started but got interrupted by a hand, delicately placing a cup of steamy coffee in front of him. Haechan stared at it as if not understanding what that was then finally raised his eyes to meet Mark's gentle ones. He was smiling. "I stalked your Instagram. Full of food and coffee", Mark explained honestly with a shrug while walking around the desk and sitting down on his chair. They had to share a desk and Mark was as close as to touch elbows. Haechan hated having people so close to him when he didn't want them; especially at that moment, as Mark rested his head on his hand and just stared. 

Yeah, he stared. His eyes were piercing, looking at Haechan as if that’s what normal people do. Scanning him from head to toe, then looking into his eyes as if able to see something there. 

Haechan ignored him and looked away. "Stalking my social media is problematic, Mike". Mark chuckled lightly. "You did the same". Haechan's head snapped. "And why would I do that?”. Mark shrugged. "Close the tabs if you didn't want me to find out," he smiled staring at Haechan's laptop. 

The younger’s eyes suddenly widened and with a quick hand, he closed it in a second, cheeks hot with shame. He opened his mouth to say something to get himself out of that embarrassing situation but Mark thankfully didn't give him any time. 

"What are we doing today, sir?" he asked instead with a sly smile. "We write codes", Haechan replied quietly. "Fun", was Mark's comment. 

And they did that the whole morning, ignoring each other's knees as they sometimes brushed against each other. And they ignored the way their knuckles touched when both reached for their own cup of coffee. And Haechan ignored Mark's cologne while Mark ignored the way the computer lights made Haechan's skin glow. Mark loved programming, he always did, but that morning he thought that it would be nice to not be a programmer, just for a minute, just to be in a well-lit office and see how different Haechan would look under the sun instead.

_______

Haechan stared down at his sandwich, sitting still wrapped and untouched in his lap. Then he looked up at the blue sky and let the white fluffy clouds calm him. 

It happened close to the lunch break. 

"Spaghetti", Mark said suddenly. Onew had left already and in front of their office, everyone was walking the corridor heading out. Haechan was finally getting into the flow of working when Mark's hoarse voice startled him. "It's your favourite food, isn't it?" Mark asked, explaining himself. "Soup. I don't put things I love on my Instagram", Haechan replied. Mark looked pensive. "This is why there's no girlfriend photo there?" he wondered with a timid smile. Huh? What was that? So this is what was happening? This is the reason for the cute? 

Haechan had no force to being hit on, as much as Mark intrigued him. He had zero force and suddenly all the thoughts that Haechan buried away for a few days, came back like a bulldozer. 

Haechan bit his tongue before talking too much. "Maybe the girlfriend doesn't exist", he mumbled before getting up and grabbing his wallet.  

"Wait, are you going away?" Mark got up as well, surprised. "I thought we were going to eat together. I don't know other people-". "Well, I don't want to. Make some new friends", he replied and just walked away. No, he ran away and the first place he thought about was the terrace. It was the only uncontaminated place in the whole company. Doyoung has never been there before. 

And Haechan loved the clouds. He loved the wind moving them around fast. It was mesmerizing and in moments like those, he was able to not think about anything, until he was not Haechan anymore, until he was a cloud himself, floating in the blue sky. 

"Sorry, I didn't know this was your favourite place", a voice startled him for the second time that day. 

Haechan looked at his right where Mark was standing with a plate of food in his hands. He looked like a scared deer, turning around to leave Haechan alone, probably wondering what he did wrong but too anxious to confront Haechan about it.  

"It's alright. You can stay", Haechan spoke softly and resumed his cloud gazing. 

Mark stopped uncertain, standing still for a little while but then he walked towards Haechan and slowly sat down, resting his back on the wall as Haechan did, raising his eyes to watch the sky.

"Pretty", Mark commented and this time he was actually talking about the view. 

Haechan hummed, then after a moment of silence, he apologized. 

Mark began eating his food. "For what?" he asked with his mouth full. They both knew the reason but Haechan still appreciated Mark’s effort to showcase that he wasn’t mad at him. "For telling you that I don't want to eat together. I was being an ass for no reason", Haechan explained. Mark shook his head. "It's alright. I'm sorry if I came off clingy". Haechan huffed. "Funny. Usually, I'm the clingy one". 

Mark swallowed and Haechan looked at him. "I haven't been myself lately. But I promise I'm not an asshole". Mark smiled back kindly. "I know. I can see that". 

Haechan's expression flattered. 

Mark took another bite. "You look very warm. Your name is very appropriate for your personality. You're just… very cute", he added with a shy smile. 

Haechan continued staring at the other, unable to make a single sound. 

The other had a few other bites as if not noticing the way his words made Haechan feel then he finally raised his gaze. 

"Why are you not eating? Are you sick?" Mark inquired eyeing Haechan's sandwich. The boy finally sighed and looked up at the sky again. "Maybe". "Well, you'll get worse if you don't eat", Mark commented and grabbed the sandwich, unwrapping it and putting it into Haechan's hand with force. "I can't believe you're treating your supervisor like this. Calling him cute and forcing him to eat", Haechan stared at the food in his hand before taking a small bite, mostly to make Mark happy. The other shrugged. "You act like no one calls you cute every minute. Also, I am older than you. I can do that”. Haechan rolled his eyes. "I'm still your senior. You don't want to see me get mad. I can guarantee you that". Mark opened his mouth to say something dangerously similar to “cute” but then smiled instead, shaking his head. Haechan forced himself to keep a straight face. "If you say it again…", he warned the other. Mark cleaned his already clean fingers on a napkin then suddenly grabbed Haechan's cheek with two fingers. The boy's eyes got wide and he almost dropped his food, his mouth open in a surprised o. 

Mark smiled even more at his reaction, gulping his last piece of food while gently pinching Haechan's face as if he were a child. Then he let him go and got up, dusting his pants. "I didn't say anything this time", Mark explained innocently. 

Haechan looked up at him, still shocked. 

"I'll see you in the office. Finish your food", Mark told him and left. Haechan could distinctly hear Mark comment "so fucking cute" while he was descending the stairs.

_______

That night Haechan fell into his usual decadent slumber. He was almost fully unconscious, the twilight sleep making space for a depraved and troubled dream. Fingers twitching and muscles quivering, Haechan’s mind transformed his day yearning in darkness. Images of eyes and lips tormented him again. It has always been the same pattern, yet something new derailed the boy’s focus that night. Little details. The roundness of the eyes, the form of the lips, the touch of the fingers, the voice. That voice sounded different and it whispered something Haechan has never dreamt about before. A single word, soft but sensual, repeated again and again in Haechan’s ear. 

That morning, after a very long time, the boy woke up with a new name on his lips.

_______

Mark sometimes thought that everyone was just stupid besides himself. 

Not because of an unhealthy superiority complex or something, but because he couldn’t understand how everyone could be that blind. 

“Oh, Lara, I love your new blazer”, Haechan would say while walking around the company with Mark following suit. Poor Lara would blush and be genuinely happy about the compliment. But Mark could see that Haechan thought it was atrocious. And Adam’s stuttering speech a well. Oh, and Joseph’s wrinkly newborn. 

However, it wasn’t this fake persona Haechan had that made Mark uneasy. It was the one he would wear when talking about himself. Oh, I slept very well last night. No, I don’t need any help. Yes, everything is fine, what do you mean? Smiles and laughs and sarcastic comments. 

Mark wanted to know. He wanted to get closer and dust off the misty layer on Haechan’s eyes. 

Maybe Mark thought too highly of himself. Maybe it was his ego talking. 

I’m going to be the one to help Haechan, that’s the only thing he could think about. 

And lately, during sleepless nights, Mark would beat himself up about it. 

It’s not your business, Mark. You want this to feel a good person. 

Except, he would then frown and hug his pillow tighter, getting annoyed at himself. 

No, I would want it even it wasn’t me to help Haechan out. I just want to see him happy. 

Yeah. This sounds good. 

So he would drift away to sleep, peaceful, knowing that he was selfless. 

Alas, it took very little to Mark to realize that he wasn’t that selfless as he thought. 

Mark raised his eyes when Haechan’s abrupt manners opened the office door with a kick. “Haechan, you look good today”. The other smirked. “I always look good. What do you mean?” As if the literal sun entered the room. Mark was blinded. “Did something good happen?”, he watched Haechan’s hair bounce at his every step, like a little seedling gently moved by the breeze. Haechan’s smile widened as he sat down, rolling around in his seat, pure energy sprinkling from every pore. “So I guess the answer is yes,” Mark found himself smiling as well, although a bitter taste pasted his tongue on the palate as he spoke. “I just remembered how much serotonin a good fuck gives you,” Haechan opened his computer and started working on his tasks, not paying attention to Mark’s face. 

Oh. 

Mark hated it. Oh, he hated it so much. God, he hated it. 

The boy tried hard to not think about Haechan that day, resulting in him thinking about Haechan all day. Don't think about Haechan. Don't think about Haechan. Don't think about his body touched by somebody else. 

It was almost lunchtime when Mark finally broke the silence. “So, now you’re dating someone?” Haechan raised an eyebrow, eyes still too focused on his computer to give his full attention to Mark. “What? No. Why?”, he mumbled distractedly. Mark blinked for a few seconds. Haechan finally processed and laughed. “You’re kinda sweet Mark. I just got dicked down, that’s all”, he got up and stretched his arms up with a whiny yawn. “Come on,” he lightly hit the other’s shoulder, “I think today’s menu is soup”.

______

Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark. 

It was as if Haechan was going crazy. 

It was just a dream. A single dream. 

When did this happen? How was it possible? 

“Fuck, Haechan, you’re-”, Jaemin gulped, his adam apple going up and down inside his stretched out throat just like Haechan’s body moved on top of him. “Yeah?” the directly concerned boy smiled. “-crazy today”, Jaemin concluded. “Who made you this horny?” Haechan bit his lower lip, hating his mind for not leaving that thought out, even if for a single second. “Call me--”, he ignore the other’s question, cheeks violently turning red. Jaemin groaned at the way Haechan sunk deeper on him in the process. “Call you what?”, he asked breathless, fingers tightening around Haechan’s painfully hard length. “Cute”, the boy finally whispered. And Jaemin said it, again and again until that word replaced Mark’s name from Haechan’s head.

_______

That day’s menu was indeed soup which only added to Haechan’s general euphoria. Mark walked one step behind him, troubled by the double sword his feelings formed inside his heart. His eyes were only on the younger’s face and Mark could only sigh every few seconds. 

Oh, I’m falling in love. I’m falling in love. 

Lost in his melodramatic thoughts, Mark didn’t notice when Haechan suddenly stopped.  “Hey, boys. Haechan,” a dude greeted generally before locking eyes with the younger one.  Haechan rolled his eyes and made a step back from where that guy was. The dude’s smile flattered as if annoyed at that obvious showcase of hatred towards him but kept his fake expression on as he looked at Mark instead. “So, I’m organizing this party downtown at the Garages. Do you want to come?”, he asked.  

Mark furrowed his eyebrows and eyed Haechan to see what the deal was about.  

Haechan huffed. “Mark doesn’t like parties and neither do I, Jungwoo. Thank you”, he replied snarkily while making a step to continue walking. 

Jungwoo smirked. “Says the party animal. You never mentioned it to me while I had you on my-”, but Haechan interrupted him, hitting his chest with the back of his hand. 

Jungwoo chuckled with satisfaction. 

“Oh, so the boy doesn’t have to know?” he asked indicating to Mark, faking innocence.”

Mark felt his jaw muscle flinch and a sudden urge to punch that dude in the face made his fists almost tremble. 

“The boy doesn’t like the way you’re making his friend uncomfortable right now”, he spoke with a cold voice not breaking eye contact. “Whatever happened between you before, now Haechan doesn’t want to see you again and certainly he doesn’t want to come to your party”. 

Haechan opened his mouth to say something but Jungwoo's laugh interrupted him. 

“Oh, but he does want to see me again and come to my party. Don’t you, Haechan?” the dude asked. 

“Of course I don’t, Jungwoo. Get fucked”, Haechan replied quickly, eyes rolling in their sockets, feet turning direction and walking away. 

“I bet I will”, Jungwoo shrugged with a little smile, throwing one finger gun at Mark.  “By Haechan”, he whispered with a wink while leaving him alone in the corridor. 

To Mark’s horror, despite those two’s abrasive conversation, he could definitely see that as a silent promise.

So Mark went there as well. 

Why? He didn’t know. He liked to think that he was concerned about Haechan’s safety. 

That Jungwoo guy had some rancid vibes and Mark hated the idea of the two together. Because he was concerned for his safety. 

Not because he was jealous or anything. 

Haechan could do whatever he wanted and sleep with whoever he wanted to, but what if, just what if, Haechan changed his mind and chose Mark over the Jungwoo dude? 

Mark could do that. 

Mark wasn’t self-centred but he still realized that Haechan deserved better and he could provide that. 

If that was Haechan needed to soothe the darkness in his eyes, Mark could do that.

But Haechan wasn’t there and neither was Jungwoo and the thought of that man’s hands on Haechan’s skin made Mark’s guts twirl on themselves. 

He looked around, frantically, breathing the sweat-impregnated air, trying to avoid being hit by people’s sticky shoulders. Until he started to feel sick, not only because of the loud music and blinding lights but also for some obscure reason, grabbing his throat and choking him. 

He had to drown that down.

_______

When Haechan arrived Mark was surrounded by people, eyes closed, face up exposing his neck, laughing and screaming, jumping and moving his body as Haechan has never seen someone do before. 

His legs were nicely on display in a pair of severely ripped black jeans that Haechan had no idea Mark liked to wear. 

The younger boy was so concentrated on the way a plain white T-shirt could look so good on a person that he noticed too late the way Mark directed his eyes towards him. 

He was far away and Haechan couldn’t decipher the other's expression but it didn’t matter as Mark quickly made his way to where the younger boy nervously stood. 

Mark was drunk. A lot. 

But he still somewhat fluidly avoided the crowd as if dancing until getting as close as hovering above Haechan. The boy had never noticed that Mark was taller until he had to raise his face to look up, his back and palms pressed against the wall. He didn’t notice when he walked backwards either. 

“Haechan”, Mark said his name with such worry to make the other’s heart beat like crazy. “Are you okay? Where have you been?”, or that's what Haechan deciphered from his lips since the music was so loud that his ribcage felt about to be ripped apart. “Home. I’ve just arrived”, Haechan yelled and Mark got even closer, giving his ear to the boy’s lips to hear better. 

Haechan couldn’t do anything else besides inhaling his odour. Mark was a little sweaty and his breath smelled of alcohol, but Haechan has never found someone sexier than him at that moment. 

His eyes were dark under his black curls and his lips looked swollen as if someone sucked on them. Haechan felt like prey and unconsciously pressed his body against the wall even harder.

“And where’s Jungwoo?”, Mark’s voice tingled Haechan’s earbuds. “I have no idea. Why would I know?”, Haechan replied, acting as if he didn’t realize why Mark was behaving like that. 

It made Haechan’s palms sweat. 

He thought about that a lot, at the way Mark got defensive of him in front of Jungwoo, at the way Mark’s expression darkened even after Haechan told them that he had no intention to go to the party, at the way Mark has been looking at Haechan a lot, at the way Haechan couldn’t just stop thinking about Mark for a single second either.  

He came to the party because of that. Haechan’s mind was running again and he wanted to stop it. And also because he played with his phone all day, looking at Mark’s number for a long time. 

Mark would have replied but did Haechan really want it? He was such a sweet person and Haechan didn’t dare to contaminate him with his presence. Mark didn’t deserve to be used as Haechan needed. 

So he went to the party, ready to contaminate somebody else instead. Who knew that Mark was there waiting for him? 

“I’ve been thinking about you the whole night”, Mark talked again after staring at Haechan as if trying to understand the younger one’s thoughts. Just like he has been for the past few months, making Haechan feel small and naked. "Yeah, I bet. While letting those people grind on you?" Haechan replied sarcastic trying hard to conceal his shaking voice. 

Mark got closer, bold and cocky, putting his hands on the wall, caging Haechan between his arms, leaning in and whispering into his ear. "Yeah, I was imagining you grinding on me", his confession tickled Haechan’s ear and the boy tried to move his head away on the side, afraid to do something he would regret, but Mark's hand was there and his head had nowhere to go. It wasn't right. 

Haechan was sober while Mark was drunk and had no idea what he was talking about. He had to go away, push him back, but his limbs weren't cooperating. Mark's hand though was working just fine and it gently grabbed Haechan's face, turning it into his direction. 

"Haechan, please, let me kiss you", he begged, his breath caressing Haechan’s lips. 

The boy gulped down surprised, shivering with desire, fighting with himself. He put his hands on Mark's chest, with the intent of lightly pushing him away, but he was made of iron. No, Mark, no, please. You’re too precious to me for this. 

"You don't know what you're talking about", Haechan mumbled. 

Mark breathed heavily. His jaw muscles tightened. Then he put his head down as if trying to gain forces. 

"Yeah, sorry, okay okay, I'm leaving", he retrieved his arms and let them fall to his sides like dead flesh. 

Haechan looked at them with some relief, suddenly feeling exposed and cold, even if the club's air was so hot that it was hard to breathe. Or maybe it was just him having breathing difficulties. Haechan had no idea. 

"No, wait", his lips betrayed him. "Just-", Haechan interrupted himself, eyes squeezed together as if already regretting what he was about to say, unsure, holding Mark's wrist with both hands. Then he opened his eyes again. 

Mark was looking at him his heavy lids. His gaze wandered from his face to his exposed neck, then to his collarbones and chest. Mark was undressing him without touching anything and Haechan felt like going crazy. 

"-just a kiss. Okay? It's going to be a short kiss", Haechan continued, unable to believe he was actually saying that. 

But there was no harm in that. A little kiss. Just a harmless little kiss. Like the ones you'd have in college during stupid games. No one thought about those in the mornings.

But when Mark's lips curved in a little smirk and his body got as close as to press on Haechan's one again, the younger boy knew that it wasn't going to be just a kiss. Not for him at least. And not only he would think about it in the morning. He probably would think about it for a long time. And he was right. It was indeed memorable. Slow and careful but not timid. Mark cupped the other’s face, palm pressed on his jaw, fingers as far as touching his neck and ear, the other grabbing his hips, pulling them against his. Haechan’s head felt light and he couldn't fathom how Mark managed to have so much control when he was about to lose it all. And then it became even worse as Mark slipped his tongue inside of Haechan’s mouth and the younger boy had to tighten his grip around Mark’s torso. He whined into Mark's mouth, making the other hum back, picking up the pace, biting his lower lip and sucking on it, letting his hand fall from Haechan's face to his neck, then chest, then to his stomach, grazing the skin separated by Mark's fingers only by his thin button-down. 

Haechan had to stop him. It was going too far. That was a mistake. They still had to work together. There’s a reason why Haechan avoided talking to the coworkers he fucked before. Mark wasn't realizing that but Haechan did. He had to be responsible. 

Stop him, Haechan. Stop him. 

"Mark, wait", he broke off the kiss when Mark's hands reached his jeans button. The boy looked down at him, panting, eyes half-closed: he was begging Haechan to let him continue. 

Haechan grabbed his shirt and dragged him around the corner, into the shadows. 

"Tomorrow we forget about this, okay?", he warned him, shutting his brain off. "Okay", Mark replied quickly putting his mouth on Haechan's again as if unable to be away from it for too long. And he put his hands on Haechan's jeans again as well, opening the button, letting the zip fall slowly, tucking his hand underneath Haechan's boxers, feeling his soft and hot skin, wrapping his fingers around him tightly, not letting the struggling Haechan to break off the kiss to moan. And he didn't even last too long. The boy came shuddering all over Mark's fist after a few good strokes and the older finally let him press his face into his chest. 

Shit, he had never lasted this little. What the hell.

Haechan was fucking embarrassed and if Mark wouldn't have been too drunk to remember anyway, he would have just run away to hide in that exact moment. 

"Fuck", Mark cursed under his breath, feeling Haechan’s hot release on his skin, nudging at Haechan's temple with his lips while the other came down from his high.   "Oh, fuck, you're so hot like this, Haechan. And cute. Shit, you're so cute, I'm going crazy", he babbled before letting Haechan's cock go and trying to bring his fingers to his lips. "Oh no", Haechan gulped trying to stop him. "Mark, don't. You touched all sort of things in the club with that hand", and Mark stopped for a second as if processing the information before dropping to his knees and tasting Haechan directly. 

The boy opened his mouth in a silent gasp and he was still so aroused that feeling Mark's tongue made him hard again in a second. 

"Fuck", Haechan swore loudly, pressing his fingers into the wall behind him, letting his head fall back, feeling himself grow harder inside Mark's mouth. 

He didn't expect it. He didn't expect any of this. Innocent and soft Mark Lee sucking him off like no one has done before in the dark corner of a club? Haechan the slut coming in two seconds and getting hard again soon after? Past Haechan would have laughed, yet there he was, moaning Mark's name like a mantra, coming for the second time in minutes like a little virgin. 

It was no dream. It was a reality. 

Mark didn't let him go and Haechan felt like flying as his cum descended inside Mark's throat. And then he looked down right in time to catch a glimpse of Mark's eyes, looking up at him, letting his cock out with a lewd plop. "Mark, where did you learn that?", Haechan asked suddenly exhausted. The boy licked his lips and held onto Haechan to get up, shakily. "Was that good? It was my first time doing it", he mumbled with a smile before resting his head on Haechan's shoulder, the cocktail he had right before adding to his brain fog.

_______

Mark woke up to the sound of a heartbeat. It was a comforting sound. Deep and regular. 

He groaned softly as his lids realized they were getting hit by bright and irritating sunlight. Then he opened his eyes slowly, focusing on the windows first, vision blurry, then on the plant underneath it, then on the young man underneath him. 

Mark's muscles got a spasm and woke up completely as his brain finally made sense of what was going on. Meaning that his face was resting on Haechan's chest. Bare chest. And his own torso, bare torso, was wrapped by the boy's arms. 

Oh fuck, he thought. Oh shit. 

"It's too late in the morning to run away", Haechan mumbled, waking up softly as well. 

Mark froze as he was trying to get up. He was propped up on an elbow when Haechan opened his eyes and Mark felt his breath hitch. 

Haechan was there, pillow adorned with his luscious locks lying all around his head like a halo, chocolate eyes warmed by the sun shining through the windows and his skin, God, he looked like an angel. 

"I'm not going away", Mark lied, surprising himself by how deep and hoarse his voice sounded like. "Fuck, you're so cute right now", he whispered soon after, unable to control himself. 

Haechan's eyes got wider at Mark's words. He expected Mark to freak out, and Mark was freaking out inside a lot, but having Haechan like that, underneath him, vulnerable and beautiful as never before, made Mark feel peaceful at the same time. 

This is all he wanted in life. 

The older managed to keep it together for a few other seconds, trying to look confident, but when Haechan's cheeks reddened with blush, Mark lost it and blushed as well, rolling away, grabbing a pillow to hide his face in with a scream. 

"I can't believe it", his voice came out muffled. "Oh my God", he yelled quietly. 

Haechan started to chuckle embarrassed. "What an idiot". 

"How-", Mark removed the pillow enough for one eye to poke out. "How far-", he stuttered. 

Haechan rolled his eyes, faking nonchalance. 

"Just oral", he whispered while getting up and putting his feet on the ground, turning his back to Mark, unable to look at him in the face either. 

"Oh", the other sounded weirdly disappointed. Haechan pinched the base of his nose. That man was sending such mixed messages. "You did dry hump my ass if that makes things better", Haechan spoke through his teeth, embarrassed out of his mind, grabbing the bottle of water he kept on his nightstand. "I'm sorry. You deserve to get fucked properly", Mark replied quietly as if thinking at loud, making Haechan choke on his water and spit it all around the room. 

Mark sat up quickly and placed a hand on Haechan's shoulder. "Are you okay?" 

The choking boy turned around to face him. 

"I thought you'd be all embarrassed about this", he commented while drying his wet lips with the back of his hand. 

"I am!" Mark's eyes got wide and his red ears confirmed it, but it was still not what Haechan expected. 

"I mean", Haechan hesitated, unsure of what words to use, "I thought you'd regret it in the morning. You were really drunk last night and you had no idea what you were doing”. 

Mark's face visibly darkened. 

"Do you regret it?", he asked. 

Haechan went on with his phrase ignoring Mark’s question. "-like I was sober and I was worried that maybe I should have-". 

"Haechan". 

Mark's voice was so deep and serious that Haechan's heart started to beat faster upon hearing him calling his name like that. "Answer me. Do you regret it? Did I- fuck - did I do something wrong?", Mark asked ruffling his hair with one hand. He looked so worried and distressed that Haechan for a second didn't know what to say. 

"No", the younger finally shook his head. "No", he repeated. "I was aware of everything and I made my choice consciously but you-", Haechan hesitated again.  "Me too", Mark spoke up, nodding. "I remember everything until you helped me to get out of the club. After I sucked y-".

"Don't say it", Haechan stopped him with a raised palm. 

Mark chuckled embarrassedly. 

If only Haechan knew how cute he was being in that moment, faking his serious face and steading his voice. Mark would have wanted to see Haechan confess just how weak he was. 

"So you, like, you wanted it? Not because you were just drunk and I happened to be there?", Haechan asked timidly. Haechan couldn't believe he was so shy to talk about sex with someone. It has never happened before. Nothing he did with Mark happened before. 

Mark gulped down. "I wanted it, yeah. I didn't do it because I was drunk. I did it thanks to that. I don't think I would have had the courage otherwise", he explained. "But I'm also sorry. It mustn't be nice to- like--uh, you know, with a drunk person", he stuttered, eyes closing and opening as he thought about the words to use. 

Haechan looked down, shyly. "You were very hot actually", he whispered back, scratching the back of his head. 

"Haechan," Mark finally found his voice after a moment of shocked silence. "I swear to God, I would take you-", but interrupted himself abruptly. 

Haechan looked at him flustered. 

Mark cleared his voice. 

Then he shook his head. 

"No", he chuckled at himself. "Nothing, never mind", he added suddenly getting up, the covers sliding down his naked body. 

Haechan looked at it. He had looked at it the whole night. That night he kissed every inch of that skin and listened to Mark's soft moans. And Haechan realized that it wasn't a hookup. At all. Not for him. But Mark didn't remember that part and Haechan didn't want to tell him. If Haechan had to think about it for the next month, so be it. It was all on him. He let himself go too far and he wasn't talking about the physical aspect. It was all his fault if his heart was aching to see Mark get dressed instead of lying beside him, cuddling, or better, doing what Mark didn't dare to tell him.

_______

"Tomorrow we forget about this, okay?".

Forgetting. 

Mark wanted to forget but he couldn't do it. Not the day after and not on Monday morning, seeing Haechan's pretty lips so close to him and not being able to kiss them. 

Mark lied when Haechan asked him what he remembered. 

Well, not entirely, because he did forget some parts. 

But he was definitely lucid when Haechan went down on him, slowly, after kissing his lips, then his neck, sucking on his skin, then his chest and stomach as Mark wrapped Haechan's hair around his fingers. The boy asked multiple times if Mark was okay with that until Mark had to basically beg to just suck him off already. And God, he was so cute doing it. He would never forget how that felt. Divine. His head was so light as if zero oxygen got to it, every drop of blood concentrated inside of Haechan's warm and wet mouth instead. 

And he was staring at that mouth now, as Haechan explained the work to do for the day. Mark wasn't even that horny. No. He just wanted to hold him again and softly press his lips on Haechan's plump ones. 

"Tomorrow we forget about this". 

Haechan was sober when he said that. He meant it. He wouldn't have said that if he didn't mean it. Right? Should he ask? Haechan, did you forget? Do you want to forget? Because I don't. 

And I can't. 

"Mark", Haechan snapped his fingers in front of him making the boy jolt. "Focus", he ordered. "What are you thinking about?".

You. I'm thinking about you. You. You. I've been thinking about you for days, Haechan. 

"Lunch", Mark shrugged. Haechan rolled his eyes. "What an idiot".

_______

That afternoon Haechan was in a relatively good mood. 

He should have known that the most peaceful days could bring the most terrible storms though. 

So he jolted at the sound of a voice he almost forgot how it sounded like. 

"Haechan, I thought you died or something". 

The boy in question looked up from his computer to see a pair of feline eyes. 

They were bright and amused. Then he saw the lips. Soft and pink stretched in a sweet smile. 

Doyoung was still like a house with all the lights on, but now it wasn’t empty anymore. Now everyone was home. This house was full of people, all happy and content. 

Haechan was so glad. He truly was. This is what he has always wanted to see since first locking eyes with that man. But he also felt suddenly miserable. Miserable and confused. 

His heart shouldn't have skipped a beat like that. Not anymore. 

"I did die and I just got back from hell", he replied, trying to sound as snarky as possible. It wasn't entirely a lie. 

"What about you? You also went missing". Doyoung blushed subtly at the innuendo and Haechan felt the urge to punch the table. Or himself. "I've been busy", Doyoung replied softly. "So you went to paradise instead, I see", Haechan commented with a smile hoping that no one noticed how fake it was.

_______

"A man can't have his alone time in peace. What do you want?", Haechan rolled his eyes while Mark sat down beside him, resting his back on the rooftop wall, looking in front of him at the blue sky. 

It was a sunny day with a slight breeze, enough for Haechan's fringe to wave gently. 

Mark loved it when the wind ruffled Haechan's hair but he couldn't bring himself to look at the younger boy. Not at that moment. 

"I didn't know", Mark whispered. "What?", Haechan's voice came out irritated but he didn't care. 

"That you were in love", Mark added. 

Haechan choked on his breath. 

"I'm not", he crossed his arms on his chest and closed his eyes as if sunbathing. Conversation over, it meant. An angry bronzing session. 

Mark finally looked at him then, feeling safe as he wasn't seen back. He watched the way Haechan’s skin glowed under the warm rays. Mark thought about how it would feel under his fingertips but he wasn’t sure. He touched it before but now he couldn’t remember it. Mark wanted to raise one hand and touch his cheek again, this time fully concentrating on the feeling. He wanted to let it slide down the boy’s jawline, feeling the sharp bone, then on his neck where the angry pulsating artery pumped blood at a crazy speed. Then he wanted to hear Haechan’s soft breath as his hand unbuttoned his shirt, this time feeling his heartbeat. Mark wanted it to be fast and only for him. For Mark. 

It all made sense now. But why does it have to be like that? What should Mark do? What do people do in this scenario? 

Was he thinking about this Doyoung guy? Has Haechan been thinking about other men? The whole time? While Mark was thinking about him? 

Was he imagining kissing that man's lips while Mark's mind was full of Haechan and Haechan only? 

Of course, he would. 

What was Mark thinking? Isn’t this what he accepted? Isn’t this what he decided to adventure in? Why was Mark suddenly so hurt about Haechan behaving as he anticipated him to do? 

We forget about this in the morning and Mark was certain now that Haechan actually did forget. 

"Does he know?", Mark asked after a while. Haechan snorted. "Of course he doesn't". "He doesn't know what?".

The other boy sighed at the trap. 

"Just leave me alone", he ordered. And Mark actually got up and left. 

Haechan's cheeks got wet right when it started to rain.

_______

"Mark, if you have something to say, just say it". 

It's been a few days of Mark not talking but still looking at Haechan as if about to burst in a monologue anytime soon. 

Haechan had been brusque with him before, but it never came to Mark not talking to him. 

The younger boy wasn’t stupid. It was obvious what was going on with Mark but Haechan didn’t have the force to deal with it sooner. 

"I don't have anything to say", Mark replied. "Do you have anything to say?".

Haechan rested his back on the chair and looked at Mark, irritated. 

"Okay, we need to sort this thing out. We can't work like this". "Like this how? We're working just fine", Mark didn't raise his eyes from the computer. "Mark, you've been writing and deleting the same line for a while now", Haechan indicated the screen with his chin. "Well, maybe something is going on with me but it doesn't have anything to do with you, so we don't need to talk about anything", Mark replied finally starting a new line. 

So Mark was able to lie as well, huh?

"Mark", Haechan lowered his voice. "Do you perhaps have feelings for me?", he whispered. 

"What?!" Mark yelled. 

Onew jolted on his seat. 

"Keep your voice down, you dumbass", Haechan put one hand on his thigh. Mark looked down at it then at Haechan's face. 

Haechan retrieved his hand back. 

Mark breathed heavily before talking. 

"It's just--”, he rested his back on the chair as well, “I've never been with someone like that before and I'm so confused right now, like, I don't know if I have feelings for you or just--like, I need closure?", he questioned as if talking to himself. 

Haechan was surprised that Mark told him all that. 

"You mean that you're a virgin?", the younger asked incredulously. "Uhm, I can hear you", Onew said. "Then get your ass up and take a stroll, Owen", Haechan spoke up. 

Mark flinched at his sudden and loud voice. 

Their colleague shook his head as if not believing he was dealing with some weirdos and got out of the office mumbling something about gen z people. 

"I am not a virgin. I meant hookups", Mark explained after a little pause while his cheeks acted like a virgin's. "You said you've never sucked someone before", Haechan raised one eyebrow. "It's alright if you're a virgin, Mark. You just have to tell me and-”, he interrupted himself as if realizing what they actually did, “-fuck, you had to tell me before as well. God, I acted recklessly, I should hav-".

"I am not a virgin! Stop saying that. I've never sucked before because I've been eating pussy, okay?", Mark raised his voice.

Haechan blinked at him. "So you're confused about your sexuality?" 

Mark rolled his eyes defeated. "I know what I like! I'm not confused. Just hear me out!" "You said you were confused just a minute ago", Haechan said. "But not about my sexuality. Because of the hookup!"  "Why are you yelling?", Haechan yelled.  "I'm not yelling!", Mark yelled back.  "You're arguing with me right now". "Because you're not listening! I don't know how I'm feeling about you because I've never slept around before. I-- just--don't like it", Mark stuttered.  "Then why did you sleep with me?", Haechan was exasperated.  Mark whined. "Because I liked you already”.  "So you do like me. You have feelings for me", Haechan raised his hands as if talking with a fool. 

The other shifted in his seat as if uncomfortable. 

"Don't all people like their hookup partners though? Like, would you sleep with someone if they were ugly as fuck? I don't think so. You still need to be attracted to them a little". 

Haechan sighed while massaging his temples. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation. Didn't you have crushes before? Don't you know what it feels like to be in love?".

Mark groaned tiredly. "I did. And I know. But this is different", he spoke with a softer tone. 

Haechan sighed. "So what? Am I supposed to help you figure that out? If you like me or not?". 

Mark straightened his tie and focused on his computer again as if the conversation was over. 

"Listen, you wanted to hear me talk, so I did". 

The younger boy stared at the other’s fingers as they started to type something, probably useless. 

"Do you even want to like me? Like what's your expectation?". 

Mark’s fingers stopped and he remained silent for a little while. "Well, you like somebody else, so it wouldn't be nice if I had feelings for you, would it?". 

Haechan prolonged the silence a bit. "I'm getting out of it".

Mark turned his head to him. 

That was a lie, Mark could see it. A blatant lie. 

"Do you want me to like you?", he asked. His voice was soft and low. 

Haechan thought about it for a second. He didn’t know what to say. 

Mark sighed, unable to wait like that, and closed his eyes, reclining back on his seat again. 

"I like you, Haechan. Okay? I like you, fuck. I don't care if you like somebody else". 

Haechan’s heart started to beat even faster than before. 

“Was this the problem, then? You were jealous?”, Haechan’s voice came out quieter than he intended. 

Mark opened his eyes and looked down at his hands clasped together. 

He shrugged. 

“You don’t have to worry about me. I just needed to say it. I’m not asking for anything from you”, Mark directed his gaze towards Haechan. 

He looked so serious that it made Haechan’s cheeks get pink again. 

Mark’s eyes trembled imperceptibly at that reaction but he didn’t dare to say anything about it. 

He cleared his voice as Haechan couldn’t bring himself to add anything either and got back to work.

_______

It was very late at night. 

Haechan had no idea what time it was but it was not a time normal people would be awake at. 

He fidgeted under the covers, restless and irritated. He felt hot and his mind wouldn’t let him sleep. 

His hands found his phone after a while, ready to click on Jaemin’s name. But then his thumb slid down and it stopped over Mark instead. 

Haechan stared at the bright screen until he felt his eyes tear up from lack of blinking then just pressed it with a huff. 

Bad person Haechan. You’re a bad person. You’re such a bad person. A mistake. You did a mistake a now you were about to make another one.

“Yes”, Mark’s rough voice interrupted Haechan’s train of thoughts. 

The younger boy opened his mouth to breathe better and he let that monosyllable caress his ears even after the sound already died. 

“Hey”, Haechan whispered, closing his eyes, helping his other senses to get sharper. 

Mark groaned softly and shifted in his bed, probably turning in a more comfortable position. “Haechan”, he said in the same sleepy and deep voice and Haechan had to make an effort to not whimper into the phone. 

Why was Haechan so affected by this boy but at the same time so afraid of him? He shouldn’t have let Mark get so involved. Haechan should have put a wall between them the first time his lips said that first “cute”, then another one when he blatantly saw the way Mark’s eyes couldn’t leave him, then another one that night in the club, and another one when Mark asked him if Haechan wanted to be liked. And now as well. Just end the call. 

But he couldn’t. 

His walls were not strong enough for Mark and Haechan was a bad person. 

He liked it. He liked a lot. Haechan wanted more and more even if he could give back only darkness. 

“I’m sorry I woke you up”, Haechan said after waiting a few seconds to recollect himself. 

Mark hummed as if telling him that it was alright. “Is everything okay?” he asked and Haechan noticed the way Mark was slowly waking up by the growing concern in his voice. “Yeah, yeah, everything is good. I just…”, Haechan hesitated. 

Why did he even call Mark in the first place? Did he need company? Rude. Did he miss him? Gross. He was a bad person, using people when he needed, disregarding their feelings? Yeah. 

“I wanted to speak to someone”, he decided to be honest. 

Mark’s breath got louder for a second as if he laughed lightly. “I’m glad you thought of me, then. Unless you called other people first and no one replied”. 

Haechan smiled, feeling like a teenager talking to his first crush, then stopped, starting to hate himself. “No. You’re the only one I called”, he confessed. 

What was he doing? Bad. Bad Haechan. Bad. 

Mark went silent and Haechan listened to his breath for a while.

“You confuse me so much, Haechan”, Mark’s voice was a whisper and Haechan swallowed nothing, feeling his throat suddenly dry. 

Yeah. It was not fair. Not when Mark told him how he was feeling and Haechan couldn’t do the same. 

“But I’m not complaining”, Mark added before Haechan could apologize and end the call, finally getting to his senses. “I don’t care, Haechan. I like you so much. You can do whatever you want to me”. 

Haechan bit his lower lip. God, he hated himself. 

“Mark-”. “Would you do something for me?”, the boy interrupted him. “Mm? What?”. “Would you-”, Mark stopped, breath suddenly quicker, “-would you-uhm-- shit”, he repeated softly before chuckling, slightly embarrassed. 

Haechan’s skin got goosebumps, wondering if he understood what Mark wanted. His heartbeat started to pump blood at a crazy speed at it all went in a single place. 

So he did what Mark asked, even if he would end up being wrong, only because he wanted it too. He slid a hand under his t-shirt, slowly, until reaching his nipples, and whined into the phone. 

Mark went completely silent for a second. 

Haechan whined again a little louder. 

“Fuck, Haechan”, Mark’s voice trembled. "Are you-- are you touching yourself?”.

Haechan hummed. “My nipples”, he simply replied as he pinched them, playing with himself, feeling his boxers get tighter at every stroke. “Oh fuck”, Mark’s rough voice made Haechan squeeze his eyes together and open his mouth in a silent moan. 

They were both panting. Haechan couldn’t tell if Mark was just lying there and imagining or if he started to shyly let his hand slide south as well. 

“How does it feel?”, Mark inquired with a shaken voice and Haechan realized he still had too much control to be rubbing one out as well. “It feels so good, Mark”, the younger one replied, adding soft swears as his fingers got under the fabric of his boxers, letting the elastic hit his abdomen once, loudly, making sure Mark heard it as well. “Hmm -a-ah”, he wrapped his cock with his hand, pumping it slowly a few times, pressing his thumb on the slit. 

He didn’t need to exaggerate any sound. Knowing that Mark was listening could make Haechan go over the edge alone. 

“Haechan, you make me go so fucking crazy”, Mark’s shaking voice made Haechan bite his lower lip. “You too, Mark”, he confessed in the cloud of sensations. 

Then listened to the way the other boy’s bed sheets irrefutably shifted and the bed creaked and his breath hitched as he started to pleasure himself to the sound of Haechan’s whimpers and the image he had of him.  

They didn’t talk anymore. There was no need to and they weren’t able to either. Not having Mark near him, made Haechan last longer but it was still too quickly than usual so he stopped right before cumming, edging himself until the other whined into his pillow, cursing and calling Haechan’s name.

_______

Haechan avoided Mark the whole day. He told Mark that he had some other work and barely came into the office. 

The older boy would sigh every five minutes, mind racing, making the poor Onew groan. 

“He’s feeling awkward. You guys fucked, it’s normal”. 

Mark turned his head towards him as if awoken from a dream, cheeks blushing violently as soon as he made sense of the other’s words. 

“Also, you’re in love with him. I would avoid someone in love with me as well if I only wanted to fuck them,” Onew added as if talking about the weather. Mark was unable to speak. “He’s afraid to hurt you now”. 

“I told him it was alright, though”, Mark finally whispered, trying hard to suppress the hysterical little chuckle he would get when nervous or talking about embarrassing stuff. 

Onew got up with his empty coffee mug in his hand. 

“Show it. Do something that can make him realize that it’s okay for you to be in this type of relationship”, he added before walking out whistling with not one single worry in the world. 

Mark would have wanted to whistle as well but couldn’t. 

That advice was breaking his heart. 

It was true. Mark said that he was okay, but he was lying. 

Of course, he was not alright. 

He wanted to, oh he wanted so bad to be alright but it was so late. It was already late from the beginning. Mark didn’t want that kind of relationship. He wanted more. 

But Onew was also right. Mark had to do something. If being able to have Haechan like that meant breaking his own heart, Mark was ready to do it. 

And when that night he went to Jungwoo’s monthly party again, he forced his beating heart to stop upon seeing Haechan’s back. 

The young men’s slender figure was curved in a laugh, the pretty sound almost audible to Mark’s far away ears. Then Haechan sipped from the drink in front of him, still amused by the handsome bartender’s joke, and spun around in his chair right in time to see Mark being hit on by a woman. 

Haechan’s lips stopped on the edge of the glass, eyes unable to blink, staring emotionless at the way Mark’s lips curved in a timid smile while his hands weren’t timid at all, firmly grabbing that girl’s hips as she wiggled her ass against Mark’s crotch. 

Haechan turned around, placing the drink on the counter with a slightly shaking hand. 

“Everything alright?”, the bartender asked. 

Haechan didn’t reply and threw his head back, finished his cocktail in one gulp.

_______

It was quite early when the boy left the party. Haechan felt like suffocating in the middle of all those people breathing heavily, clouding his mind. 

Waiting for his taxi outside, ignoring the stares of horny people smoking and grinding against each other by the entrance of the Garages, he got reasonable startled when two hands suddenly wrapped his torso. 

But those were some delicate fingers and Haechan could recognize that cologne in a thousand others. 

Mark rested his face on Haechan’s shoulder and no one said anything for a little while, listening to the deep bass coming out of the club, the yelling and the traffic on the main road just a few blocks away. 

“Sorry if I startled you”, Mark mumbled. 

Haechan bit his lower lip and turned around, expecting a drunk and horny Mark yet again. But the boy’s eyes were wide and awake, his usual staring-as-if-reading-your-soul eyes met Haechan’s ones. 

The younger looked at them for a second then he eyed the bright red hickeys on the other’s neck as well as the slightly unbuttoned shirt. 

“I see you’ve had some fun tonight”, Haechan commented unable to hide his bitter tone. Not that Mark wouldn’t have been able to see through his fake face anyway. 

Mark licked his lips and tugged Haechan’s hips towards him. 

"Is this alright?", his voice was low and sultry, ignoring Haechan’s little jab, caressing his lower back instead. 

Haechan started to pant softly, unsuccessfully trying to take a step back then he gulped down staring at the other’s lips getting each second closer. 

"We can pretend it didn't happen", Mark went on, "just like we've always done, isn’t that right?", and Haechan could have sworn that Mark was a little pissed off. “Fucking at night then pretending we don’t know each other during the day, huh? Isn’t this what you want? I can do that”. 

Mark's fingers reached the hem of Haechan's t-shirt by now, hiking it up slowly, dragging his fingertips on his skin. It was warm, just like Mark had always imagined. A loud cheer mixed with glass shattering made Haechan flinch but Mark shushed him, every second closer until they were breathing each other's air. 

"I really want to take you right now, just like this". 

Mark's whisper made both of their hearts beat like crazy.  The first, not believing he was talking like that, the second, not believing that Mark was telling him that. 

And when Haechan finally closed his eyes, ready to melt into the kiss, Mark's lips ghosted his cheek and neck instead, fingers still drawing little circles on the younger's chest, resting his palm on the beating heart. Then he pulled away. 

“It’s a shame that you’re pushing me away like this”, Mark straightened his back and walked away.

_______

Mark was a weird guy. 

And when Haechan bumped into him inside the local supermarket near his apartment, a large sweatshirt on his frame, boyfriend jeans, ruffled hair, a little stubble, concerned expression behind his golden round glasses, the tip of his tongue out, licking his lips mindlessly, deciding what brand of cereal he wanted, Haechan felt the urge to go there and yell at him that he's in love. 

Haechan never liked the "what are we" question. 

Everyone around him asked that. What are we? Friends. Friends with benefits. Nothing, we're just fucking. Haechan has never adventured there. But now, looking at Mark's profile, his hand finally picking up the cereal pack, Haechan wanted to ask him that question. 

What are we, Mark? 

Because I want us to be something. 

I want to claim you in ways that give other people no place to do the same. 

Not a friend, not a colleague, not a friend with benefits. 

An etiquette that only Haechan could claim. 

Even if Haechan didn’t deserve that. 

Mine. My boyfriend. Mine. Mine. All mine. 

Was that wrong? Probably. 

But Haechan felt no remorse. 

Was that love? Haechan was unsure but he wanted to find out. 

So he walked over. Was Mark there because he hoped to see Haechan? "Oh, Haechan", Mark seemed genuinely surprised when the younger called his name. "What are you doing here?", the boy asked. 

Mark looked around briefly as if suddenly not knowing where he was. "The meat here is higher quality than the supermarket near my apartment", he explained and Haechan could see the way Mark's expression screamed honesty. 

He wasn’t there because of Haechan. Mark might have had a crush on the other but he was slipping away now. 

Come back, Mark. Come back to me. Call me cute again. Touch my skin. Don’t do this. Don’t play with me like this. 

"Haechan", Mark's voice wavered as the boy got suddenly closer. "We're in public". 

Haechan didn’t look away. “You didn’t care about the public last night. You let that slut fuck you in front of everyone then you dared to flirt with me and leave me on the edge like that?”, he confronted him. 

Mark’s little stunt made the younger so mad the day before that he felt like bursting in his pants during the drive home. Cheeks flushed and trembling hand, he didn’t even bother to walk to the bedroom. He closed his eyes and threw his head back to rest against the entrance door as soon as he stepped into his empty apartment. He came and came, again and again, until he felt too sensitive to touch himself anymore. God, he was so mad. 

“Haechan, are you jealous?”, Mark’s eyes relaxed, the cereal pack still between them, the gaze of some elderly ladies not leaving their backs. 

Haechan’s jaw muscles flexed. “Yeah. I am. I am jealous. I am fucking jealous. Okay? I hate it. I hate that you sleep with other people. You’re mine and mine only”, Haechan spat out quickly before he could regret saying it. 

He was panting and he didn’t even have to look at himself to know that he was all red. 

Mark’s breath hitched in a startled laugh. 

“And I hate that you have all of this control over me. I was done, okay? I was done with feelings and here you are, doing all of this bullshit to me. Your little game worked. Are you happy?”. 

Getting out of the apartment that late morning, Mark didn’t anticipate getting a confession from Haechan in the cereal aisle while said person looked up at him with furrowed eyebrows, doe eyes and a trembling lower lip. 

God, he was so cute, Mark wanted to grab his face and kiss him. 

“You saw my game and played by my rules?”, Mark asked impressed. 

“You didn’t even give me time to play at all! I got defeated before starting”, the other admitted frustrated. 

Mark chuckled. “Why are you getting mad at me, Haechan? You ignored me in the first place, sleeping with other people.” 

The boy huffed exasperated and walked away, bumping Mark in the shoulder, making the other pirouette and grab him by the forearm. 

“I was joking. Come on”, he cooed. “This is what I’ve always wanted”. 

Haechan put his tongue inside his cheek, annoyed. “What? Me making a fool out of myself?”

“Showing yourself to me”, Mark replied kindly. 

Haechan rolled his eyes, still using his faking-nonchalance-to-not-show-his-feelings technique, but Mark was already immune to that. In fact, he has been immune to that from the start. 

Haechan loved it. 

Haechan loved it so much that he got scared. It was too good to be true.

________

It was pouring heavily when they got out of the supermarket. Haechan had his apartment windows open and they could smell the scent of rain, clean and refreshing. 

It was cold but Mark's body heated the boy in a second, groceries fallen on the floor, wrapping his arms around the other’s frame. 

They did not kiss and Haechan was quite surprised but he didn't say anything, hiding his face the crook of Mark's neck instead, inhaling all of his favourite scents at the same time. 

"I called you upstairs for a different reason," Haechan mumbled, surprised at the sudden softness, the sound of his voice muffled by the other's slightly damp sweatshirt. 

"I know," Mark whispered against his temple. 

He placed a delicate kiss there, then another one slightly below, then another one, drawing a line until reaching the jaw. Haechan raised his face and Mark kissed the corner of his lips, then the other cheek, and jaw again, and the other temple. 

Haechan closed his eyes with a little smile as if giving up. 

Mark, what are you doing?".

"I want you to think", the other replied, lips still busy. Haechan scoffed. "I want to stop thinking". "I want you to think about me". 

His lips reached Haechan's forehead and stayed there for a little. 

The only sound was the rain and Haechan's quick heart. 

"I already think about you a lot", Haechan confessed, face close to Mark's collarbones. 

"And why do you want to stop?" the other murmured. 

His voice was so relaxing and calming that Haechan for a second forgot why was he trying to not think about Mark in the first place. Why was he pushing him away? Why has he been pushing him away all of that time?

Then he remembered when Mark's hands slid down Haechan's back. 

"Because I'm a bad person". Mark sighed as if he expected that but still wanted to hear the other say it. "You're not a good judge". Haechan tsk-ed. "Well, thanks, I guess." "I am the one who has to decide if you're a bad person or not, and I say that you're not." "You're blinded by love”. 

Mark hugged Haechan even tighter. 

"Yeah, I am, so Haechan, please, let me love you", his tone darkened suddenly. "Stop pushing me away. I can handle anything". 

"I'm going to fuck up", Haechan shook his head. 

"You won't and if you do, I still want to take my chances. What if I fuck up before you do?" 

Haechan laughed, resting his chin on Mark's chest, rising his face to look at the boy in the eyes. "Mark, you're a saint".

The saint’s eyes were those of a sinner though when he pressed his thumb on Haechan’s plump, lower lip. 

"Have you ever made love to someone before?", he asked with a deep voice. 

Haechan's eyes widened with amusement. "Are you joking? I’m a hoe.” 

Mark hummed. "No. I said, love. Have you? Because I haven't either and I desperately want to make love to you right now". 

And Mark was right. 

Haechan had never made love with someone before and he realized it as soon as the other's hands cupped his cheeks, kissing his lips softly, pushing him back towards the bed, making him sit on it, letting Haechan watch as Mark elegantly took away his sweatshirt first then the shirt underneath it. 

Haechan blinked, emotions he has never felt before invading his whole body as Mark pushed him down with a gentle touch, kissing his stomach and going up, taking Haechan's top with him, letting the cold air caress his skin making it all shiver. It would have shivered anyways, goosebumps forming at every feathery touch of Mark's lips. They took away all of the remaining clothes, touching each other slowly, curiously, exploring everything, with fingertips and lips and tongues. Attentive, remembering which stroke made the other whine louder, what kind of whisper pleased the ears more, what pet name made the other blush. 

It was still raining hard, but they weren't cold, tightly wrapped in each other arms, the heavy covers to hide their secret whispers from the world. They were hidden in giggles and heavy breaths, "here?", "yeah", "like this?", "hmm", and Haechan felt so present. He was there, at that moment and he was seen. Mark was looking at him, really looking and Haechan didn't have to do anything to make it happen. There was no reason to put on an act. He just had to be himself. Vulnerable and- "cute," Mark whispered, chests rising, short breaths, his thumb caressing Haechan's red cheeks. 

"Say it again", Haechan smiled. 

Mark imitated him, his lips murmuring the word until they didn't have to, the feeling of it lingering in the air by itself.

[skullrock]

the lovers - Steve Harrington x Reader

pairing: Steve x Reader

summary: you’re a college student working at the info desk at your local art museum. you meet Steve when his class comes in to see the latest exhibit. Steve keeps coming back to see you. awkward flirtations/cuteness ensues.

word count: 2,036 (I am sorry)

warnings: none!

a/n: hello!! this is my first oneshot in many years! please feel free to leave feedback/constructive criticism! my requests are open :)

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

You enjoyed your job as an information desk attendant at the local art museum. It was nice to meet new people and listen to their observations about the exhibits. You loved art, too, and were currently majoring in it. Plus, on really slow days, you were able to get homework done. It seemed like the perfect job for a college student.

It was on one of those agonizingly slow days that you first saw Steve Harrington. You were waiting for an art class from your college in town to come look at the newest installation. Your job was to check the class in and take them to their guide. As the crowd of students flooded in, you scanned for any familiar faces, waving to a few. Your eyes landed on a boy, no older than you, standing towards the back of the group. You hadn’t seen him here before; you definitely would have remembered. Long hair, tall and toned, plush lips. He was the kind of beautiful that made your heart ache, the kind that deserved to be considered art.

He looked over at you, making eye contact, and you smiled at him, quickly looking down and moving to the front of the group. Once acquainted with their guide, you left to sit back at the desk. You picked up a textbook to study. It was pointless, though. You couldn’t get the boy out of your head.

You were surprised when he came back the next week. This time, he wasn’t alone. He came with a pretty girl with short brown hair and bright eyes. You knew her – Robin – from a class you had together last semester. As they approached, you felt heat rising to your cheeks.

“Two student tickets?” you ask as they approach. Steve stares for a long moment before Robin pinches his arm.

“Oh! Uh, yeah,” he stutters, running a hand through his hair. “Yes. Two.”

You laugh slightly, awkwardly, and hand him two tickets and two gallery maps. “I remember you from last week,” you say. “Are you back for more?”

“I wanted to bring my friend, ya know, show her around,” he replies, fiddling with the edge of the tickets. There’s an awkward pause before you respond.

“Well, enjoy! If you have any questions I’ll be right here.”

He pauses, whispers, “I-okay,” and turns on his heel. Robin says a quick thanks before running to catch up with him. As they walk away, you hear him say, “Shut up, Robin!”

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

Robin and Steve wander aimlessly through the galleries. Steve tries to act like he really is interested in what they’re looking at, but she knows him better than that.

“You dragged me here to see this girl,” Robin says, “and all you do is make weird faces at her?”

Steve rolls his eyes and doesn’t respond.

“I thought you were going to get to know her,” Robin continues. “At this rate, how long is it going to take? Five years?”

“I- Robin!” Steve says, exasperated. “I have a system! I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you? You haven’t been King Steve in a while, dingus. Do you even remember what a girl is?”

Steve wanted more than anything to rebuke her, to tell her she’s wrong, but he knew she was right. He could remember the unfortunate flirting he attempted at Scoops and the disaster that was his relationship with Nancy. He usually ducked his head around pretty girls. But something compelled him to go for you. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew he couldn’t mess this one up.

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

The week after, he is back. This time, he walks in with a more confident swagger. You ready a ticket for him.

“Hi,” he says as he approaches.

“You must really like coming here,” you joke, handing him his admission and another gallery guide.

“What can I say? I’m a connoisseur.”

“Okay, connoisseur,” you remarked, smiling. “Who is your favorite artist?”

“Well, you know,” he says, trying to seem nonchalant. “It’s hard to pick. But if I had to, I’d probably go with...” In a moment of panic, his eyes shift down to the first name he sees on the gallery guide. “Monet.”

He pronounces this with a hard T.

You stare at him, almost stunned. You realize now that he’s putting up a front, trying to be confident, in an attempt to talk to you. You laugh.

“Uh, it’s Moe-ney,” you smirked. “But I appreciate the effort.”

His face falls and his eyes widen, looking panicked. You could see the blush creep up on his cheeks, almost hear his heartbeat speed up. You reveled in it.

“I know!” he defends. “Monet isn’t even my favorite. I was kidding.”

“Okay, mister big artiste. Do you have a name?”

“Steve,” he sighs. “It’s Steve.”

“I’m Y/N. You better start studying.”

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

“You said what?!”

Robin nearly rolls on the floor from how hard she’s laughing. “You called him what?!”

“I know how its pronounced, okay?” Steve groaned. “I just – I said it phonetically.”

“Literally everyone knows that’s not how you say it.”

“Whatever!” Steve huffs, plunking down on the couch. “You’ve gotta help me, Rob. I really want to know this girl. I want to have a chance. I can’t be an idiot around her.”

“But you’re smart, Steve.” Robin pats his knee. “Why don’t you impress her with the knowledge you dopossess?”

“Oh, like what? Like how to take care of 6 kids that aren’t even yours? Or how to make microwave mac and cheese? Or how to carry 9 empty cups out of a room in one trip? Or- “

“Okay, okay!” Robin interjects. “Alright. I will help you. Where do we start?”

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

You were pretty sure at this point that Steve was coming to see you, not the art. You started to dress up a bit for your shifts; dress to impress, right?

Another week or so passed before Steve came back. You smiled the moment he came through the door, and he shared one back, approaching you quickly.

“Learn anything new?” you ask, subconsciously adjusting your hair.

“I learned how Pollock changed the entire trajectory of American art.”

“Oh?” you ask, shocked. “Last week you came in here and mispronounced Monet, now you’re talking about Pollock’s impact?”

“A man can change,” he says with a smile. Then he leans down, onto the desk, becoming eye level with you. You can feel your breath hitch in your throat, a blush creeping up. You noticed a lot from this new angle: the smell of his cologne, rich and woodsy; the scar above his right eyebrow; the golden flecks in his dark eyes.

“And that’s not all,” he whispers. You blink, inclining your head, expecting an answer.

Finally, he says, “I know about Picasso, too.”

He straightens up, a victorious smile crossing his face. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, clearing your throat.

“Wow,” you laugh. “Color me impressed.”

“Yeah, I don’t mean to brag or anything, but uh,” he looks around before continuing, “I also know about Kandinsky.”

“I’m so proud, Steve.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but a few more people walk in, getting in line behind him.

“We’ll talk soon,” he says, giving you a warm smile before walking away. You watch him disappear around the bend; a smile plastered on your face.

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

The week after that, you have a shift with one of your coworkers. It was always nice to have company, but on a slow day like this one, it seemed pointless. To pass the time, you both talk. You decided to tell her about Steve, about how cute he was, about how wholesome you thought he was.

“I mean, this guy doesn’t know anything about art. But each week he comes back to learn a little bit more. Isn’t that cute?”

“Is this why you’ve been dressing up the past few weeks?” she asks. You roll your eyes.

“You should really see him. He is so damn-“

As if on cue, Steve enters the building. You can’t help but notice how good he looks in his red tee, how toned his arms are, how his jeans hug his legs…. You become acutely aware of how you were staring and quickly look away. He approaches the desk, tapping on it twice, smiling down at you.

“Hi Steve.”

“Hi Y/N.”

“Are you going to impress me this week?” you question.

“I thought maybe you could impress me,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Why don’t you tell me something?”

“Like what?”

He exhales. “I don’t know. Who’s your favorite artist? What’s your favorite work here?”

“Oh, that’s too much to get into,” you laugh, shifting in your chair.

“Why don’t you show me around?” His eyes are suddenly bright and eager, and he bounces nervously on his feet.

You stare up at him, slack jawed. You weren’t expecting the forwardness. “Well – I – I have to work. I don’t get off until-“

“I’ll cover your shift,” your coworker pipes up. You nearly forgot she was there.

You look back between her, and Steve, then back at her. Your mouth opens and shuts, a protest dying on your lips. Yes, you wanted to; but you suddenly felt self-conscious and silly. You really weren’t expecting this, not today, not ever. A boy like Steve wanting to know you seemed unreal. Is this even ethical? Are you allowed to show a visitor around? One that you’re definitely attracted to? That you have been flirting with for, what, literally five weeks?

Fuck it, you decide. You can’t mess this opportunity up. Standing (shakily), you tell your coworker that you’ll be back before closing, and meet Steve on the other side of the desk.

“I figure that you know a bit about me, so I wanted to know more about you,” he says quickly as you both walk towards the first gallery. You could sense he was nervous, too. “I hope that’s not weird.”

“It’s not,” you beam, trying to shake off your apprehension. “Come on. I’ll show you my favorites.”

And so you walk around the galleries, pointing out the different works you like. As time passes, you both relax. Steve took it all in, asking questions when appropriate, seeming genuinely interested in your observations. You make him talk to you about the ones he likes, too. You laugh when he points out a Monet, pronouncing it correctly this time. You are both laughing, talking, trying to get to know each other in the short amount of time you have before the museum closes. It feels natural, like you’ve known him for years.

At the last gallery, you reach your favorite work in the galleries. A couple, caught in a kiss, in a crowded subway.

“This one is perfect to me,” you say. “It makes me feel so many things.”

“What’s your favorite part about it?” Steve inquires.

“The atmosphere,” you answer, “and the way those two interact. It’s like they are the only people in the world. Among the chaos of a busy subway, they only notice each other.” You smile sadly. “Have you ever felt that with anyone?”

Steve thinks for a minute. He wishes he could say yes, with Nancy. But even at their best, he never felt the stillness and calm the figures in the painting did.

“No,” he replies eventually. “Have you?”

“No,” you whisper. “Not once.”

There’s a comfortable quietness and peace between you two as you both stare at it a little longer. After a while, Steve clears his throat.

“Well, do you want to try?”

You look over at him, bewildered. He continues to look at the painting; you notice his brows slightly furrowed and his fingers tapping on his thighs. He finally looks over at you and smiles weakly.

“Try what?”

“This,” he responds, gesturing to the painting. “You and I. Chaos. Peace. Do you want to try?”

Your heart swells, a smile spreading over your face as quickly as oil on canvas. You gently take his hand, turning to face him.

“What are you doing tonight?” you inquire.

“Nothing,” he breathes. “What are you doing?”

“Letting you take me to that Italian place on the corner.”

He smiles widely, relief and confidence soaring through him. Finally, he thinks. You didn’t fuck this one up.  

“It’s a date.”

[iaintyourbro]

Mental Gymnastics and the Sanity Question

I wrote this on June 2, 2020 and put it in my drafts. I don’t think I was brave enough to post this because it states how I really feel about things and at times that can be met with resistance. Almost three months later, after more research, talking to others in the fandom, and putting everything together, I’m going to share it now. I also know how to properly add pictures in a post so I’m gonna do that too.

Obviously, this is my opinion on it. Clearly from a fandom perspective, I love Cloud and Tifa as a couple. However, I’m ultimately a “canon-y” person. I do not ship couples without knowing the whole story. I ship after I know what happens. FFVII’s OG... I wasn’t too invested in, so I didn’t really do anything with fandom. I was online for FFVIII, Xenogears, and Gundam Wing. Anything FFVII related was Vincent related. 

***

Oh shipping, something I learned about recently. As a person who played FFVII at the age of 12 (well, started it) and then actually completed the game at around 13 or 14, the bulk of it went over my head. FFVIII was a clear cut romance, and probably why it was my favorite FF for 20 years. That being said, FFVII does have an ending, and does have a pretty clear relationship build between two of the characters. That’s then followed through in the additional media for the compilation. 

So why is there a fight? I honestly don’t know, and this post isn’t going to answer your questions, probably. I am going to give my opinion on why there is a fight, but I’m not a psychologist. This is how I personally feel about the entire FFVII shipping war and the impact it has on people - especially during the COVID quarantine in many areas. 

I played FF7R and was pleasantly surprised. I actually was scared to play it - scared it would change something I enjoyed as a teen. I was one that hoped for a 1 to 1 remake to keep the story solid. The reality is... the OG story is bare bones, which is why they ended up putting out multiple other pieces in the form of games, books, and movies. This bare bones story seemed to also create a war on who our protagonist loves. You realize how bare bones it is after playing the remake. 

That’s not to say it’s not a good game or good story. The OG is a fantastic game. It’s a fantastic story. It has the same issues every other RPG has where it has major gaps in the plot due to timing, money, whatever. The difference I’d say with FFVII and the others is the story is MUCH MORE COMPLEX and MUCH MORE MATURE. The closest I’d say is Xenogears, which literally was cut short due to time and money. FFVII and Xenogears also share a lot of similar themes, which makes a lot of sense when you know the “scrapped” FFVII ideas were repurposed. 

Most of us were kids or young teens when that game came out. We probably played it and understood about 60% of what was going on. We remember Cloud cross-dressing, we remember Aerith dying, and we remember Sephiroth. (And if you’re me you remember Vincent.)

The first part of the game, you’re given multiple choices on how to respond to things. This ends up being part of a “date mechanic” later on in the game. Feels like you have control, right? You’re the one who is going to determine who Cloud gets to date at the Gold Saucer! Who his life partner is! 

Wrong. 

Yeah, you make choices and it does determine who you go on a date with. However, you find out much later in the game that Cloud isn’t really Cloud. There are multiple hints early in the game that something isn’t right. It builds up until you literally see a ghostly figure of child Cloud standing there as Cloud beats the crap out of Aerith and gives the Black Materia to Sephiroth. Cloud hears voices during multiple scenes in the game, but meh, whatever. Seeing his child form, though, you’re like UM OKAY. 

So, you build up your relationship with Aerith. You say all the right things. You get the date with her, she says she wants to meet you. Then you go to the Temple of the Ancients, a cute little part with Cait Sith giving a fortune that you and her are meant to be... and about 10 minutes later you beat the living shit out of her and hand over the Black Materia to the enemy. 

At this point, you realize something is seriously wrong. Aerith disappears. The next time you see her, she dies. 

Then the focus is only on getting Sephiroth. Not just because of Aerith, but Cloud is being summoned by him - you just don’t know that until you get there. Cloud realizes that he wasn’t pursuing Sephiroth, he was being pulled to him. I mean, Aerith dies and isn’t mentioned for quite some time. There isn’t any point after she floats down that they really mourn. They go snowboarding and go after Sephiroth. 

Then Cloud completely breaks... when TIFA questions what she remembers and can’t give Cloud a clear answer. And this may come as a shock to somebody who was trying to woo Aerith. Why does Tifa matter so much? Cloud didn’t break due to Aerith dying, Cloud broke because Tifa didn’t know how to tell him that he wasn’t in Nibelheim 5 years ago (that she knew of). 

They don’t really build the relationship up between Cloud and Tifa until pretty much after this point. They talk about the Promise, they talk about some other quirks, they infer that Tifa has a crush on Cloud. 

You really aren’t aware that Cloud has a crush on Tifa until The Lifestream, when IT ALL COMES OUT. To be fair, Cloud didn’t show romantic interest to either girl in OG prior to the Northern Crater, honestly. More so until the Lifestream.

The Crisis of Losing Control 

You also lose the ability to make choices at this point in the game. 

During the first part, you are acting almost as Cloud’s false persona. The cool SOLDIER Cloud that makes nice or nasty choices towards other characters. You determine, to an extent, how Cloud is. But it’s an illusion. 

And Aerith tells us this in the Remake - that whatever you’re feeling now isn’t real. This isn’t a love confession, this is a warning. If you played the OG, you know she’s referring to his false persona.

The reason I think this gets so heated is because of the loss of control, the feeling of betrayal that the one you thought was supposed to be the one is gone, and all along Cloud held deep feelings for Tifa. You’re also probably young and inexperienced when this happens. The romantic notion of Romeo and Juliet, if you will. 

I think it also depends on how you deal with Aerith’s death. Personally, it wasn’t a huge deal to me. I was like damn did that just happen? I wouldn’t say I was sad, though, or upset. More shocked? Sadly at this point in my life, I’d already lost family members, and moving on is very important. I also didn’t notice Cloud doing ANYTHING romantic in the OG. It felt one sided all around until much, much later on. So I didn’t see it as Cloud losing the love of his life. I actually had no idea why he was upset except they were friends. 

There’s a clear end to the potential romance between Cloud and Aerith - she dies. Now in the world of FFVII, Aerith is a Cetra and has the ability to communicate with the planet and apparently those that are still living once she dies. However, that doesn’t mean that Cloud is going to pursue a relationship with her... that is... crazy, right? 

Apparently.. Not? 

This is where I start having an issue with shipping. The story clearly shows that Aerith dies. The story clearly shows that Cloud harbors deep feelings for Tifa during the Lifestream scene. Both of these events are set - there are no alternatives, no optional scenes. At no point during the Lifestream is anybody else mentioned as a romantic interest. Tifa dominates this guy’s subconscious. But to some, there does seem to be an alternative.

The most extreme I’ve seen is that Cloud should kill himself to be with Aerith. This is disturbing on so many levels, so I’m not going to talk about it much. This not only misses the point of one of the big themes in FFVII, but also just shows how desperate people are to get what they want.

The other is that Cloud actually only loves Aerith and Tifa was his living rebound. The story doesn’t support this. Watch the Lifestream scene and it’s obvious. Once again, we have no mention of anybody else during this. 

The mental gymnastics it takes to put Cloud and Aerith together as the canon couple blows my mind. 

***

And that’s where I stopped. I had noticed at the time there was major pushback on anybody who denied romance between Cloud and Aerith. I guess I just wasn’t ready to deal with it nor did I have the confidence I suppose. Now I’m confident in that after three months of observing, learning, and contemplating.

So I’ll finish with a few thoughts because apparently in fandom land three months is a long time.

COVID-19 Quarantine

The majority of the world went under quarantine earlier this year due to the COVID-19 pandemic. Personally, the last time I saw my cubicle was March 9. Not that I’m sad, because I do enjoy working remotely. But it’s not just my cubicle, restaurants, zoos, everything was shut down and is slowly opening up but I’m not exactly keen on going somewhere unless I absolutely have to. 

This gave me a ton of time to do other things. FFVII Remake came out, so I played that and, yeah, I got really obsessed and went into this depressed void of what the fuck am I going to do until the next part comes out? Hello, online fandom. Hello, insanity. 

I’ve learned that the FFVII online fandom - specifically the shipping fandom - is crazy in good and bad ways. This, of course, was reignited by the Remake’s release, but most likely really amplified due to people being under quarantine. This is an escape from reality for a while. An escape from the constant depressing news cycle.

Before I discovered fandom I was obsessed with COVID-19 information. I watched all kinds of new broadcasts, Dr. Fauci, random people on YouTube, and it was overwhelming after a while. Remake saved me from that. I played Remake before I went into fandom. I played it as a non-shipper. I was slammed in the face with how amazing they portrayed Cloud and Tifa. 

Self Insertion

The other piece that seems to be apparent in angry shippers is the idea of self insertion. This simply means that you put yourself in the place of the character, so you begin to take things personally. If a person self inserts as Cloud, and their personal preference is Aerith, they become angry when Aerith dies and we find out who Cloud TRULY loves. If somebody self inserts as Aerith, they’re upset that they were never a real love interest. 

Most people go “oh okay, I see.” and move on and/or move to fanon if they truly wanted those two together. 

Then there’s the people who, for 20+ years, spread false information, attack, stalk, and go ballistic anytime there’s any type of evidence that they were wrong. 

The Big Ego

Nobody likes being wrong. FFVII has a major twist in it that causes you to go into a daze, and I do think they do a great job with that. Aerith isn’t it. Her death isn’t the big twist. It’s Cloud that’s the big twist. Going through the Lifestream (and even prior at the Northern Crater) reveals like ohhh shiitttt everything you know about Cloud is a lie.

And he even tells us it’s an illusion. Imagine that?

I am very strongly swayed by evidence from official resources. I suppose I take a scientific approach to this. I cannot find canon evidence that Cloud ever held any romantic feelings towards Aerith. Therefore, to me, Cloud never held any romantic feelings for anyone but Tifa because that’s what the game and resources tell us. 

Luckily, the Remake is making things clear. The devs are being more direct when answering questions. 

There was never supposed to be ambiguity or “player choice”. The fact that you lose player choice at one point and there are fixed events in the game (The Lifestream) that cannot be changed should have been evidence enough. The fact that there are not multiple endings should have been a clue. 

With all of this being said, it shouldn’t matter what I say if you want to ship a fanon ship. I do not see any romance between Cloud and Aerith and I never have. There is no supporting evidence of it. I generally am boring - I don’t try to fanon too much stuff that I have other evidence for. I’ll do it in jest. 

My opinion on Cloud and Aerith in general is I don’t think they work or ever could work. That shouldn’t stop you from enjoying the ship. You cannot claim canon on a ship though unless there’s evidence. There’s way too much twisting, lying, and deletion to justify certain ships. This is one of them.

[eleanor-devil]

Boruto: Sacrifices [Remade] | Chap.11 - Lost Hopes

Written by: Eleanor-Devil & @mirage-05​​

Prologue | Chap.1 | Chap.2 | Chap.3 | Chap.4 | Chap.5 | Chap.6 | Chap.7 | Chap.8 | Chap.9 | Chap. 10 | Chap.11 - You’re here

Sarada was counting in her head as her father continued his brisk pace. They were almost out of the hospital building, she could see Boruto in the Hokage's arms in front of them... "Papa..." she whispered, her voice tight and low with the sobs, tears still sliding down her cheeks. "It's been a minute and a half... P-please, let's just turn back..." Her voice became tinier then. "I need to know..." she couldn't finish her sentence, but still, Sasuke didn't stop. "Papa..." Sarada said again, becoming almost hysterical. "Please, I-I'm begging you... We need to be with him..." "Your mother is with him." That was all Sasuke told her as he continued walking away from there.

"No! Papa please!" Sarada squeezed her eyes shut as she kicked her legs, trying to release her body from her father's grip. And then she felt it, fresh and cold air hitting her straight in the face, causing her hair to fly. Feeling a new source of power from his daughter, and quite confused by this, Sasuke looked up at her, slightly frowning. What he saw made his eyes slightly widen. An intricate flowery shape in the place of her irises... He indeed almost came to a stop. No, this was too early... Once they reached outside, he put her down but still held her tightly by her shoulder, making sure she didn't run back inside as soon as he let her go. "Papa please let me go!" yelled the girl. "Sarada, you need to calm down," he replied in his calm voice, even though he was too worried about what he had seen. "How?! How can I calm down!? He is in there, he is dying!" "Your mother and the medics are doing everything they can. Even if you were in there, there is nothing you can do." "I don't care!" the girl screamed, shaking uncontrollably. "He needs us!" "There is nothing you can do." the man said once again, firmly. "You will stay right here until there is something new from the inside. It's all up to him now, you being inside or throwing a tantrum is not going to change the outcome. Calm down." Boruto was still subconsciously gripping his father's clothes as he cried his heart out, the images of what he had just witnessed wouldn't leave his mind, he didn't think it would disappear so soon... Mitsuki's hand trying to hold his own, his last words, how his head dropped to a side and his hand slipped away... All of it only made the younger blond grip Naruto's clothes tighter. He heard all of Sarada's and his master's discussion and he wanted to say something too, agree with his childhood friend, but words weren't forming. Naruto was holding him tightly, caressing his hair gently, not saying anything. He was holding his careful control in place for both of the kids' sake, to keep his worries and sadness inside, he knew he had to just trust Sakura and Tsunade... And Mitsuki... he would make it... he was a strong boy, he would make it... "Take it back..." he heard Boruto mumble in between his sobs. He didn't remember the last time his son had a complete breakdown like this. "Take it back, take it back... I-I can't... Take these three days back..." The boy's hand gripped his clothes harder as sobs continuously rocked through his body. Naruto stopped caressing his son's blond locks, lighter than his own, and he just stayed there with his hand resting against his head. The Hokage closed his eyes tightly at his son's plea... "I wish I could... believe me, I would go back if I could..." But he couldn't, and the harsh, cold reality was right there before his eyes... Mitsuki was dying and Naruto could only pray that he would make it. It hurt... it hurt him so badly, not just to see a child's life slip away like this but a child that he knew, that was close and important to his son, a child that just a few days ago was alive and well... He didn't even know how the boy had taken his words to his heart... How he considered them a second family... How much didn't he know about Mitsuki...? "Dad..." Boruto looked up at him. "Please... please go back inside... I can't leave him... I need to be by his side... Please... I promised..." The boy couldn't complete his sentence as he once again snuggled closer to his father, his crying muffled as he buried his face in Naruto's chest. Naruto returned to caress Boruto's hair, in hopes it would calm him down, like he and Hinata did when he was younger. "We will go back when your aunt Sakura says it's good okay...?" But Boruto just shook his head, he didn't want later, he wanted now... Naruto glanced at Sasuke and Sarada, she seemed to be rather calm but still crying. He noticed her irises were red... sharingan? No... there was something different... it couldn't be... 'Mangekyou Sharingan...!?' Naruto was shocked... she was barely thirteen...! His mind was reeling... He wanted, needed to ask so much to Sasuke... but this wasn't the time... "I'm going to come back and take you when your mother says you can see him." The older Uchiha was saying. "I promise..." Then Sasuke inched his head slightly up, his eyes moving to Naruto. It was clear in his eyes - he needed to be inside... With Orochimaru there, they couldn't afford any mistakes... Naruto gulped and nodded to him, telling him silently that this was under his control. As his friend rushed back inside, he approached the girl and kneeled down to her level, hugging her with his free arm. "Three minutes..." Sarada whispered, snuggling closer. "Lord Seventh... why don't they say anything...?" Naruto closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again and looking at the hospital's entrance where his friend had just disappeared into. "I wish I knew Sarada... but we can only wait... and pray..." It had taken a while, but both the children eventually calmed down a little and pushed themselves gently away from the Hokage. They were too restless to stay put, they started pacing around. At least they didn't try to run back to the building... A soft, calm drop on his nose made the man do a double take and he looked up... just in time to see a small leaf drifting through the air, landing just before his feet. Then tiny drops started to fall as a light rain began. Naruto's heart skipped a beat... Boruto stopped abruptly, gazing at the sky, tiny drops landing on his face. "Mitsuki...?" he whispered, so soft that it was almost inaudible. No... it wasn't... it couldn't be the meaning of that... it was just a coincidence, right...? Naruto wanted to believe that...but it was so hard considering the situation. A distant sound echoed through the clouds, the thunders. Just as a second thunder echoed, Naruto heard paces coming from inside to the outside of the hospital. And he looked up to see a fit of short pink hair. His heart jumped to his throat, and before he knew it, he had met her halfway. Sakura looked very worn out, her hands shaking and her eyes brimming with tears as she approached him quickly, not quite meeting his eyes. 'Please... no...' Naruto thought, his breath getting caught as he tried to suppress a sob. "Sakura-chan..." he said, his voice so weak that it barely even reached his own ears. Sakura quickly looked towards the kids, who Naruto then realized that haven't followed him, maybe because of how they were still too shocked to move - or comprehend. Sakura took in a shaky breath, and finally met his eyes as a lone tear slid down from her eye. "It was close..." she whispered, her voice tired and strained. "Very, very close... Oh, god..." As his friend started crying softly, Naruto felt part of the weight from his heart lift and literally sagged, shedding a tear himself, realizing how grateful he was that he didn't need to explain to his son and Sarada that their best friend couldn't make it. "Please... tell me that you beat the shit out of the bastards who could do this to a child," Sakura choked out. "He is fighting... He is stubborn, thank god, I will give him that, but... His heart has become so weak, even Tsunade-sama can't tell for sure if he's out of the risk zone yet." "Is he...?" the blond began, but wasn't sure how to continue it. "We got his heart beating again, but he drifted into a coma by the time we stabilized him," Sakura said sadly, and heard her friend gasp. "In a way it is better, because he needs the time to get his body to heal itself - we were actually considering keeping him in a drug-induced coma if everything went smoothly. But now... We don't have any control over when he will wake up." Sakura hesitated for a second before slowly adding. "If... he will wake up." "No..." Naruto mumbled softly, feeling like his heart was breaking into pieces. His friend put a hand to his arm, and glanced briefly at Boruto and Sarada over his shoulder. "You need to talk to them." "Leave the hardest part to me, why won't you?" Naruto mumbled brokenly. A bitter smile, one without any kind of humor, flashed on Sakura's face for the briefest of seconds. "I need to get back in. Try to ease it up to them..." As the med-nin turned her back to go, the blond tried not to let the heaviness in his heart weigh him down. A coma... A dark, endless stretch of space where they probably had no means to reach Mitsuki... A kid, who was at the very beginning of his life... How did it all come to this?... He turned his back, and almost bumped into Boruto, who was running to him, Sarada close behind. Boruto looked at his father with huge eyes, his breathing hitched to the point of hyperventilation. "Dad...?" he asked in a small, fearful voice that didn't belong to him. "Is Mitsuki...?" Sarada couldn't finish her sentence. Naruto gulped once, then looked at them squarely in the eyes. "I'm sorry, but..." "N... no... NO!" Boruto screamed immediately, staggering back a couple of steps, shaking his head fervently as tears streamed freely down his cheeks. "He didn't... He couldn't..." Sarada choked, as her whole body began shaking with unsuppressed sobs. "He didn't die, he didn't DARE do this to us, he promised!" "Why couldn't we be there, too? Why didn't we help him?" the young Uchiha mumbled in shock, in a high-pitched, monotonic voice. "It won't happen next time... We won't make the same mistake next time..." "Boruto... Sarada..." Naruto tried to intervene. "I'm gonna kill him!" Boruto continued, not even hearing his father. "Just... just wait until he decides to wake up, he is gonna pay for putting us through this! What gave him the right?" Both Boruto and Sarada came to a stop when they felt the Hokage's hands clasping on their shoulders. "I'm sorry," Naruto whispered, and the pain in his voice made both of them look up. The hokage's usually bright blue eyes seemed to have taken on a dark and stormy quality as he looked at them, trying to keep it together. Kneeling in front of them, Naruto pulled them in a hug, as Boruto and Sarada kept crying, their mumbling becoming unintelligible through the sobs. "Mitsuki is saved." he whispered, drawing them closer and rubbing their heads. Boruto's eyes widened, and he pulled himself a little away to look at his dad. "He is...?" Naruto gulped and nodded, trying to choose the right words this time. "He is... But..." "But...?" Sarada asked, also pulling herself away a little. "Sakura-chan said that they did everything they could, but... Mitsuki fell into a deep coma... And due to the severity of his wounds, it is unknown when he will wake up..." He paused for a moment, then sighed. "They... they don't even know if he will wake up..." He felt his son stiffen. "No... no..." Boruto pushed against Naruto with all his might, and the latter let him go this time. "You're lying! H - he... No..." With that, Boruto and Sarada sprinted toward the doors. Everything else was just a blur, the people they passed by turning to look at them, their voices jumbling together... Shikadai looked up from the place he had slouched down, wheezing, as he heard hurried footsteps approaching. His mind in automatic drive, he just sprang up on his feet and followed his friends into the room, his vision almost blinded with an odd sort of blur. He almost ran into Boruto as the blond and Sarada abruptly stopped just inside the room. Mitsuki... was sitting upright on the bed... as he heard them enter, he turned to look towards the doorway, and the confused look on his face turned into a full, heart-warming grin, one that they often see him wearing. "Boruto... Sarada..." he mused, so softly that they couldn't be sure if it was a trick their senses were playing on them. As his ears finally picked another quiet, rhythmic sound, Boruto made the mistake of blinking. He heard Sarada gasp beside him. His friend was lying on the bed, and if he didn't know exactly that this was his room, he might have had trouble recognizing him. There were even more bandages, so much so that if Mitsuki was awake, Boruto would have teased him about turning into a mummy. He was also connected to so many machines that the blond couldn't help but think... that the machines did the basic task of surviving for his best friend. And survival... was one thing Konohamaru platoon never failed before. Sarada brought both her hands to her mouth at the broken sight of her friend as she started reliving the horrors of a few minutes ago. "No..." she whimpered before her legs gave way, and she crumpled to the floor, sobbing hardly as she brought her arms to hug herself, her head hanging low. Boruto slowly took a couple of steps towards the bed, his eyes huge as he practically drank in Mitsuki's unmoving form, hearing the dull echo of the proof that the younger boy's heart was doing its proper job. He stopped, now he was right beside the bed. Surely Mitsuki would hear him? And if he heard him, surely he would respond, too? He raised his arms slowly, grabbed his friend's arm as gently as he could, and gave him a slight shake. "H... hey... Mitsuki..." he heard his voice. Or, at least, he assumed it was his voice, though it didn't sound like him at all. "Come on... Stop joking..." he whispered in the same stranger tone, and a shaky, bitter smile made its way to his face. His friend would respond in a way... right? "You... you got us... Come on..." His voice broke as a sob shook his frame. "Open your eyes..." he mused, almost pleadingly. "I... I p-promise I won't be mad..." Just for once... "Mitsuki...?" he said weakly, hanging on the last threads of hope. There was no response. Only Sarada's soft crying and the steady beeping reached his ears as he continued to gaze at the blue-haired boy's unmoving form, his closed eyes... Boruto fell on his knees by the bed, holding onto Mitsuki's hand as if for dear life as he started crying his heart out… Having no more words, none of his brilliance to offer, the young Nara just slumped against the wall behind him and slid down, bringing his knees up to his chest, just… existing in the moment. … Naruto had barely caught up to his son, Boruto could indeed act very quick when he put his mind to it. He came to a staggering stop when he reached the glass panel, watching as his son and Sarada completely broke down by the child who loved them so much, the child who had been a normal kid just a couple of days ago... He put his left arm on the glass, leaning a bit over it and putting his forehead on it as he brought his right hand to his mouth. "Oh god..." he whispered, broken... It was not easy... But he had to remember that he had another task. He peeled his eyes away from the room and turned back, carefully avoiding everyone's gaze but Kakashi's. "I'm going to the office to oversee the interrogations," he declared and felt all eyes turning to him. He knew he wasn't going to be able to rest, not until he at least made sure that those scoundrels who did this to Mitsuki were adequately punished. Kakashi nodded, without looking away from the room. "I'm coming with you." … Just as they walked out of the building, the blond immediately spotted a tall, black haired man waiting for them. Orochimaru straightened from where he was leaning against the wall, gazing at them with a cold, insatiable fury. "I am coming with you, too." That made both of the men hesitate for a second. "That... might not be the best idea..." Naruto finally said, regarding the man warily. "That was not a request. That is my son those low-lifes very nearly killed, I am the one who should be handling them." "We don't need man-slaughter now. We need answers..." "Then I suggest you better be quick with them. Konoha already tested my patience to the limit. I assure you that you will not be spared more of it." The Hokage just looked at him for a minute, trying to negotiate his way around this. "You will not lay a hand on the prisoners." "As long as they have reason to breathe." "Not at any time. They will receive the punishment they deserve by law, not by the hand of an individual." "Do not push my limits." the sannin said, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "These are our terms." Kakashi cut in. "You are in Konoha under a different identity, and we won't allow you to blow it and thrust the village in chaos." "That wouldn't even be close to what you deserve." the older man spat. "But I'm not gonna stand here and waste any more time. Your terms apply - for now." Naruto gulped inconspicuously and nodded, leading the way as their haste erased the necessity of talk between them. ... His actions weren't conscious. He was just treading down the same road he used every day, a familiar route to him already, something his mind automatically tracked. "Naruto...?" he heard Kurama calling for him inside his head, but he tuned him out for now. His rage, his unquenchable anger kept his pace brisk and unfaltering. Images... the kid's voice... They kept replaying in his head... 'But lord seventh... I consider you family, too...' The one last smile Mitsuki gave to him before he walked out... 'Let me protect my family...' The time they found him, covered in blood, fighting to stay alive... 'Thank you... for everything you did...' Boruto and Sarada, screaming for the child to come back... Naruto burst through the doors of the office building, and once again let his mind take control as he stormed to the interrogation rooms. He vaguely registered Shikamaru's face. "We were waiting for... Naruto??" the man exclaimed in shock, seeing the expression on his face. He was soon followed by a black haired man, that Shikamaru was almost sure he didn't know at all, even though he was wearing a Konoha headband, and Kakashi. It was clear that the Hokage was pissed off as he nearly jumped on one of the ninjas being interrogated, grabbing him by his collar and lifting him up as he pushed him against the wall. It was only then that Shikamaru snapped out of it and quickly worked his jutsu. "Naruto, calm down!" he shouted, though he couldn't help but wonder... what could have happened to make the hokage this aggravated? Kurama had only said that Mitsuki was attacked out of Konoha... "Let... me... go... Shikamaru..." Somewhere along his blinding rage, Naruto suddenly became aware of the fact that he should tell his advisor of what Shikadai witnessed tonight. It didn’t help much to calm his nerves. "I don't want to take it out on you." "You losing your head is not gonna get us answers," Sai came next to them and put his hand on the Hokage’s shoulder. "Let us deal with this." Meanwhile, Kakashi was having a hard time trying to hold back Orochimaru, mainly because he himself couldn’t care less if the two rogue nins inside were given a slow and painful death. "You don't want to drop your disguise." he said in a decidedly calm manner, only for the sannin to hear. "You do not know what I want..." hissed the sannin in a low tone as well, his eyes glimmering with hate and rage. He wanted nothing more but to rip apart those two ninjas inside the interrogation room... just like he had done with their leader... rip them apart... slowly and painfully until they begged and cried for mercy... Make them bleed, just like they had done with his son... Kakashi's hard look took on a sad, haunting quality. "Don't worry. They are going to get what they deserve." "Nothing you will ever do will be what they deserve...!" Orochimaru hissed through gritted teeth and... Kakashi actually felt the loneliness, the fear that was hidden deep, deep inside... Something the sannin would never, ever show... 'How much did you change... Orochimaru...?' he wondered to himself. "Let me go, Shikamaru!" They heard Naruto once again yell from inside the interrogation room. "Not until you let him go and calm down!" countered Shikamaru. "What the HELL did you want from a child, you bastards?!" Naruto yelled to the man's face. "How could you beat a thirteen-year-old to death?! What the FUCK did you want?!?" His voice ringed in the suddenly very silent room. After a moment of silence, one of the rogue nins actually spoke. "Did... the child... die...?" he murmured in a hushed voice. Naruto turned to the source of the voice; Hiraku, with even angrier eyes. "Why do you even care?!" "It's not our fault that the kid attacked us first! We simply defended ourselves!" said the rogue ninja that was being hung by Naruto's hands. Although unlike Hiraku, there was no hint of sadness or regret for the nearly dead child... There was actually a smirk forming on his face. "The kid only got what he asked for..." That was the very last straw. Naruto had not realized that Shikamaru had momentarily dropped the shadow mimic technique in shock, but he did when his fist connected with a satisfying thump to the face of this sorry excuse of a human being. Takeru actually lost his balance and tumbled to the floor, but the hokage grabbed him by his collar and slammed him against the wall hard, fire burning in his eyes. "You bastard..." he hissed, so angry that he was practically shaking. "I dare you to tell one more lie, and I swear YOU will get what you ask for." The smirk was still there. "Go ahead, kill me." he said. Getting killed would be an easier way than having to face the wrath of the kid's father, who was none other than one of the feared creatures on the planet, if not the most feared. "Lord Seventh," Ibiki approached him with a serious look. "This is exactly what scum like that wants, do not lower yourself to their level." "We... were after you." As the second nin decided to speak once again, all their eyes turned to him. Hiraku was looking directly at the hokage. "Excuse me?" Naruto spat, turning his attention to the other man. "You blubbering idiot!" Takeru hissed angrily, his smirk replaced by a look of disgust. Hiraku paid no attention to him as he continued to address Naruto. "Our purpose was to stage an assassination attempt." "Why? Why didn't you seek me out of the village then?" Naruto's voice rose as he stepped towards Hiraku. "Takeru is telling the truth. When we were close to the border... That kid stopped us." "Tch... that little brat ruined our plans and paid the price... that's how the ninja world works, all decisions come with a price." Ibiki put his hand on Naruto's arm and slowly managed to let the Hokage drop Takeru, only to take his place and grab the rogue ninja by the collar one more time. "Leave this to us." Naruto was speechless - both from his blinding anger and... because of what he just learned. Between Hiraku's blunt sincerity and Takeru's disgusting remarks, he now realized that... What they were telling... might very well be the truth... He felt a lump forming in his throat... Did Mitsuki really nearly lose his life... to protect him, as well as the village...? "Ryu will get everything out of them, down to what they ate for breakfast,” Sai’s voice was almost unemotional, but there was a scary quality in his gaze directed to the rogue ninjas. Naruto nodded, a fire burning in his throat. "Sai, Ibiki... You have my authorization to not hold back... at all." The two men nodded, accepting the orders gladly. Naruto made his way out of the interrogation room, clearly disturbed by the recent news, something that everyone including Kakashi and Orochimaru noticed. With Naruto's leave and the door of the interrogation room closing once again, Kakashi let go of the Sannin's clothes. … It was an hour before more news reached them. The office had become more crowded by the time; Kiba, Sasuke and Konohamaru arriving along with a number of other ninjas who had heard the attack. Even though the office was filled with people, silence reigned supreme aside from the occasional whispered discussion. Naruto had indeed watched the first half of Hiraku's interrogation - many people, especially Sai and Ibiki urged him not to interfere with Takeru's. He could hear shouting and a lot of slamming from inside there. He honestly hoped that when he next saw him, that bastard would be within an inch to his worthless life. Hiraku, on the other hand, had been pretty cooperative, giving easy and efficient answers to the questions. The more he watched him... the more Naruto realized what he had seen in the man earlier... was indeed regret. He felt like scum for ever hunting the boy... For even, as he confessed, stabbing him with his own sword... He was honest... But that wasn't enough. There were still missing pieces of the puzzle, to which the blond man agreed himself, telling them that because of his... weakness, as per say... he was sometimes kept in shadows by his squad members. It was then that those who were at the hospital arrived, and it took the joint strength of three ninjas to stop an agitated Konohamaru from storming into the rooms. He had caught a glimpse of Takeru, though, who in turn... had just smirked and looked away. The brunet had then broken hold of those who were holding him, rushed into the room, and punched the smirk out of his face. "I'm going to kill you bastards!" he had yelled before Ibiki himself and another bulky jounin had to restrain him. "You are going to pay dearly for what you did!" Takeru had wiped the blood trailing down from his mouth, not even fazed a little. "Sheesh, if you were gonna get so wired up about this, why didn't anyone come and help the child? It wasn't like we were keeping it down..." "I swear, keep this attitude and I'll chop you to pieces and feed all the remains to the dogs!" Ibiki had snarled, already having enough of this man. "Wait, what is that supposed to mean?!" Naruto had cut in. "What are you not telling us?! We didn't hear anything!" "We didn't move all night," the man said with malicious glee. "You practically left that kid to die." It had been hard, but finally they managed to get Konohamaru out of there. A knock on his door brought him out of his thoughts. The door opened to reveal the young Yamanaka, who bowed when he entered the room. "Lord Hokage..." he said, raising his head to meet his eyes. The sad, haunting look etched in them made Naruto do a double take. "What did you find out?" he asked in a low voice, carefully in control of his emotions. "Ex-excuse me for this, but... I would like a moment before I start?" Words stuck in his throat, all the blond could do was nod. After a couple of minutes and a glass of water, Ryu slowly raised his head again. "Forgive me, my lord... But what I witnessed..." "Tell me everything, all the smallest details." "That child... I never saw another kid like him." the man sighed before closing his eyes and shaking his head. "Those ninjas spotted him next to the river but didn't attack immediately... They, uh... waited... for his reaction." "Reaction? To what?" Naruto demanded, eyebrows furrowed. Ryu just gazed at him, his expression sadder. "They goaded him - talked about how they were planning to kill you and ravage the village - until Mitsuki took the first move. And then they stroke back... That Takeru... he was the first to notice they were fighting a child... Him and Goro - their leader - they decided to keep on the assault... Kill the child there, so he wouldn't rush back to the village and ruin their plan..." "God dammit!" Naruto was on his feet again, started pacing back and forth. "Why... why would he do that?! He had to know he couldn't win such a battle!" Ryu had no answer for that, but after a brief hesitation, the boy's sensei spoke up. "Because that's Mitsuki... He always cared for and protected those around him, that kid..." his shaky voice trailed off, then he looked at the Yamanaka. "And he probably didn't know the ninjas' elements?" Ryu nodded, a lump in his throat. "They toyed with him... Only using air and fire elements at first... Takeru and Goro attacked while the red haired man - Hideyoshi - kept shooting arrows in his direction - a sensory type by what I gathered. He and Hiraku, they... tried to help Mitsuki when they saw he was just a child, but Hideyoshi was incapacitated, and Hiraku didn't come in until the last second... Goro used his attack - the lightning charged blades he called Raiha - after Mitsuki took Takeru down..." "He did?" Those who were listening were impressed, despite themselves. "Yes... He fought good actually, almost at a jounin level, he took both Hideyoshi and Takeru out... But..." he trailed off again, his voice dropping down to a whisper. "They taunted him mercilessly about how he was alone, how no one was there for him... And topped with a technique he couldn't beat..." "Wait, go back," Naruto said, pinching his nose, trying to keep his voice level. "That bastard hinted at it, too... Why didn't we hear the child?" "Lord Seventh..." Ryu said, and sighed again. "There is this one key element here. Goro and Hiraku were powerful Kumo ninjas, true, but... they weren't the masterminds. Takeru, Hideyoshi and that woman... They were all from the Sound village, and they wanted to make a statement on behalf of their village against the peace treaty."

[clumsyclifford]

bella i’m just SAYING if you felt like writing boyfriend jalex in LA like they are rn why are they there just vibing together why is alex there i’m hella emo just saying i wouldn’t be MAD about it 😘

well PAIGE you may have been ONTO something here. alex is in LA because he loves his boy next question

read it here on ao3

-

Death By Hug is not a bad way to go, Jack thinks. It certainly beats Death By Loneliness.

The longer he and Alex stand here, the more Jack wonders if they really are going to die here, holding onto each other like Alex is a soldier returning from war and Jack is his lover who's been writing constantly to the front lines. Or something. It's also possible Jack has watched too many war movies lately.

"We gotta move," Alex finally mumbles. They’re at the gate and people are stepping around them.

"We don't have to."

"Well, I can't kiss you with a mask on."

That is a very good point. Jack squeezes Alex one last time and finally steps back.

Los Angeles looks good on Alex.

-

Supposedly, Alex is here to write. It's not like that's a lie; they are going to take advantage of Alex's presence and log as many studio hours as possible, but that still leaves a lot of early mornings and late nights unaccounted for. Well. For Jack it does. He knows Alex has been dying to get back in the studio, to put words to music in a way that sounds less like a kid messing around on his dad's guitar and more like a professional musician making demos. But if Jack has to pull Alex from the studio by force, he will. 

He will do his best. He is definitely not stronger than Alex but he will try.

For now, though, they have the evening to themselves.

Even with a suitcase, Alex looks right at home in Jack's place. "I'm gonna put my stuff in your room," he tells Jack, and Jack just nods.

"I'm gonna have some cereal," he decides, because he's in the mood for cereal and it is his right as a grown-ass man to eat cereal at all hours. Alex just laughs as he heads towards Jack's room, and Jack grins.

He heads for the kitchen and spends a minute deliberating over what cereal to have before yielding to the eternal power of Fruity Pebbles. They’re practically calling his name. Jack’s strong, but not that strong.

As he’s pouring the cereal into a cup, arms snake around his waist, squeezing tight.

“Hello, cereal boy,” says Alex, tucking his chin into Jack’s shoulder. “Mm, Fruity Pebbles for dinner. You’re the master of health.”

“Yes I am,” Jack says. “This is how they do it in L.A., Al.”

“Who exactly is ‘they’?”

“Me and Bree.”

Alex laughs. “Man, L.A. has really changed.”

“Maybe you should spend more time here.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Alex says. “Next global pandemic I’ll be sure to quarantine here with you.”

Jack shakes his head, smiling a little. “That’s all I want to hear. Do you want some cereal?”

“I was thinking we could order a pizza.”

“Oh, pizza,” Jack says, hesitating with his cup of cereal in hand. “Pizza sounds good.” He shrugs one shoulder. “I can have both.”

“You’re the weirdest person ever,” Alex says as Jack sets the cup down and turns around, forcing Alex to loosen his grip. The moment hits Jack full-force; it hadn’t really sunk in until now, but Alex is here. Here. In Los Angeles. With Jack.

Alex is here.

“I’m so fucking happy you’re here,” Jack says. Alex’s smile grows, the way it always does following any kind of emotion from Jack. It’s been weeks since Jack has seen that smile in person, weeks since Jack has seen Alex in person, and he’d forgotten how good it feels to be the reason for it.

FaceTime is good, but nothing is as good as the real thing.

“Well, I’m really fucking happy to be here,” Alex says, pulling Jack closer with the hands around his waist. “I’ve missed you.”

“Yes,” Jack says. “Same. Me too. I feel like I’m going to wake up any second.”

“What, and this will all be a dream?”

“Yes,” Jack says emphatically. It could be. He’s had similar dreams. Granted, he’s never eating Fruity Pebbles in any of them, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. 

“Me being here?” Alex asks, sliding his hands up Jack’s sides and chest to come to rest on his shoulders. “Or the whole pandemic?”

“I wish I could wake up and have the pandemic be a dream,” Jack huffs. “Or nightmare. Worst nightmare of my entire life.” He’s gotten a little bit off-track, but to be fair, Alex is being very distracting, what with the brushing noses and hands under the collar of his shirt and everything. Jack has yet to build up an immunity to Alex Gaskarth. This is something he has in common with the entire rest of the world.

Alex kisses him. Jack stops thinking about whatever it was he was thinking about. The important thing is that Alex is here and it’s not a dream, and Jack has Fruity Pebbles and his boyfriend and potentially pizza on the way and several hours of nothing at all, to occupy themselves however they choose. The possibilities are endless.

“Doesn’t feel like a dream to me,” Alex says sweetly, pulling back.

“You’re so mean,” Jack says. “Are you saying I’m not your dream guy?”

He gets an eyeroll for his troubles, but then Alex agrees to order the pizza, leaving Jack to eat his cereal in peace instead of having to deal with phones and Other People. Normally he’s a fan of Other People, but tonight it’s all Alex. 

(As far as Jack is concerned, as long as Alex is here, every night is all Alex.)

-

The pizza arrives as they’re half an hour into rewatching the first episode of The Mandalorian. This is the first and last time they pause until Alex yawns, and Jack realizes that midnight in L.A. is three in the morning in Maryland.

“Bedtime,” he declares. If Alex weren’t as nocturnal as he is, he probably wouldn’t have even made it to midnight. As it is, he drags his feet every step from the living room couch to Jack’s bedroom, including his detours to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Jack cleans up a little in the meantime, breaking down the pizza box to dispose of it and rinsing all the dishes for easier cleanup in the morning. The responsible thing would be to wash them now, but Jack can’t find any reason to be responsible. It’s his own home. He’ll wash dishes when he chooses.

By the time he’s turned all the apartment lights off and shuffled into his room, Alex is curled up under the blanket. His eyes are closed like he’s asleep but he’s breathing like he’s awake. Jack putters around, quietly putting on his own pajamas and brushing his teeth, before he, too, climbs into bed.

As predicted, Alex turns over. “Wh’time are we waking up?” he slurs.

Jack reaches blindly for his phone, plugged in on the side table. “Dunno. What time are we going to the studio?”

“Ten?”

Jack sets an alarm for nine, though it’s more for Alex’s sake than his own. “Okay. Done.”

“Love you,” Alex mumbles, burrowing into Jack’s chest. Jack smiles — he has his own stupid Alex smile for when Alex is being lovably, adorably, uniquely Alex — and pulls the blankets up over him. 

“Love you,” he hums, pressing a kiss into Alex’s hair. The quiet moment swells around them both. Jack falls asleep fast. He’s holding Alex close in his dreams, too, like even his subconscious can’t come up with anything better than this.

-

It’s hour nine in the studio, and Jack is ready to call it.

They’ve gotten a lot done. It feels good to be back, or as ��back” as this is, back in the studio, back to writing music. Alex has obviously been overflowing with ideas from being cooped up at his farm in Baltimore, which has led to an extremely productive studio day. Hardly half an hour has passed without someone picking up a guitar. 

For the first eight hours, Jack is totally invested. This is his lifeblood, too, and by now he probably has a hundred separate voice notes of guitar riffs and chord progressions that he hadn’t wanted to forget. Getting those off of his phone and into real recordings is a big sigh of relief. 

Also, he and Alex are really good together.

This has been pretty reliably true throughout their career, but somehow it never fails to give Jack a thrill. Watching Alex’s eyes light up as Jack plays through Lead Guitar Part #37; his rapid “waitwaitwait play that again” as he pulls out his phone to scroll through lyrics jotted down in transient moments of thought; the spark that catches when somehow Alex has the perfect line to sing over this four-note riff that’s been echoing around Jack’s empty apartment for weeks. It feels a little like fate every time. Alex can drive a lyrical stake through an elusive melody like no other.

The progress today has been sufficient, so Jack thinks now is a good time to bow out, before they run out of steam. Quit while they’re ahead. There’s always tomorrow and the next day. Nine hours is a respectable studio day, and if today is any indication, they could have a song or two tomorrow at this rate.

It’s just, Jack wants to go home. He’s not going to say it — at least not yet — because Alex is still operating at full capacity. But he’s thinking it. If anyone asks, he won’t hesitate.

When Alex glances over, Jack is pretty sure it’s written all over his face.

“You okay, JB?” Alex says. His eyes soften around the edges when he smiles. It’s completely unfair. Just like Jack to have the most irresistible boyfriend on the planet. Perfect for being in love with, but extremely difficult for saying no to.

“Tired,” Jack says, biting his lip. The guitar he’s holding has been idling on his lap for about twenty minutes, ignored by Jack, who’s been on Instagram instead. Finally he sets it aside. “Just think I’m done for today.” As a compromise, he adds, “If you guys have another half hour, I don’t mind.”

“No, that’s okay,” Alex says. He glances at Zakk, who’s fucking with the levels or something. “Yeah? You think? Good for today?”

“Yeah,” Zakk says. He tilts his head bizarrely to flash a grin at Jack. “Man, it feels good to be back here with you guys.”

“Dude, don’t even start,” Jack says. “I think if I had spent another day alone at my place I would’ve probably, I don’t know, started trying to learn Korean or something.”

“Why fucking Korean?”

“Exactly.” Jack points at him, then at Alex, who jumps out of the rolly chair he’s been occupying and grabs Jack’s finger. Jack shakes his head, smiling, as Alex laces their fingers together and ducks down to kiss his forehead. “Is that a yes, we can call it?”

“I can call it,” Alex says. “Cervini?”

“Yeah,” Zakk says. “Let’s call it.”

And that’s that for the day.

-

The stupid TikTok they’d made on the way to the studio has, predictably, blown up. 

Jack can’t stop watching it; it’s a little bit cringey but that’s the point, and also, Alex looks insanely good in the red flannel and that yellow beanie. Maybe their merch is designed specifically to look good on Alex. Probably. Not that that’s difficult. Basically everything looks good on Alex.

“Stop watching it, oh my God,” Alex says, crawling into bed on top of Jack and flattening him against the mattress. Jack makes varying noises of protest as Alex pries his phone out of his hand, turns it off, and tosses it aside, forcing Jack’s attention instead to Alex’s face.

If he looks good onscreen, it’s nothing compared to real life.

“Lose some weight,” Jack grunts, shifting to tip them both onto their sides. They’re forehead-to-forehead, one of Alex’s arms trapped under Jack’s side and the other slung over his waist. “You’re not twenty-one anymore.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you complaining?” Alex licks Jack’s cheek, and Jack’s protest of Alex, gross! is lost in Alex’s laugh. “Sorry. That was gross. I’ve just missed you.”

“Weird fuckin’ way of showing it,” Jack says, grinning. “I thought we kinda did this yesterday. We spent the entire day together. And I’ve missed you too.” He hesitates. “You could just stay here, you know.”

Except he couldn’t, and they both know that. Alex has a farm to tend to. He’ll be here as long as they’ve got time in the studio but then he’ll be gone, back to Baltimore. Growing up sucks sometimes. It means Jack has to be mature about Alex having a life of his own. If he expects Alex to respect his decision to stay in L.A., then Jack has to respect Alex’s decision to stay in Maryland. Which he does. He does.

But he also misses his boyfriend a hell of a lot. These days it’s worse than ever. They’ve never really been apart this long. 

“Come on,” Alex says, smile flickering. “Don’t.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Jack says. He sighs. “I take it back. I don’t want you to stay anyway. I don’t even want you in L.A. at all. Who invited you here? What are you doing in my house?”

Alex laughs. He extracts his arm from underneath Jack and runs his hand through Jack’s hair, slotting their legs together. “Cheapest listing on Airbnb. I was told there would be free sexual services?”

“Uh, I don’t know about free,” Jack says. He smirks and steals a kiss off Alex’s lips. “You can repay me by doing household chores.”

“Then it’s just fucking prostitution.”

“That,” says Jack, “is true.” Alex scratches lightly against the side of his face, and the kiss he draws Jack into is so sweet that Jack contemplates never ever breaking it. This is all he needs in life, just Alex — anywhere, but especially here. Jack has never found his apartment to be bleak, but now that he knows how vibrant it can be, how warm and lively when inhabited by Alex, he suspects it will feel grim when he’s alone again.

Thinking about the future gets dangerous. He’d much rather stay in the now. Alex is still kissing him, drawing Jack nearer in such a familiar way that when Jack closes his eyes he can almost hear the rumbling of the tour bus and the low murmurs of conversation happening outside their bunk. They’ve found themselves in this position too many times to count over the years, using the excuse of a small bunk to press together like they didn’t do exactly the same in two-person hotel room beds. It’s been too long since Jack has had anyone to cling to in bed. Comfort settles like a talisman in his chest.

They’re not twenty-one anymore, but sometimes it still feels like they could be. It was easier for the years to blur together when they were spent largely chasing their way across the globe. These days, the contrast between then and now feels blindingly stark. It’s nice to sink into something this familiar. Almost like Alex is pulling him back in time, too.

Or maybe like Alex is pulling the past into the present. Jack doesn’t feel twenty-one. He feels thirty-two and still in love with Alex. Eleven years from now, he’ll probably feel just the same. The way that Alex kisses him, holding him close, has nothing to do with how old they are. It’s only familiar because nothing has changed; Alex loved him then and Alex loves him now. 

Their love grows, but it never wavers.

Alex doesn’t pull away so much as just tilt his head until they’re not kissing anymore, tucking his face into Jack’s chest. “I’m tired,” he announces. Jack could basically have guessed that. It’s only eleven, but in Maryland time it’s two in the morning. 

“I know,” says Jack. “That’s why we’re in bed. To sleep.”

“Really, you want to sleep now?” Alex sounds surprised. “It’s not even midnight.”

“I am capable of having a responsible sleep schedule sometimes, you know.”

“That doesn’t sound like the Jack I know.”

You haven’t been around for a while, Jack doesn’t say. “Shut up, you bully. I take care of myself.” He makes a face. “Also I want to sleep when you do. I don’t think that’s a crime.”

“I’d love that,” Alex says. His words come out muffled. “I love you. Have I told you today that I love you?”

“No,” Jack says, smiling.

“Liar. I’m sure I did. But I’m telling you again. I love you.” Somehow Alex’s grip on Jack becomes even tighter. Prying him off is going to be a difficult task, if Jack can muster up the willpower to do it. It won’t be easy. This is probably Jack’s favorite position to be in, tangled up with Alex. It doesn’t hurt to hear Alex repeating, “I love you, you’re my favorite, I’m so happy I’m here,” quietly, almost as if to himself.

“You need to put on your pajamas,” Jack says. 

“I don’t wanna,” Alex whines. “I can sleep like this. Tour life. Too busy for pajamas.”

“So rock ‘n’ roll,” Jack says dryly.

“Yes. Exactly. I’m too cool for school.”

“Yeah. Really badass of you to fall asleep in a flannel.” Jack kisses Alex’s shoulder over the plaid pattern. “Which, may I say, looks very good on you.”

Alex hums contentedly. “See, that’s why I love you. Ego boost.”

“You are the most lead singer to ever lead singer. Jesus Christ.”

“Damn right I am, baby! Own it. I gotta own it.”

“Everything you say just dates you more. You sound so old.”

“You’re exactly as old as I am, old man,” Alex says, trying and failing to kick Jack even though Jack has both of his legs trapped.

“Old men put pajamas on before sleeping,” Jack informs him. “The buttons on this thing will be so uncomfortable to sleep in.”

“Yeah, but consider this,” says Alex, in the tone of someone about to make an extremely good point. “I don’t care and I’m tired.”

Jack sighs. “Seriously, you really wanna sleep in your clothes?”

“Yes,” Alex says. He buries his face in Jack’s neck, softly humming. When he speaks, Jack’s skin buzzes. “Please? Just tonight? I’m sleepy. Being a grown-up is for losers.”

Jack smiles to himself. “You’re such a lazy boy.”

“Yes. I am a lazy boy. This sounds like you agreeing.”

“I can’t stop you, can I?”

“Nope,” Alex says cheerfully. “But you can support me.”

“I support you all the time. I am literally the lead guitarist of your band. How much more supportive can I get.”

Alex laughs. It’s a tired laugh, on the brink of falling asleep, and Jack likes that he’s managed to make it happen at all. “It’s our band.”

“Comrade.”

Alex snorts. “Comrade.” He kisses Jack’s neck. “I’m gonna fall asleep right here, if that’s cool.”

“Get under the covers at least,” Jack says. It takes a little bit of bitching and moaning, but eventually Alex concedes, unsticking himself from Jack like it’s a physical burden to do so and crawling under the blanket with Jack.

“Oh,” Alex says, fishing around on the mattress underneath him. He pulls out Jack’s phone. “This is yours.”

Jack plugs in his phone and sets the same alarm he used yesterday. Loudly announcing that “boy is asleep” cuts out the lights. In the dark and quiet of the room, Jack hugs Alex as close as he possibly can, pressing his nose into Alex’s neck. It’s easy when Alex is making the same effort. Jack wonders if Alex feels the same as he does, like he has to engrave this memory in his mind, the way he’d never gotten a chance to when lockdown first set in. It had never occurred to him, before, that they’d be separated. That there might once come a time when Jack would want to hug Alex and Alex wouldn’t be there to hug.

Now, the threat of knowing that their clock is already ticking down is enough to make him want to burn this sensation forever into his skin and bones.

“Goodnight, my love,” he whispers with a tight squeeze. “Did I tell you today that I love you?”

There’s a sleepy hum in response. “You tell me you love me every second of every day,” Alex murmurs. “But I never get tired of hearing it.”

Jack smiles. He breathes his own I-love-yous, softly enough that it’s almost white noise, and before Alex falls asleep he tilts his head towards Jack. His eyes are closed, so Jack closes the gap and brushes their lips together. 

Alex falls asleep soon after. Jack likes that, that neither of them have had the last word. The gentleness of the kiss soaks through his body and he drifts off with a smile, warm and content.