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yourlocalfictionalenthusiast · 3 years

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IN LIFE, IN DEATH...

PART TEN

:Masterlist:

A/N: And that’s a wrap! Ahh, writing this series has been so fun and I’m so glad that so many of you have liked it so much. Thank you guys for staying until the end and hopefully for upcoming stuff 👀 I hope you enjoy the finale of In Life, In Death... <3

(Also the song mentioned in part six and this part is ‘She Is Love’ by Parachute) <3

December 1994

Luke groaned as he woke up, squinting hard to try and adjust his eyes to the amount of light in the room.

Even before he could see clearly, he knew he must've fallen asleep in the studio judging by the soreness in his back and neck that he always got when he slept on the old couch. It couldn't have been more than six in the morning, and Luke could still feel the tiredness in his bones. So he tried to turn away from the light and hopefully fall back asleep, but there was something keeping him firmly in place.

His heart skipped when he looked down and saw that you were laying right next to him with your head on his chest and an arm thrown across his stomach. When he realized that his own arms were wrapped around you, his heart broke out into a full-on tap dance.

Waves of confusion ran through his still-foggy brain until he saw his guitar case propped up against the piano and his backpack on the floor with his clothes spilling out of it.

Then the events of last night quickly came back to him.

How he had gotten home late from rehearsal and his mom was waiting in the kitchen with his latest report card and her signature lecture at the ready. One minute he was standing there yelling, packing all he could fit into his bag, and the next, he was halfway to the studio with the rain soaking him head to toe.

He had expected it to be empty when he finally got there, but he was flooded with relief when he saw you. All the frustration slowly melted out of him the longer he laid there with you, leaving him feeling exhausted and shivering despite how warm he felt.

The last thing he wanted to do was talk about any of it, but when you asked, the words came out of his mouth before he could stop them.

He remembered rambling and crying again, the sound of your voice and the feeling of your fingers in his hair warming him up even more. Then finally, he remembered falling asleep with his chin tucked on top of your head, the smell of your shampoo filling his senses.

Without thinking, Luke reached down and carefully pushed a piece of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear and smiling to himself when you shifted into his touch. Then taking in a sharp breath as the realization ran through him all the way down to his toes.

You were his best friend.

The person he wanted to see at the end of a long day. Whenever he was full of anger or lost in confusion, all he had to do was look at you and everything suddenly made sense again. With your pretty smile and laugh, and your way of flipping that little switch inside him that made his head all fuzzy and the ground start spinning under his feet.

You were his best friend, and he was in love with you.

2020

All you felt was a mixture of anxiety and nausea as you stood on the Orpheum's street corner, biting the tips of your fingernails.

The entire plan hinged on Willie and Teddy getting everything done in time, and considering that they had betrayed you all before, you couldn’t help but expect the worst.

“Look, don’t worry. Willie said he’ll get us on that marquee.” Alex said nervously as he kicked pebbles across the sidewalk.

“This is going to work, right?” Reggie asked.

“It has to.” Luke mumbled, wincing seconds later when another shock hit them.

Two sharp pops cut through the air behind you and you all whipped around to see Willie and Teddy standing just a few feet away. Willie was watching you all carefully with concern written all over his face, his eyes lingering on Alex longer than anyone else. Teddy stood at the edge of the group, practically burning a hole in your face with his guilty stare.

“Are you guys okay?” Willie asked.

“Yeah, nothing we haven’t felt before.” Alex laughed awkwardly. “How’d it go?”

“Well, when the opening band wakes up, they’ll find their bus two hundred miles out of Vegas.” Willie said with a proud smile as he did a spin, showing off his stolen jacket with the band’s name across the back.

“With absolutely no chance of getting back in time.” Teddy added.

Luke gave Willie a fistbump and pointed up to the office above the Orpheum. “That means there’s probably a promoter up there freaking out right now.”

Willie grinned, sarcasm laced in his tone. “Nah, man. This is Hollywood. I’m sure he’s being very professional.”

You laughed and then Alex slowly inched forward, clearly struggling for the right words to say to Willie. You gave his arm a quick squeeze before following Reggie and Luke down the street to give them space. Before you even got halfway down the sidewalk, Teddy poofed next to you.

“You know, If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you don’t want to talk to me.” He joked.

“Teddy-”

"I just-I didn't want to leave things the way we did." He rambled. "I'm sorry, I should've told you everything that night in the diner-"

"Teddy, It's okay." You said. "You told me before Caleb could put the stamp on me, and you didn't know the details about the plan until after it was too late to help my friends. Plus, I know how much you're risking helping us now."

As soon as the words left your mouth, you felt some of the weight fall off your shoulders. You weren't sure why since the situation was still a little painful and awkward. But being around Teddy always made you feel a little like that kid who started working at the diner with Cece all those years ago. Besides, they were so alike that you found it hard to stay mad at him.

You held out your hand for Teddy to shake. "Despite everything, I'm glad we met."

“Likewise, Gorgeous,” Teddy said with a relieved smile as he grasped your hand. With a subtle wink, he nodded over towards where Luke was standing at the end of the street. “He’s a lucky guy.”

"What? How did you?-" You sputtered as he stepped away. You never told Teddy about Luke, or at least you didn't think you did.

Teddy just smirked in response before disappearing into the air. At the same time, you saw Willie skate away out of the corner of your eye, leaving Alex alone on the sidewalk.

You all phased next to him and Luke squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "You okay, man?"

"Yeah. I'm good." Alex smiled slyly as he gestured to the office. "Looks like this show needs a new opening act though."

You grinned. "Let's go see if we can help with that."

When you got back to the studio, you found Julie pacing back and forth in the middle of the room as she wrung her hands together.

When you all poofed in, she immediately jumped into a load of questions, losing her breath halfway through and flailing her arms around.

"Whoa, just sit down," You laughed excitedly. "We'll tell you everything."

Julie took a gasping breath and plopped backwards onto the couch then stared at you all with expectant eyes. "Well?"

"It worked!" You announced. "Everything's fine."

"You should be getting the call...now!" Alex pointed to Julie’s phone on the table just as it started buzzing. You all cheered and Julie shushed you as she answered the call.

You heard a woman's voice say something through the phone and Julie gave a thumbs-up as she started jumping on the couch. You watched in amusement and mild horror as Luke and Reggie lifted Alex up into the air and spun him around.

Once he was back on the ground, Luke and Reggie made a beeline for you, each of them grabbed one of your arms and flipped you upside down over their shoulders.

You all spent the next twenty minutes laughing and screaming and Alex even got a little teary-eyed but you pretended not to notice. Then Julie called Flynn and ran off excitedly to decide her outfit for the night, leaving the four of you alone to plan out the setlist.

“Okay, so I’m thinking we start with Stand Tall.” Luke said excitedly as he wrote the words down in his songbook.

“Sounds good.” Reggie said, suddenly quiet.

“’Sounds good’? Guys, I wanna hear ‘That sounds awesome!” Luke reached out and nudged Reggie’s shoulder. “I know this isn’t the way we imagined any of this. But we need to be all in tonight. This is our second chance to play the Orpheum!”

“I get it.” Reggie sputtered. “But it’s hard. Do we even know what’s on the other side when we cross over? Do we still get to hang out together?”

You shifted your weight as the happy little bubble surrounding you popped. You had been so wrapped up in the excitement of finally playing the Orpheum that you almost forgot what tonight was really about.

“You guys are the only family I have.” Reggie’s eyes were glued to the piano as he played with his fingers. You reached out and locked his arm with yours in an attempt to comfort him.

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen either. But it’s not like we have a choice.” Alex said.

Suddenly, Reggie’s arm fell out of yours as all three boys fell back, clutching their sides.

“I’m pretty sure we do.” Reggie groaned. “And it rhymes with ‘Hollywood Ghost Club’.”

The garage doors creaked open and Julie appeared with a bright smile and a blue garment bag in her hand. When she saw your expressions, her smile fell. “What’s wrong?”

“We just got hit pretty hard by one of those jolts.” Alex said. “But we’re fine.”

“Oh, good.” She nodded, though she still looked on edge. “I’m nervous.”

“That makes two of us.” You said. “But we made it this far for a reason. We got this.”

“Can you ride there with me? I'm gonna need more pep-talk material for the drive there cause I still think I might puke.” Julie tucked her hair behind her ears.

“Of course, and don't worry, we’ll leave the windows open.” You joked, making everyone laugh.

The sound of a car horn cut through the air and Julie looked outside. "That's my dad. Are you ready, (Y/n)?"

You nodded. "Yeah, uh, give me a second. I'll meet you in the car."

As Julie disappeared behind the doors, you turned to the boys and sighed as you tried to soak up this moment. For all you knew, this could be the last little window of time you had alone with them before tonight.

Julie was a huge part of the band of course, but these were your boys. The ones who you started this all with, who had been by your side for everything.

From the look on all their faces, you could see that they were thinking the same thing.

Without saying a word, you launched yourself at Alex. He made a surprised noise but recovered quickly, throwing his arms around you and holding you tight.

"And I'm the emotional one?" He jokingly muttered in your ear and you pinched his side, making him jump back. "Rude."

As soon as your arms were open, Reggie stepped forward and hugged you so tightly that you were thankful to not need oxygen anymore because he was definitely crushing several vital organs.

You laughed and gave him one last squeeze before pulling away, locking eyes with Luke instantly.

Alex cleared his throat awkwardly and grabbed Reggie's shoulder, steering him over to Luke's songbook to 'check out the setlist again'.

"And then there were two." Luke joked.

You laughed and stepped into his waiting arms, making him laugh. You soaked up the feeling of comfort and familiarity for a minute before pulling away.

"This, uh, is for you," Luke said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. You knitted your eyebrows together in confusion as he handed it over. "I wanted you to have it in case...well, you know. If tonight doesn't work."

"It will." You said, trying to ignore the fact that it very well could happen. "You're not getting rid of me that easily, Patterson."

"I wouldn't dream of it." He quipped back, his voice sounding softer and less teasing than you would've expected. You pulled back from him and because you didn't know if you would ever get another chance, you stood on your tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek.

You moved away too fast to see his reaction but the gesture made the other two boys smirk at you as you dashed out of the doors, making a beeline for the car pulling out of the driveway.

The back rooms of the Orpheum were a maze.

You had left for a few minutes to walk around the venue and clear your head, trying to wring out the last of your nerves.

By the time you found your way back, you expected to find the rest of the band rushing to get ready in the dressing room. But all you saw was Julie anxiously pacing as she had been earlier, a habit she seemed to have inherited from both you and Alex.

“You okay?”

She snapped her head up towards you and sighed. “Yeah, just a little worried. The guys aren’t here yet.”

You looked around the room and then at the clock, frowning. The show was in less than half an hour and that was already cutting it close. Part of you wanted to go check on them but Julie seemed to need you more at the moment.

“Okay, well, give them another ten minutes. I'm sure they'll be here. They wouldn’t miss this…again.”

You ran your palm across the front of your pocket, feeling Luke's note next to your parent’s photo, and hoped you were right.

But then more and more time passed until the stage manager came to escort Julie to the stage.

"Just a second!" She calls out and then turns to you. "(Y/n), something's wrong. They were getting those jolts pretty hard before we left. They must've run out of time."

You shut your eyes tight as the words sunk in. All you could bring yourself now was, ‘This isn't what was supposed to happen.’

The world fell out from under your feet and you had trouble even standing up straight as you imagined what must've happened to them. Your best friends, your brothers, your family was gone and there wasn't anything you could do about it.

The guy knocked again, this time a little harder and with a nervous tone. Julie chewed her lip as she looked between you and the door and you could almost see the cloud of grief settling over her.

As hard as it was, you tried your best to shove your feelings down and marched up to Julie. There would be time to fall apart later, but you knew that this what they would want you to do. "Let's go do this for them, okay?"

She took a deep, shaky breath before hesitantly nodding. You followed closely behind her as she walked out the door though the halls until she reached the stage. You waited beside Flynn in the wing as Julie settled behind her microphone and addressed the crowd.

There were scattered claps from around the venue and then she took a deep breath before singing the opening.

After the first few lines, you took your cue and materialized at the center of the stage. The crowd gasped and cheered the way they always did, but you kept your eyes shut tight and focused on the music.

Just as the song started picking up, you heard a familiar pop in the air and then the sound of drumming. You whirled around to see Alex mounted onto a drum set at the back of the stage, twirling his drumsticks around and smiling like he had never been gone at all.

Once you got over the initial shock, you wanted to cry with relief. They were okay, they were here. Alex winked at you goofily, and you ran towards Julie’s keyboard.

She had started bouncing on the balls of her feet, both of you finally getting into the song now that they were coming back. You followed suit, dancing around the base of the drum set as yours and Julie’s voices came together.

Then Reggie appeared on the other side of Julie and you ran to his side. You bumped his shoulder with yours and he grinned, moving to stand back to back.

The song was ramping up to the chorus when a staticky noise cut through the air, not loud enough for the crowd to hear but enough to make you all look over to the other end of the stage.

You could see Luke's form fading in and out, a look of anguish on his face, and the pit in your stomach opened up again. The crowd was on the edge of their seats as Alex's drumming paused and Luke finally materialized to sing the opening of the chorus.

You didn't even know you were moving until you suddenly found yourself across the stage next to Luke, unable to stop smiling as you sang.

Julie joined you, throwing her arms up in the air happily and jumping around. Reggie appeared by her side, flashing the crowd a winning smile.

Alex stood up and gripped his mic as he sang this solo. You looked back at him and flashed him a proud smile, then whooping loudly when Reggie sang his lines.

You all went down the line hitting your notes until the chorus kicked in again and your heart felt so full you almost couldn't stand it. This was what you were so close to achieving before you died, it was all you had wanted for years, and you knew that if you hadn't died, that night would've changed your life. But this night was something even more special. Because you were all here, all together.

Even if it was just for one last song.

Julie caught your attention and nodded towards the platform that spread out into the crowd. You followed her to the center and stood back to back as everyone cheered.

The guys joined in on either side of you, Alex grabbing one of your hands and Luke holding the other. You all bowed to the audience before taking your cue and vanishing, leaving only Julie on stage.

You landed in the wing, feeling a little lightheaded and overwhelmed from all the emotions you had experienced in the last five minutes. The elated smile fading from your face when all three boys poofed by your side only to fall to the floor instantly.

“It didn’t work.” You said miserably as Julie emerged into the backstage area. She grabbed Flynn and whispered something to her, pointing in the direction of her family. Flynn nodded and disappeared into the crowd while Julie ran to your side.

You hauled Alex onto his feet, letting him lean on you to stay upright while Luke and Reggie trailed behind Julie as she led the group back to the dressing room. Once everyone was inside, they collapsed on the couch or the floor, loudly groaning in pain.

“What happened? Why didn’t it work?” Julie asked tearfully.

“I guess playing here wasn’t our unfinished business.” Alex said hollowly.

“Point Caleb.” Reggie muttered as he clung to the side of an armchair.

You stood frozen next to Julie as panic spread through your whole body, both of you flinching in sympathy as the shocks continued.

“You have to save yourselves right now.” Julie begged. “Join Caleb’s club. It’s better than not existing at all!”

“She’s right.” You managed to say, your voice shaky and almost giving out. Your stomach flipped at the thought of them having to work for an evil club owner forever, but the alternative was worse. “You guys need to go now! For me. For us.”

“We’re not going back there.” Reggie shook his head.

Luke pulled himself up and stumbled forward a little so that he was right in front of you. “No music is worth making if we’re not all making it together.”

You sighed sadly, thinking back to your conversation yesterday. “So no more regrets?”

Luke let out a deep sigh and then reached up and cupped your cheek with his right hand. “Just one.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in response and Luke blinked hard as if he was trying to find the words. "I never told you why I left that night."

"Luke, don't." You gave him a weak smile. "I get it."

"You do?" He asked.

You struggled to get the words out. "Yeah, I mean it was bound to happen eventually. We just got too close and it was weird for you. I understand t-”

"What?" Luke asked, cutting you off with a confused look. "No, no, that's not it at all. Read the-"

Before he could finish, you heard Julie gasp loudly from a few feet away. You looked over to see her stepping back from Alex with an awestruck look on her face as she gripped his forearms.

Wait, what?

Before you could even begin to process what you were seeing, Reggie was reaching out to Julie, who grabbed his wrist and hauled him up to his feet. The three of them stared at each other for a few seconds before Julie turned to you and Luke.

“Guys, come here.”

Alex reached out and pulled you into his side while Luke threw an arm around Reggie’s back and Julie brought you all in closer to her. At first, nothing happened. But then there was a faint buzzing sound and the boys lifted their wrist towards the ceiling and you all watched in awe as the stamp floated away in the blink of an eye.

“Whoa.” Reggie said, his eyes still glued to the ceiling. “I don’t feel as weak anymore.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Alex agreed. “Not that I ever was that weak in the first place.”

You rolled your eyes and let your head fall over on his shoulder. “What do you think that means?”

Luke smiled. “I think it means the band is back.”

It was quiet for a second before Alex looked at you all shyly. “You guys think we can try that hug thing again?”

You laughed as you huddled together again, sniffling and laughing. Then Julie yelled out that you had played the Orpheum and then you were all jumping around, still tangled in each other’s arms.

Eventually, you all broke apart and while the boys started chasing each other around, you turned to Julie. She looked into your eyes and immediately flew into your arms, muttering into your shoulder, “I always wanted a big sister.”

The words warmed your heart and you squeezed her extra hard, grateful that you actually could now. “Well, I’m honored.”

“My family's probably looking for me so..." Julie stepped back from your arms with the biggest smile you’d ever seen on her face, you jokingly bowed to her and she copied the gesture before disappearing behind the door.

You wiped the last of your tears out of your eyes and turned around to find Alex and Reggie were talking in whispers and wearing knowing smiles. When Alex saw you looking, he cleared his throat and nudged Reggie’s shoulder.

“Hey, Reg.” Alex said cheekily, not taking his eyes off of you for even a second. “I was going to check out the next band. You wanna come with me?”

“Sure!” Reggie started strolling towards the door, stopping only for a second to nudge your shoulder and whisper ‘don't do anything I wouldn’t do’ in your ear.

Alex fixed Luke with a pointed look over his shoulder and Reggie gave him a dorky wink before they poofed away. You smiled fondly at the space where they were just standing and awkwardly turned towards Luke.

“Hi.” You said, laughing awkwardly.

“Hi.” Luke muttered back as he stepped forward until he was close enough to grab your hand. “About what I was saying earlier…”

You opened your mouth to say something but he shook his head and pointed to your pocket. “Read it. Please.”

You tugged the note he had given you earlier out of your pocket and carefully folded it open to see that it wasn’t a note at all. It was the love song that Julie had found that day in the garage, the one that he didn’t want anyone to see. You struggled a little trying to decipher Luke's handwriting. The ink was a little smudged and the song was clearly unfinished but it was the most beautiful thing you had ever read. And he had written it for you.

"I didn't leave because we got too close," He said. "It was the opposite, (Y/n), I left because I was scared to lose you, and I know that doesn't make sense because I kind of did w-"

You carefully tucked the paper back in your pocket with one hand and grabbed the back of his neck with the other, pulling him down and closing the last bit of space between you.

Luke's brain short-circuited for a second before he started kissing back, grabbing your waist with enough force to nearly knock you both backwards. It was dizzying and a little desperate, yet weirdly familiar, as if you'd been kissing him your whole life.

Most moments with Luke felt like they were happening in slow motion, but this time it was like a high-speed movie montage of your whole lives. The stolen crayons, the time capsule, the pre performance pep talks, the smell of cinnamon, the ferris wheel, his jacket, the movie nights and songwriting sessions. All of it had led up to this moment.

"I love you." Luke said immediately after you pulled away. "God, I love you so much. I'm such an idiot. I'm sorry."

“Hey, it’s okay.” You laughed, blinking another wave of tears out of your eyes. “I should’ve told you forever ago instead of skirting around it.”

“And what is it that you should’ve told me?” He said teasingly and you rolled your eyes. You had gotten so used to Luke being so shut down or nervous around you that you almost forgot how much of a little shit he could be.

“That I love you too.” You said, unable to stop smiling.

Luke leaned down and captured your lips in another kiss, this time threading his fingers through your hair as he cupped your cheeks in his hands. “I’m never gonna get tired of hearing that.”

You bit your lip to keep another laugh from bubbling up as you looked up at him, feeling completely overwhelmed in the best way possible. "So...what now?"

"I don't know." Luke admitted. "But I know one thing."

"What's that?"

"That no matter where we go, or what we do," He pushed a piece of hair behind your ear. "In life, in death... I'm yours. Always."

The End

In Life, In Death Taglist:

@ifilwtmfc @instabull @wanniiieeee @tenaciousperfectionunknown @charliegillespiewife @merceret @itismeasmolpotato @lilostif16 @dangerouslyclose @iainttakingshitfromnobody @givemebooksorgivemedeath @sunsetcurvedotmp3 @askgeoff @mayleenicole5676 @puppy11148 @vampire7595 @wackyworrieruniverse @reallysparklychaos @lovelydaydreams15 @rachmmb @musicismyescape27 @stackie4ever @spidermankenobi

(Strikethrough means I can’t tag you)

JATP Taglist:

@caitsymichelle13 @sunsetcurvej

Let me know if you want to be added!

#luke patterson #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson x reader #Alex Mercer #Reggie Peters #julie molina #jatp fanfic #jatp

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dialux · 2 years

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Your post about elves with actually metalic hair lives in my head rent-free, so please imagine: the absolutely buckwild hairdos that become possible if you hair is, for example, gold or silver or copper wire.

Oh man you got me started so!!! Let's do this:

1. Imagine that you're mourning the darkening of Valinor and decide to go full fucking balls to the wall for the 100 year anniversary and literally make an entire tree out of your hair. Yes. It takes a month and three elves to do it properly, but it eventually works.

2. Nerdanel does her hair into beautiful sculptures of her sons after they turn out to by, yk, war criminals. People end up judging her mood by which face she makes that day- Curufin is for when she's feeling grieved; Maedhros for when she's feeling angry; Celegorm for when she's feeling haunted; Caranthir for when she's feeling lonely; Maglor for when she's feeling exhausted. She never does the twins. (Everyone else thinks she never does Feanor, but Nerdanel does: he just looks so similar to Curufin that nobody realizes. Those days are... the best days, really, but Nerdanel never tells anyone.)

3. Gives a new light to Galadriel giving her hair away to Gimli, doesn't it? Wires!!! It's a weapon- wire that can cut someone's throat, maybe, or work away at hinges, or bind something important together. BUT even more importantly: Galadriel's hair has both lights of the Trees- and suddenly that shining is even weirder, is even more precious, is even more ethereal. She's the only living person that combines the Light of the Trees. No wonder Feanor was obsessed. (Imagine, if you will, that you have been working your entire life towards inventing a cure for cancer, only to find out that your niece (of the estranged brother you really hate because he's TOTALLY that surfer bro that has, like, zero responsibilities) has that exact protein expressed in her fingernails. So you ask for a nail. One nail. Come on. From there all you have to do is back-engineer the protein and VOI-fucking-LA a CURE FOR CANCER!!! But she says no. And you ask again, and she says no again, and you're treated like a creep for asking, and you just- fucking- hate- teenage- girls. Anyways, that's basically Feanor @ Galadriel.)

4. Imagine the elves using their hair as last ditch weapons: a Feanorian general at the Dagor-nuin-Giliath, bloodied, screaming, uses one strand of her hair as a garrotte. A Silvan elf, chased for leagues and leagues by a ruthless pack of orcs, runs out of arrows; in response, he cuts off his hair and twists three strands each into forming a blade and then a shaft, and that's how fifteen orcs died in Arvernien during the Dagor Bragollach. A Sindar elf that braids poison into her hair so she can camouflage as a bush when she needs to, but can kill any warg that comes too close.

5. Morgoth shaves Maedhros upon capture, not because he wants to shame him- though he does- but because he doesn't want Maedhros to cut his own throat open, and Maedhros TOTALLY would. When Maedhros hangs on Thangorodrim, the hair starts to grow back, gently edged, blades like a kiss: and he begs for it to slit his throat, begs Manwe for a wind sharp enough to cut him open. It never comes.

#my writing #silmarillion #shrikeseams #dialux answers questions #honestly. the possibilities are amazing.

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i-am-a-bad-influence-writes · 3 years

Text

I found peace in your smile

Bucky Masterlist - Full Masterlist

Summary: Bucky gets activated as the winter soldier. No one knows how but he disappears and no one can fine him. But no one can keep running forever. Not even Bucky.

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word count: 6.5k (it’s a long one folks)

Warning: Fluff, I guess a bit of angst, cursing, and a little sprinkle of smut in the middle.

Author’s note: Inspired by THIS prompt from @artinvain

‘Hey Shuri, we’ve got a small problem.’ ‘What is it? Something wrong with the arm?’ ‘No, the arm’s fine. The man is not.’ ‘What?’ ‘He’s gone. He went into winter soldier mode for some reason and just ran.’

Steve walks into Tony’s office, confused at the mess and Tony’s limping body. There’s broken glass, broken furniture everywhere. There was clearly a struggle but who did this and why?

‘What happened?’ Tony holds up his finger to shush Steve and continues his phone call though it is mostly one-sided from the other side of the phone call at this point. Steve takes a seat, patiently waiting for an explanation of the mess and the alarm that went off mere seconds ago.

‘Well, that didn’t help at all,’ Tony states as he ends the phone call. He takes a deep breath and aggressively throws his phone across the room to release some anger. Hard enough to shatter the flimsy thing against the wall. His hand goes to his face and pinches the bridge of his nose while Steve still waits for an explanation. Tony can feel his beady little eyes on him with laser-like focus. ‘Your boyfriend slipped back into his winter soldier thingy. I don’t know why.’ And suddenly it’s a little too quiet for a little too long until Steve starts muttering questions.

‘What? Why aren’t you going after him?’ Tony looks at Steve as the man slowly builds up stress in his own body. That can’t be healthy. ‘Did you see my leg? I can’t walk.’ Steve sighs and nods. He walks over to Tony and helps him up.

‘We should get you some help.’ With Steve holding him up, Tony and Steve slowly make their way to the med bay.

‘I wouldn’t worry too much about Bucky. He’s been gone for about half an hour and I haven’t heard any screaming yet.’ As if that will calm Steve’s mind.

Bucky’s mind is in shambles. He knows he should be doing something but he doesn’t know what. There’s no one to give him orders and no one to tell him to calm down. And so he just keeps running. And running. And running.

He runs to the edge of the city and past it. Into the suburbs and past it. Into the farmland until he can’t anymore. His knees buckle as if his body is trying to tell him that he’s making a mistake. That this isn’t right. But it is. He has to find who activated him, who sent him on this rampage. Is there even anyone who activated him?

His knees scrape against the gravel dirt of a driveway as he comes to a sudden stop. He sits on his knees, palms resting on his thighs, head hanging. He can feel the dirt and gravel dig their way into the scrapes on his knees. It hurts but not enough. Not enough to make him come to his senses.

His eyes are fixed on the ground but he isn’t looking at it. He’s in his head, far removed from reality and the movement of his surroundings. His body jerks to action when he feels a tender touch on his shoulder. In a reflex, he roughly grabs the thing touching him. For a second, he looks at the palm of a hand with confusion in his eyes. The short fingernails on the ends of scarred fingers are lined with dirt. His thumb absentmindedly strokes the palm of it to find it soft in some places and calloused in others.

‘A-are you alright?’ His eyes finally move up to see the figure next to him. Draped in a creme-colored sundress stands a woman with her lips pursed shut. She looks scared but not in a way that he’s used to. She’s surprised by his action but not by his image. Does she know who he is? If she knows, why isn’t she running?

His eyes wander and he notices the cottage the woman probably came from. Hundreds of colorful flowers stand in her front garden and ivy is climbing up the walls of the cottage. He notices a white, fluffy cat rolling around in one of the flowerbeds, trambling them in her movements. It takes Bucky a second to look back at the woman. He opens his mouth to finally speak to her but no words come out.

‘Come on, let’s get you inside,’ she offers, gently moving his hand so he’s holding hers as if to ground him to reality. He doesn’t know why but he follows her like a lost puppy, his jaw still ajar. Bucky doesn’t try to fight her touch, he doesn’t try to run. But before he can step over the threshold of the cottage, he freezes.

She turns, never letting go of his hand, and shows him the gentlest smile he’s ever experienced. It’s warm like a sunset, beautiful like nightfall. ‘It’s alright. We’ll get you patched up and then you can leave if you want.’

Steve marches into the briefing room. No one has even had the chance to sit down but they all scramble to do so the second his hands slam down on the table in the middle of the room.

‘Listen, Bucky disappeared a few hours ago,’ he states in the most factual way he can with how unstable he’s feeling, ‘Tony said he went back into winter soldier mode and fought his way out of the building. Of course, Tony was stubborn and got hurt. He’s in the med bay now to get his leg checked.’ A small, amused scoff comes from Natasha.

‘Of course he did,’ she murmurs quietly. Steve’s eyes shoot in her direction. ‘Now is no time for jokes. We don’t know what will happen next. We need to find him as soon as possible.’ Sam coughs to catch everyone’s attention. When he has it, he gets up from his chair.

‘Listen, Steve, I hate to be the person to tell you this but if we haven’t heard anything yet there might be a possibility that he’s not alright. We all need to prepare for that.’ He can tell from the change in Steve’s stature that he won’t agree with him. In fact, he’ll acknowledge his words but he won’t take them to mind. Steve can’t lose Bucky again. He’s lost him too many times before. He won’t let his last memory of his best friend be the one of him hunting Bucky down. He can’t allow it.

‘Sure,’ Steve grumbles, ‘Sam, I want you and Natasha to stay here and use redwing to surveillance areas he’s been spotted at. Natasha, hack into security cameras around town, figure out where he went. I’ll go talk to Tony to see what triggered Bucky. Bruce and Rhodes, I don’t know. Do something. Anything.’ Natasha, Sam, and Bruce are out the door but Rhodes lingers. Before Steve can leave the room, he puts his hand on the shoulder of the super-soldier to stop him.

‘Listen up captain, you’re not going to like this but I am going to have to make a few calls in relation to his pardon.’ Steve looks betrayed, eyes wide like he’s been stabbed in the back. For a second, Rhodes thinks he’s going to get a rogue Steve on his hands once again but he seems to calm himself down rather quickly.

‘You don’t have to.’ Rhodes shakes his head with a slight smile, admiring Steve’s loyality to Bucky and his will to fight for him.

‘I can give you 24 hours but the second Bucky does something, I’ll have to contact someone,’ Rhodes warns Steve.

‘Of course, thank you so much, Rhodes.’ He nods as he steps out of the room. ‘Just this once Rogers,’ Rhodes calls after him but Steve’s long gone. He’s going to find Bucky and if he can’t… well, then he’s going to die trying.

Anxious and afraid, Bucky sits at a wooden table with a cup of tea in front of him. The nice lady that helped him is outside tending to her garden. Through the stained glass window, he watches her work in the golden sunlight with the white fluffy cat walking around her like he’s giving her orders.

She hadn’t asked him about his arm, nor his injuries, nor his lack of conversational skills. In fact, she hadn’t asked him anything after he found himself incapable to talk to her. She simply told him that she wouldn’t call the authorities if that was what he was afraid of and told him that he could stay as long as he wanted.

And she did it all wearing that wonderful, gentle smile of hers. Her smile enchanted Bucky, made him feel warm inside. She just looked so innocent and pure with that little sparkle in her eyes and the blush on her cheeks.

The soldier inside himself speaks: “I can’t leave her all alone in a cottage so far removed from society. Who knows what kind of figures lurk in the woods surrounding this place? I can’t leave. I have to protect her.”

And suddenly his body relaxes. The tension in his shoulder disappears and his grasp on the wooden table that had caused it to come close to splintering releases. Instead, his normal hand goes up to the cup of tea. It’s cold by now but he doesn’t mind.

Hours pass of him watching her through the window. Somewhere within those hours, the little furball she kept around came inside and made itself comfortable on Bucky’s lap. He had read the tag on her collar and smiled. Alpine. Fitting name for a white cat.

As the sun slowly starts to set, he hears the creaking hinges of the back door whine under the weight of the door as she pulls it open. She steps through with a warming smile on her lips. The door closes with a relieved sigh and she brushes her hands off above the sink before washing them. her eyes dart over to him a few times.

‘It’s getting late.’

‘I know.’ She almost jumps at the sound of his voice and he almost regrets speaking but the smile that disappeared from her face reappears just as quickly. She looks down at her hands instead of him but her smile looks different now. In a way, she looks shy.

‘Do you want to stay the night?’

Steve didn’t want it to get this far but Rhodes had to make the call. He tried to talk to him, extend the time a little longer. But when Bucky’s disappearance touched the seven-day point, Rhodes couldn’t keep it quiet any longer.

After all, there had been videos going around the internet of the winter soldier running around town in a frenzy, a cold look in his eyes. It had to be explained. To Steve’s disappointment, the response of the public to what had happened was terrible. Most were already afraid of Bucky even though he had proven himself to be one of the good guys. No one took into consideration that the man had been brainwashed and tortured for years.

On the other hand, Steve couldn’t really blame them. Most details of their work weren’t spread around and if someone’s actions weren’t captured on film or photo, they didn’t happen. And Bucky wasn’t particularly fond of pictures. But then a week turned into a month and a month turned into two. Steve’s trust in finding Bucky alive and well melted slowly like snow in the cold January sun. By now, Natasha told him to prepare for the worst and maybe talk to Tony about burying an empty casket.

Steve didn’t want to acknowledge that Bucky might be dead. Of course, he didn’t. So he went to Hydra facilities, Madripoor, anywhere he could think of where scum could get better off of Bucky getting worse. Sadly, luck wasn’t on his side.

The group saw Steve slowly deteriorate into a shell of the man he had been before. The loss of his best friend took a tough toll on him and he almost wanted to go through with the empty casket funeral until-

The door to Steve’s room flies open, loudly banging against the dresser behind it, knocking some knickknacks and valuables to the floor. Sam stands in the doorframe, looking surprisingly excited for a Sunday morning.

‘We know where he is!’

Soft morning light falls through the sheer curtains of your bedroom, illuminating the dust particles floating around in the harsh reality that is the morning sun. You roll over onto the naked chest of the sleeping man next to you. You fold your hands under your chin and admire him for a second. He looks peaceful like this.

His hair had grown out a little since you met but it had been quite short when he came to you so it wasn’t all that bad. Yesterday he had toyed with the idea to let you cut his hair and you joked back that he should grow a beard instead to match his hair. He had laughed loudly and you reveled in the sound of it. His laugh is made of pure sunlight and you’ll do anything in your power to hear it each and every day.

‘You’re staring,’ he grumbles. A bright smile pulls onto your face as you press a kiss to the underside of his jaw to greet him.

‘Good morning to you too,’ you say and lay your chin back on your folded hands, continuing to look at him with pure admiration. His metal arm moves to wrap around your waist. The metal is chilly against your bare back but not cold. After a week or so of sleeping in your bed, he had noticed you got hot really easily and would wrap his metal arm around you to cool you down. One downside had been that the metal would warm up to your temperature overnight but by then you’d be fast asleep most nights.

‘What are you looking at me for, doll?’ Your smile brightens a tad bit at the use of the nickname. It is so old-fashioned but so sweet. He never uses it in a degrading manner but more so to let you know he adores you.

‘Was thinking about us,’ you tell him, ‘about how bad you looked when you ended up on my driveway. ‘Bout how I thought you were going to run when I touched your shoulder.’

‘And now you can’t get me away from you.’ He chuckles as he says it, taking one of your hands from under your chin and pulling it up to his lips. He presses kisses to your fingers until he hears you giggle and lays your hand down on his chest, continuing to hold it in his.

But as his mind starts to wander back to that day, his smile fades and he looks concerned. ‘What’s up,’ you ask as you try to not seem too terrified of what he might say.

‘Something happened to me that day,’ he tells you as if he’s confessing to something. You bite down on your lower lip gently in anticipation.

‘What happened?’

‘I told you about the winter soldier, right?’ You nod. ‘That day, something triggered me and I slipped back into it. I don’t know if anyone tried to activate me or if I slipped into it because of a nightmare but it happened and I went looking for the person who activated me to give me an order.’

‘So why did you end up here?’ His thumb rubs your hand but he isn’t sure if he’s doing it for your comfort or his own.

‘The winter soldier saw a helpless woman living on her own in the middle of the woods,’ he explains but he hesitates for a second. His eyes dart over at you for a split second before looking back at the ceiling. ‘And I ordered myself to protect you.’

‘And that’s why you stayed?’ He looks back at you and nods, eyes wide, terrified of what you might say. Over time, he’s learned that you are quite the spitfire, not a helpless woman at all and you pride yourself on that. Will you send him away because of his words? No, you grin at him.

A wave of confusion washes over him but before he can ask you what you think about it, you get up and straddle him, getting comfortable on his lower abdomen, awfully close to his crotch to tease him a little because you know your words will annoy him.

‘That’s adorable.’ You watch his eyes darken as his hands move to your hips, fingers digging into your plush, naked skin.

‘Doll, I’m a ruthless killer. I’m anything but adorable.’

‘Or so you say and yet you are here, underneath me. Not only that but you walk around talking to a cat like it’s a person, you help me tend to my flowers, and you cook me dinner while wearing an apron that is bright pink and way too small for you. You, James Bucky Barnes, are adorable.’ You boop his nose but his hand swiftly catches your wrist and pulls you against him, your neck open and bare. He presses a trail of wet kisses up to your jaw. You whine as his other hand digs harder into the skin of your hips, roughly pushing you lower.

‘Say that again doll,’ he dares you. It’s a warning and a promise. Your next words will determine if you’ll be able to walk for the remainder of the day. Or days if you tease him enough. You lean back a little, letting his eyes wander all over your naked body as he admires the marks he left last night and the days before that. Then, his eyes lock onto yours. He can already tell what’s going to happen. You’ve got that twinkle in your eyes that never means anything good.

‘You’re adorable.’ You don’t linger when you’ve spoken the words. You jump right off him and sprint out of the room in hopes of making it to the couch to grab a pillow for defense before he catches you.

‘Oh, you’re dead,’ he laughs as he hears your hurried footsteps down the creaking staircase. He jumps off the bed, quickly grabbing his sweats and hopping into them. You were used to living somewhere no one comes but he still felt a little too bare when walking around naked.

‘You’d never kill me. You said you’d protect me,’ you tease him when he peeks his head into the living room. When he takes another step, you chuck a pillow at his head which he catches with ease.

A cocky smirk appears on his lips when he watches your face fall. You’ve realized you deeply underestimated your competition here. As you always do when play fighting with him.

‘Apologize and I might have mercy on you later,’ he offers. It’s a generous offer. You really have no way of winning here. That doesn’t mean you aren’t stubborn. ‘Never.’ His smirk broadens.

‘I was hoping you’d say that.’ He approaches you too quickly for you to respond. One second you’re standing behind the couch, the next you’re thrown over his shoulder and halfway up the stairs. Your pleading won’t save you now and you’re certain of it the second your body bounces onto the bed.

Bucky looks predatory, like a starved animal about to devour his prey. And yet, there’s this gentleness in his movements. It’s in the way he removes your panties and looks back up at you to check if you’re alright with this and in the way his hands caress your skin before diving between your legs, nipping at your pussy like it’s the elixir of life.

With his head between your thighs, his stubble brushing against you, he licks a thick stripe down your pussy. You shiver at the sensation and try to move your hips away. His arms hook around your thighs to keep you in place as he does it again. And again. And again.

You gasp when he finally latches onto your sensitive bud. A coil forms in your stomach, slowly tightening at every movement from Bucky, every sinful sound he makes.

He releases one of your thighs and uses his free hand to push a finger inside you so gently that you barely notice it until he moves. A loud yelp is pulled from your mouth when he adds another finger and brushes against your sensitive spot with the pads of his finger. The coil inside your stomach tightens. You’re close to your release.

‘Bucky-’ you whimper. He hums against your pussy and the vibrations tip you over the edge. You gasp out his name between a string of helpless moans as your hand shoots into his hair. He continues lapping up your juices as you come down from your high.

When your breathing slows, he moves up your body to capture your lips in a seething kiss.

‘Still adorable?’ You open your mouth throw some sassy comment that will leave you screaming his name but you’re cut off by the doorbell. The both of you freeze in place in the knowledge that no one ever comes around these parts on Sunday. When the doorbell rings again and is followed by aggressive knocking, the both of you shoot into action. Bucky hands you a set of clothing and clean underwear and shoves you into the bathroom. He tries to close the door but you push it open.

‘Bucky, it’s probably just the neighbor,’ you whisper to him in hopes of calming his nerves but you can tell it doesn’t work. He nods.

‘I know but just to ease my mind,’ he says with a slight smile. You nod and let him close the bathroom door. You lock it when it’s closed.

The doorbell rings a third time. Bucky changes into the clothes he had thrown onto the clothing chair in your room at the speed of light and grabs a gun he had hidden in one of your drawers. Slowly and quietly, he stalks down the stairs hoping to make out who is behind the door through the clouded glass in the front door before they notice he’s coming down the stairs.

And then he sees it. Red, white, and blue.

‘Really? This is where he was last seen,’ Steve questions Sam as they stand in front of a cottage with tons of flowers in the garden. It looks too whimsical for the winter soldier and Bucky alike. Steve would know. The man lives in an apartment that is a kitchen, a couch, and a TV. That’s it.

‘That’s where redwing spotted him,’ Sam shrugs. He hands Steve his phone to show him the footage. It’s blurry but the black and gold arm is easy to distinguish.

‘Alright. It’s worth a try.’ Steve walks up to the front door and Sam stays a few feet away just in case this whole thing is a trap. He gives Steve the thumbs up and watches as the super-soldier presses the doorbell. There is no sound from inside the house. Sam shrugs and watches as Steve sighs and presses the doorbell again desperately. This time, he follows it up by pounding the door.

‘Dude,’ Sam hisses at him, ‘calm down will you?’ He can tell Steve is frustrated and tired. The little hint of hope Sam had given him has already withered.

‘Why? It’s an abandoned house,’ Steve replies and presses the doorbell again for good measure. Sam shakes his head and continues to stand on the lookout until Steve decides to have peace with whatever is going on in his head. It only takes a minute or two and Steve almost wants to give up but then he suddenly hears the door open.

‘Steve?’

‘Bucky.’ A relieved breath leaves Steve’s body as he pulls his friend into a tight hug. ‘Shit, I thought you were dead.’ Sam watches the pair closely and immediately notices that Bucky doesn’t seem all too happy that they found him. He isn’t returning the hug like he’d usually do when Steve hugs him.

‘What’s up with all this Bucky,’ he asks him. Steve lets go of him and looks over at Sam, not quite understanding why he would ask that instead of if Bucky’s alright. But when he realizes Bucky isn’t answering, he understands.

‘Bucky, what is it?’ Steve looks desperate and then there’s the faint sound of a door opening upstairs. It’s so quiet they wouldn’t have heard it if it hadn’t been this quiet and tense between the three of them.

‘You should leave,’ Bucky tells them before they can ask any questions. The tension between them grows as Steve finds himself unable to speak. Sam peeks past Bucky and notices the shoes on the doormat. Bucky’s boots stand next to a pair of dainty, white tennis shoes. There’s a creaking coming from the stairs behind Bucky. The two watch him turn his head towards the sound.

‘You got a girl, Bucky?’ When Bucky looks back at Sam, his features seem softened. ‘You got a girl,’ he repeats but it’s not a question this time. It’s disbelief. Steve stands in front of his friend in confusion. Bucky sighs and turns slightly to gesture the person upstairs to come down. They watch the stairs in anticipation and watch a girl in a white and red, checked dress come downstairs. Her hair is messily thrown into a bun, her eyes scared, cheeks flushed as she presses herself to Bucky’s side. His arm wraps around her waist like it’s meant to be there.

‘Y/n, I told you about Steve right,’ he says. She looks over at Steve and smiles at him.

‘You did,’ she says with a voice like sirup, sweet and thick, ‘it’s nice to meet you, Steve.’ She looks over at Sam. ‘That would make you Samuel or Sam, right?’ ‘Just Sam is fine.’ She looks up at Bucky again, looking for any sign of what to do. Should she be scared? Can she trust these men? The tension in the air isn’t helping her. But Bucky doesn’t look at her, he looks straight at Steve.

‘This is Y/n. She took me in when I went haywire a few months back. I didn’t want to put her in danger by letting you guys come here,’ Bucky explains to them and suddenly Steve seems to fully realize the gravity of the situation.

‘Oh my god, you’re in love.’

Anxious and afraid, Bucky sits at a wooden table with a cup of tea in front of him. Through the stained glass window, he can see you work in the golden sunlight with Alpine running around you like he’s giving you orders.

You hadn’t asked about Steve and Sam or why they were here. You hadn’t asked why they looked angry and confused. You simply told them to come inside and made them all tea before disappearing into your garden after telling them they should talk.

And you did it all while wearing that wonderful, gentle smile of yours. The one that makes Bucky feel warm inside. The one that felt warm like sunrise and looked beautiful like nightfall. It’s like the first time he saw you all over again.

But no one dared to say a word after the door closed behind you. The tea in their cups is slowly cooling down and no one seems to want to say anything. Well, Steve wants Bucky to speak and Bucky wants to rip Sam’s head off for bringing him here but no one wants to speak on their own accord.

Eventually, Sam decides to be the bigger man and speaks up: ‘Look, we didn’t know where you went and we wanted to make sure you were alright.’ Bucky nods. He understands but that doesn’t mean he agrees with it. It was nice being considered dead. He didn’t have to worry about anything but you.

‘Can you tell us what happened that day?’ Bucky lets his head hang.

‘I don’t know. I haven’t been able to figure it out.’ Steve leans in a little bit, wanting to comfort his friend yet knowing that he won’t allow it.

‘When did you snap out of it?’ Steve looks nervous as he asks it. Bucky knows it’s because he’s worried he’s might’ve done something to you before that.

‘I didn’t hurt her if that’s what you’re thinking.’

‘He’s just asking what happened all the time you were gone,’ Sam clarifies in hopes Bucky won’t take it as an attack.

‘I know,’ Bucky snaps back, ‘but you have to know that I didn’t hurt her.’ The conversation suddenly has a lot more weight to it. It presses onto their chest and they feel like they’re underwater, holding their breath until they’re up again. Bucky feels tears in his eyes but he doesn’t want to cry. ‘I just know I started running without a place to go and I ended up here. I couldn’t run any further and she took me in. I was still very much the winter soldier at that point but she sat me down and tended to my wounds. And then she smiled at me. I just- I gave myself the order to protect her and I snapped out of it.’

‘And then?’

‘I fell in love.’ It’s like a heavy wind passes through the room, blowing away the previous tension and leaving a bit empty space. Sam isn’t sure what to say but Steve is smiling.

‘You fell in love?’

‘I did.’

‘All because she smiled at you?’ Bucky nods and as he lifts his head to look at Steve, he sees his friend has tears in his eyes. Tears of happiness. Steve has never seen his friend like this before. Not in the 40s, not in modern times. He looks genuinely happy with the small life he created for himself.

The back door opens with loud squeaking and you peek your head around the corner. They watch you gesture for Bucky to come to help you. He excuses himself and follows you outside. Sam and Steve watch as you open the shed and point at something you can’t reach. Bucky grabs it for you with ease and seemingly looks to warn her that it’s heavy. You don’t look to believe him and try to take it from his hands.

‘He looks happy, doesn’t he,’ Steve mumbles.

‘Should we leave him alone?’ Sam sits back in his chair and crosses his arms. ‘I mean, deserves to have some peace. Peace in his head, peace in his life.’

‘I don’t think I could say goodbye that easily,’ Steve admits as they continue to watch Bucky and you outside.

He seems to refuse to let you take the thing from his hands and puts it down in front of you. He crosses his arms in front of his chest and watches with an amused smile on his lips as you try to pick it up. It takes a few tries but you seem to admit that it’s too heavy for you, finally allowing him to bring it to wherever you need it to go.

‘Maybe we can arrange something,’ Sam suggests, ‘because the world might still need him. Or he’ll need us. Either way, we should keep an eye on him.’ They see Bucky put down the thing for you. He leans against the shed, talking to a white fluffball as you start working on the thing.

‘That’s fair.’ They watch you nod at Bucky. He picks up the cat by his feet and carries it towards the house with you in toe. The door opens again and the two of you step inside.

‘How is the tea,’ you ask with a cheerful smile but then you notice all the cups are still full, ‘you know, you could’ve just told me if you wanted coffee instead.’

‘Oh, no, it’s not that,’ Steve quickly says, ‘we were just talking. I guess we forgot.’ You chuckle as you start to wash your hands.

‘It’s fine. Bucky does it all the time.’

‘What if I just prefer it cold?’

‘You don’t,’ you argue with a teasing grin, ‘I can see how disgusted you look when you accidentally drink it cold.’ Sam stifles a laugh. Bucky sits down at the table again.

‘We talked,’ Bucky tells them, ‘and I do want to see you guys sometimes but I just don’t want this to become a target or a safe house. So no wounded soldiers, no fighting, no hiding.’

‘She agrees?’

‘She has a name but yes, she agrees.’ Sam nudges Steve.

‘I like her.’

Evening falls on the first year of Bucky’s new life. He sits in the back garden of the cottage at the campfire he build with Sam and Steve. The two sit by his side while he watches you play with Sam’s nephews.

Sarah comes outside with another round of beers and calls her boys over to come inside as it’s far past their bedtime. The three men watch you and Sarah get the kids inside and listen as the quiet of the forest returns.

‘Was it really her smile?’ Sam nudges Bucky as he asks it, a cheeky grin on his face.

‘You’re never going to let that go, are you?’

‘Why would I? It’s like a damn fairytale. Fucking Beauty and the Beast playing right in front of my eyes,’ he says with a laugh. Steve gives Sam a push to make him shut up and almost pushes him off his chair.

‘I’m happy you found her Buck,’ he tells his friend, ‘she’s great.’ Bucky nods, a grin pushing its way up onto his face as he reaches into his pocket, letting his hand glide over the velvet box he has tucked away in his jacket.

‘I think she’s it for me,’ Bucky tells them and pulls out the box to show them his intentions. ‘I know most people wait a few years but I’m pretty sure I want this for the rest of my life.’

The house is quiet except for some snoring from Sam in the guest bedroom. You lay on Bucky’s chest, tired and satisfied. His arms are around you, holding you close but knowing that he’ll have to get up in a second to get you comfortable.

‘I should get you cleaned up,’ he says and tries to get up but you hold him down.

‘Don’t. Just stay.’ He gives you a confused look as you bite your bottom lip. ‘I heard you talk to Sam and Steve.’ His heart drops as nerves start to rush through his body like it’s a damn race track.

‘How much did you hear?’ He prays to the gods you heard nothing and he can just continue looking for the right moment to ask you to be his wife. But would it really be that bad if it happened right now?

‘I heard you say this is it for you.’

‘And?’

‘This is it for me too.’ He smiles brightly, pulling you closer to him. You feel your body warm up as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. Suddenly, laying like this together feels ten times more intimate.

‘I was looking for the right moment to ask you,’ he says as one of his arms leave your body and move to grab something from his nightstand. ‘And I thought it might be by the fire tonight but I never got the courage to ask.’ He lays a velvet box in front of you by your hand so you can open it. You fiddle with it for a second as you start to realize the weight of the moment. He wasn’t just saying it, he meant it.

‘From the moment we met, I found peace in your smile and I find it day and day again. You thought me to forgive myself and love without restraint. And we don’t have to get married if you don’t want to, we can just continue to stay like this, but I’m a classic man so I’ll ask anyway. Will you-’

‘Yes.’ You press your lips against his, your hands gently on his cheeks. ‘Yes, I’ll marry you.’

Epilogue:

Sam has a head like a dog’s breakfast as he sits at the table slowly chowing away at his breakfast. The poor man is the only one with a hangover and his nephews are already running and screaming, excited for the day. Sarah sits down with him and shakes her head at his moody gaze.

‘Shouldn’t have had that last beer,’ she lectures him. He sighs.

‘Sarah, Bucky was talking about love like he was a teen with a crush,’ Sam argues, ‘I had to hear all of it.’

‘Yeah, but you were drinking with two super-soldiers who quite literally can’t get drunk How’d you even get to bed?’

‘I carried him,’ Steve calls over from the couch, still snuggled under the blankets you had given him to sleep under, ‘but you should be glad you were out right away.’

‘How come?’

‘Those two went all night.’ He nods his head upstairs.

‘We weren’t that loud,’ you exclaim as you come around the corner, rubbing your eyes. You had quickly thrown on a short summer dress and put your hair up, not really thinking about it. Sarah laughs as she sees all the lovebits, bruises, and hickeys littering your skin.

‘Sweetheart, if you’d going to lie you shouldn’t flaunt the incriminating evidence,’ she tells you.

‘What?’ You walk over to the full-length mirror in the hallway. ‘Bucky! You’re a dead man!’ The three in the living room laugh as they hear the stairs creak. They hear you yelp and watch as Bucky walks in with you over his shoulder. He sits you down onto your big, cozy chair and presses a kiss to your cheek.

‘How lovely that our first quarrel is about sex,’ he hums to you as he makes his way to the kitchen.

‘What do you mean by that,’ Sam asks him. Steve sits up and looks you up and down. And then he notices it.

‘Oh my god, did you ask her while you two were having sex,’ he loudly exclaims as he stares at Bucky. Sarah and Sam stare at Bucky in disbelief as you feel yourself go bright red.

‘No, I asked her after round one.’

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commander-orca · 2 years

Text

You were the child a shooting star blushed upon and so... It left you a gift

Tags: Suoh x Rochalizo, Modern college students AU, fluff, Christmas, established relationship, nudity, sex scenes, reassurance, perhaps a tiny bit of angst, physical & emotional parental abuse, school deadlines, daily domestic life, cuddles, insecurities, masturbation, existential crisis, panic attacks, mutual understanding, light forms of self harm, sibling issues, ok I lied there's quite a lot of angst, but there's a lot of good too, working through a relationship, domestic delight, hanging out daily, sleepovers every night w/ your best friend who's also your boyfriend, living a good life despite everything

Note: I wanted to post it all in one but I realised I might not have the time to do so... There you have it!

CHAPTER 1/? probably out of 3 or 5

The vehicle wagged, its sporadic tremors resounding through the interior of the coaches as it winded through the wet dented road. Inside of them, a blue sullen light spread. The only two passengers sat quietly, jiggling like colourful fish in a dull aquarium. Today, they hadn't had the usual misfortune of hexing the noise, for it was not often that the carriage was lulled in such silence. Its empty seats, flaunted for who let their eyes wander gave a strong feeling that tramways, in the early morning, had become another one of those troubling liminal spaces. The long unoccupied corridor rocked back and forth, haunted by memories of the many crossings it had seen.

An old woman sat close to the wall, shivering in her coat, holding a used tissue through wrinkly fingers. Two rows in the front, a boy was slumped on his spot, almost falling back asleep as he drifted away in the tune pouring through the public speakerphones. Blue fingernails beat to the rythmn in terrible pace. In this state of half awakeness, some distasteful pop song's glum notes mingled with the smells of humidity and sights of the blackened cloth benches. Dirty finger marks, pigeon droppings stained the no longer clear panes despite the long drippings of water which challenged each other to a race against the glass. It was one of these days. And it wouldn't stop raining.

His phone screen he had kept close to his face suddenly brightened and he growled, reluctant to ever lay his eyes on something so luminous. He found out it had been a just received message. And from a beloved person that is, which made all notion of potential nuisance go away. The text was short and gentle. A single 'Good morning Sugarloaf'. Rochalizo had started smiling. He read it on the locked display several times over, trying to hear the right tone and voice behind those words. Rubbing his thigh with his grey-mittened-hands he waited for another one, knowing they rarely came alone. As a second one appeared, he had been proven right: a voice message.

"God damnit, can't you just send written ones, like everyone else?", he complained in a whispery voice and put his backpack down.

He blocked it between his shins so it wouldn't slide down the alley while he rummaged through to find his headset. As he pressed it play and heard Suoh's voice come to him through the steaming teapot, he felt like he was back there for a little while, safe between the four tangerine walls of the snug and merry house. He couldn't catch the first seconds, muffled by a little domestic turmoil but the rest seemed to be a story of something which had made him laugh.

"In any case, it must've been a good sleep since you put the cereal bowl in the bin", concluded Suoh, amused.

"What...", Rochalizo muttered aloud in his thick woolen scarf. A few seats away, the old lady's head turned slightly.

Then, a last text came. 'I love you :)'.

The boy's brow furrowed, his mind still hinged on the anecdote. Tiredness made him forgetful of tons of things and messed with his memory so that at times, it had him unable to tell if he had completed a task (the most repetitive ones customarily). He visualised the kitchen and remembered having stumbled around for a bit, flickered through paintings and jammed them into his bag, but not having done such a stupid thing. He trust it he had, however. No offense to Suoh, but if this had been one of his jests, then he would have known immediately — this idiot couldn't lie for his life. And for himself, he knew mixing up tasks when his mind was elsewhere was a stupid habit of his; their kettle which had been set on fire by his doing would be remembered.

He entered his password and wrote in a rush a 'Sorryyy! You're right can't even remember what I ate this morning. Nice catch'. Then, one he typed a little more slowly, a little more carefully, feeling the scope of the words and moved by some timid hesitation. 'Love you'. He held the phone in his hands for a moment, gazing blankly at the bright screen. This had no other purposes than embracing his presence and carving those mundane but heart-pumping words into his brain. But the latter wasn't online anymore. He had left a few seconds after he had started typing. Rochalizo remembered him saying he would have some studying to do and when he decided firmly on something, he put his mind to it wholly and seldom postponed it. 'Blessed are those who don't put off doing things' or whichever way the saying went...

The pre-recorded voice shrilled throughout the car, bringing the old woman up on her feet and Rochalizo stood up too, fidgetting with his headset wire. They had changed the voice making the announcements, he vaguely thought and for any reason, figured he liked the old one better. The central place unfurled rapidly, as though a red carpet on a famous aisle, followed by tall cream-coloured buildings, parks and memorials, eventually a bagel shop he failed to recognise. It stood in the place of the previous family-clothes shop in town, certainly replaced for good. He sucked in a little air, mocking himself. He was getting strangely nostalgic these days... Even for a town which deserved less than half of his sympathy. As soon as the automated doors opened, he got out.

OoOoO

Although it was morning already, buildings and walls still sunk into the deep blue of the night. Rochalizo's long and roughly drawn shadow under the sleepless street lights was of a mournful orange. Their brightness lit up the concrete streets faintly, in colourful patches of land and as it did so most erratically, the light bulbs' metallic sizzling filled the air. The empty parking lot as he walked through it, realising for some of the first times how vast it had always been with no vehicles in sight, smelled of yesterday's gas and and crunched leaves.

He slipped into the art class hidden in his scarf, hoping to go unnoticed for a while. The pale lights flickered as he came in. The main room was messy, filled with crumpled clothes on hangers, scissors, sewing threads and needles abandonned on the floor. In the closest corner of the room, an already decrepited and overburdened Christmas tree stood in a log, crooked and looking close to turning to dust. If the initiative of celebrating and bringing joy to this place was somewhat honourable, it sadly remained a classroom, which only difference to before was that it was presently crowded with Christmas wooden men and angel hair.

Old plastic cups of cold coffee slopped on the tiling looked much like a student's improvisation of a contemporary art initiative due the same day. Near the curtains was a button box, as well as elastic bands and diverse pieces of tissue whose use was unknown, even to him who actually worked in this place. Stepping in there was an experience; there was no knowing where one might be swept off to. Or alternatively, what he would lay his hands onto. But, however a changing landscape this place was, he could say he knew how to navigate through this crafty jungle. He had tamed wild beasts and learnt to master the natural elements in here, especially the orange juice machine.

He filled his drink, then his stomach and threw his coat helter-skelter as he walked up to the windows, opening them despite the freezing wind. Rightly so, he expected that someone would complain about the temperature drop and he would let them. But he felt too warm too quickly, shedding layer after layer even in the winter before perplexed eyes. But if that meant he wasn't ever in a bit of a predicament against the cold, he was also keen to pick up snowballs with bare hands for others, offer his coat outdoors and do the late sprints to the grocery shop at night and he had come to like being helpful in that manner. It hadn't always been the case.

Since it seems the place was still deserted, he would do as he pleased and with some luck, no one would come intrude on the next minutes. Actually, he was quite sure. Something in the way the blinds had been left half open at this hour in the morning and in the hurriedly cleaned paintbrushes in the sink he had passed by, he felt someone must have come home late yesterday. On tables worn down by felt pens marks were sewing machines, more hangers, coils of unwrapped wire, desk lamps and glue guns drowning in their own glue, having met their doom at their own expenses.

Finding shelter in the overstocked backroom, he took notice of the few packages on the window ledge and gave it a nod of acknowledgement. Good, someone in their group had refilled their stocks again. Rochalizo began looking for his stuff. In a cardboard box with his name on it, he found the patterns he had used to cut the right shape in the clothes as well as a quick pencil sketch of a bunch of pants and skirts on their model. He trailed his fingers on the edge of the wooden shelters distractedly. He liked being there. This little corner, safe from prying eyes was his favourite spot. Sitting on the floor, his back pressed to the wall, he unfolded the sheet which described the school's instructions on their project. He had lost count of how many times he had read these devilish paragraphs. Coming across a certain topic being addressed, he bit his lip.

"Hellooo?"

Rochalizo straightened up, his sleepy state heightening his surprise. He hadn't heard the footsteps and the door opening, absorbed in his tedious reading. He was surprised his group was already up, the leftover stuff having him convinced they had worked overtime and would compensate by showing up in the afternoon only. If possible, he would've wished for some additional peace. He didn't think particularly ill of them. However, as much as his tiredness still loomed above him like a dark cloud, as much as he hated mornings and as much as they were more friendly acquaintances than real friends, he didn't think any interactions would go well in the present moment.

The voice called again. Then, the sounds of footsteps grew closer until the face of a girl appeared in the restricted passageway. Her straight blond hair covered half her face as she leaned in towards him.

"Hello Mr. Grumpy, no need to hide if you don't want to talk!"

Rochalizo let out a small snort and ruffled his own hair. He had resigned himself to talk anyway and make an effort to be more good-humoured. It was Friday and the more he would forget about how he didn't want to be there, the more work they would get done and perhaps even finish early.

"What are you trafficking here again? Come to the front!"

The boy dusted off his pants and followed her to the main place again. He gazed across the room, feeling the cold air blowing in and the breeze stirring up the badly glued posters and drawings on the walls.

"Am I not getting insulted for cooling off the room in December?", he taunted her.

His teammate laughed, shrugging his remark away as she settled on top of a table, spreading her long legs and black boots on two chairs. She looked like she was in a good mood; although this having been a fun ride, they were all relieved it was coming to an end. And seeing that their efforts and sleepless nights were paying off was the most gratifying part.

"I'm used to you now, see, I'm keeping a double coat on whenever I gotta join you somewhere".

Rochalizo smirked and still went to close the window. He then sat on the table which faced her. The ceiling lights were almost too dazzling in this spot, which made him feel like he was sitting in a surgery room; especially on days like today, where the intrusive lights transgressed the darkness, inflicting on the mind a curious form of time lag. He rubbed his eyes scrupulously.

"So what were you doing?

— Making sure we've gone through all the steps again...", he replied sighing, "I'm pretty sure we've forgotten something but I can't put my finger on it, y'know?"

He bit his lip again and his teammate nodded understandingly. She seemed to be thinking the same as she explained she also felt that anxious feeling grip onto her sometimes, under the impression they had missed some detail or not met a specific expectation.

"At least I'm somewhat glad that I'm not the only one who's feeling this way, but I really can't tell what it is... We're pretty much done aren't we?

— Yes, that's the very goal of us meeting now by the way. We're finishing off things. Yes, yes, already", she added, trying to hold back her laughter before a abashed Rochalizo who was whispering to himself an 'already'?

The boy massaged his head, feeling stupid. Suddenly, he wasn't so sure he wanted it to end there. He had had the knowledge in mind that within months of hard labour, it would end here. And yet it felt too abrupt now. And he felt like it missed something; could he have put more heart into it? Could he have formed stronger bonds with his teammates? He hadn't had the time to create opportunities for all that and he somewhat had regrets now...

He kept silent for a while, listening to her and how she had woken up and found her email box infested of email recommendations from many of their teachers. The thought made him instantly anxious and he shared with her a few words of sympathy; he esteemed himself glad he rarely ever read his own emails. Getting out her phone, she read to him a few of them: some being traditional praises and wishes of good luck, some included respectable advice and a last portion of them almost sounded like threats, concealed in the form of the expression of the high expectations they had for them.

"Urgh... This one is the worst... It's from you-know-who...

— Oh I think I know who...

"'Hello, to the three of you. Please don't forget to add the last litte details today and to ignore the bigger ones. It'd be too late to go back to war. Remember that a lot is expected of you this year, but I trust that with my teachings, you will do what's wise and honour this school', that's what Ms. Dawson wrote me in her email.

— Oh... This is the worst so far... But I assume, If Ms. Dawson said it, then her holy word is law", commented Rochalizo, amused.

"She speaks to the faithful on behalf of her supreme divinity. We were chosen.

— Yet you didn't bow before her and uttered an Amen? You're so full of sin!

— Aaaah, how can I ever be repented?"

— What kind of bullshit are you two talking about?", another voice exclaimed from the threshold, laughing.

They turned around to meet their other teammate's eyes. The newcomer leaned against the wall, arms folded over herself confidently. Her short brown hair tucked behind sunglasses on the top of her head and behind her ears revealed a clear face and freckles which twisted, leaving space for a mischievous smile.

Rochalizo lied, saying he couldn't remember the train of thought and brought them back on the topic of their project. He admitted struggling to find a common sense of humour with this one, although finding her quite nice. She was one of those people whose seriousness deflected the jokes people threw at her, so it had made him reluctant to share some with her since. But despite this, they got along well and he appreciated her for her motivation and good monitoring skills. It had saved them from the general chaos of not knowing where to start many times.

"First of all, is it you who stayed late at the atelier yesterday?", asked Rochalizo getting up again to open the crate which contained all their precious creations.

The newcomer joined them and sat at the empty table, nodding, seemingly proud of herself. Little dark bags circled the rim of her eyes.

"Sure it was me! I've sewn the missing chains and ribbons on the pants and skirts. Also, the jacket needed a better zipper.

— That's amazing! I wouldn't have thought about that!"

Rochalizo and the other looked at each other in awe, admirative of her work. The boy even felt guilt to some extent. He had had his part in the project but whatever task he was given or however hard he worked, he was never congratulated as much. Call it jealousy on his behalf, but he would've wished to have a special gift of accuracy or creativity too, to be this efficient or talented. He would've liked to get praised the way she was. The feeling of being needed by people was addictive.

They chatted for another short while before resuming the last supervising. The first one hung all clothes on hangers and examined each cloth, searching for potential holes or faulty parts, pieces too easily torn which could use some reinforcements. He stood no far away, checking measurements with this measuring tape which, it had been mentionned many times already — a joke at his expense — amounted to a total of three times his height. The other went straight to the backroom to fetch some of the last accessories they ought to add to their creations.

Rochalizo put down his tape and examined a lacy dress. They had forgotten to add a hem to the other sleeve here, the collar should normally be thicker and the front part less see-through. Reluctantly, he went back to the desk and carried the sewing machine with him, the weight of it had him stumble for each step he took. Switching it on, he waited for its mechanism to start whining, but nothing happened. He gave a little knock on its side, then began shooking it more violently. He was trying punches when his blond teammate came over and stated that it was broken.

"I don't know how it happened but it didn't work yesterday. You should try another one. We don't have three for nothing".

However, Rochalizo tried them all on and none worked. At this point, he thought he would push all the devices off the table, a vengeance for getting on his nerves. The brown-haired girl came to check on him, alarmed by his racket and tried them all too. When they came to the conclusion they were all broken, Rochalizo crushed his hand in his face. Her comrade readjusted the sunglasses on her head and sighed, then departed with a desperate 'I need coffee' and went straight for the coffee machine.

The first girl sat with a cross Rochalizo and mouthed under her breath.

"If we were in a play right now we'd be calling it a sabotage..."

Rochalizo nodded mushily, thinking all he could do to revoke this seemingly incoming bad day was to go home and go back to sleep. He hadn't had time to cuddle a lot with Suoh anyway last night.

"Why isn't it working?!"

This time, it was almost a scream, foaming with rage. Their teammate had grabbed the device and shook it fiercly, quite the sight and interaction; it made her look like a cop in the middle of interrogating a pretty tough criminal who had sworn off on some oath they wouldn't speak a word. While letting their friend come to blows with the fickle engine, Rochalizo and the girl exchanged a somber look.

"See... This is why I keep saying the art department needs more money...", he muttered.

The other nodded.

"Pff... Keep on dreaming star-gazer. They won't give us one penny. Cause after all... We have hands! We can sew all this by ourselves!", retorted the brown-haired girl who came back with her hair messy from the fight she had put up and an empty cup.

Besides him, his other friend's panic was all but concealed. Rochalizo scratched the back of his head. He wanted to complain with her and trash-talk the academy for founding some faculties too much and discriminating others, but he didn't wish to put the group's spirits down in doing that. There had been enough stress to go through these past months and they needed some reassurance that it all would come to fruition. That was counter-intuitive talk to him but he chose to look at the brighter side for once.

"I know you were spoofing them, but... I could still sew them myself...

— What?! No! You're not! We're reporting this immediately and they'll lend us another one. I bet not everyone in their group is using them right now!

— Or I could still text the class and see if someone can bring theirs", suggested the other girl.

— The raw project is due today at 3 PM though. No time to get used to another machine either", Rochalizo insisted, curling one of his strands between two fingers, "I could do it. I don't mind".

The others kept silent. He settled the matter by going and getting the sewing box. He sat down comfortably on top of the desk and took out the needle. The two girls maintained that he should not have to go through the pain of doing that manually, but to that he replied that they could go charge a complaint and they would see who did it faster.

The first one found the terms acceptable and rushed to exit the room. The girl with the blond hair however, emphasised that it would take at least five hours, something which, with a professional device, would be solved in a matter of one quarter of the time, surely less. But Rochalizo shrugged.

"I'm not so sure, but I think I can sew quite fast. I had to knit a beanie overnight for someone once, because they kept catching colds".

She smiled, her face tilting to the right, charmed by the attention.

"That's actually kind of you...

— Hey, "actually"?! The hell does that mean?!"

His teammate gestured a vague sign that she was kidding and left laughing. She got back to work too, scissors in her hands and a safety pin in her mouth, she set to cutting the protruding threads of a purple pullover. Rochalizo cleared his mind and focused on his finger movements; he could move them fast if he repeated the movement properly and didn't get his links tangled with other ones. He spent what must have been a long time in this state of extreme concentration, so much so that when he took a look outside his little bubble, the small blades of glass of the garden outside the window basked in the first lights of the day. And besides him were a tiny industrial sandwich and a hard candy bar, which bore on top of a them a 'thank you!!' note.

OoOoO

"Really I didn't think much of you. I thought 'this boy looks like a moron but he has a cool fashion style so it might be good to be paired up' and I was right!

— That's the kind of person you thought I was? That's terrifying!"

The little group leant against the wall, prattling joyfully. With the end of the fourth step (one left!) of the project and its forthcoming validation, that was some weight off their consciences. All thoughts flew back to a few nights where he they had lain in bed, unable to step out of the infernal loop. But they could finally relax and take a real mental break, unbothered by questions of what still needed to be done.

The afternoon had ended. They were free.

Rochalizo had angled his head backwards; he engaged in the conversation happily, but his mind wandered. If he listened to himself, he wished for a terribly long nap.

"No but seriously Rochalizo, thank you so much. That was thoughtful of you. If you hadn't, we might have had to leave it as it was. It's crazy that everyone was using them at the moment.

— Yeah, I guess we weren't the only ones a little short on the timing..."

Her brown-haired teammate raised a big cup upwards. It was already half-empty.

"But they had coffee!"

She laughed. Rochalizo's lips corners stretched in a sneer and he stretched his left leg towards the remaining patch of light in the room, the last of the day. In the nearby garden, a rusty fence closed, blown by the wind, chasing away the crow which kept watch on it and croaked every so often. Another gust of wind howled against the window.

"I really can't believe we're done", said someone after a while, "It feels like we've started yesterday. But I also wouldn't go through all of this pain again".

Their other one earnestly agreed, bopping her head so had it must have been clobbering.

"Yep. I want both of you to know that I've often thought of tearing apart all our outfits because I wasn't satisfied enough.

— You can't!", Rochalizo blurted out, somewhat panicked at the thought she was still in position to commit such an atrocity, "We would've done it all for nothing!

— Oh I know you two would've killed me... But I still feel that way. I'm not sure what we did will be fine... And... Innovative enough..."

The students' gazes directed towards their clothing pieces. Under the white artificial lights, frozen in the stillness of the atelier at that time of the day, they looked like articles in vitrines or pieces of the latest trend exposed on a promontory at a fashion show. From a more sensitive standpoint, they could also have been the remnants of an artistic performance, abandonned by their interpreter.

"I think we should be fine...", Rochalizo said, "I like them".

The group silently concured.

"Oh! And by the way", said the one of the girls as she downed the last of her coffee, "I just remembered what we forgot to do".

Rochalizo and the other tensed. It would be too late by now.

"The model, guys!

— Oh! Of course!

— We're so dumb!

— We are...

— But aren't we quite late on that?", Rochalizo asked, uneasily, "I've seen groups who already had their models chosen months ago"

— Well... If we can't find anyone, you can still pose for us, Rochalizo", her friend teased, a snarky smile on her face.

"I... I couldn't. That'd be so awkward..."

He pictured himself on the catwalk, all floodlights directed at him to showcase every aspect of his body. People who would scrutinise at every of his flaws and point them out to the entire team. He could feel himself sweat nervously as he would be asked to redo a pose or reenact a movement he would've done in shameful clunkiness. The distress they could all be able to see on his face, more akin to lost child than a model. The sensation of not knowing where to hide and the attention so outrightly tight he would forget how to breathe naturally and wonder if each step he made seemed natural to an outward observer. Imagine their thoughts and rethink each movement towards satisfying their third person view on him and comfort their expectations. Feeling his heart pulsating from all parts of his body and his mouth twisting.

He shook his head. Why was he thinking through this scenario now? He would never volunteer.

He brought his attention back to what her friend was saying. The starting point and topic were unclear but he rapidly picked up what was being discussed. She proceeded to explain how they still had time to do so since the photoshoot would take place in two weeks. However, they couldn't afford to drag on because some of the formalities still took time. Formalities like paperwork on the model's informed consent, the model's confidentiality agreement and their wilingness to have photos of them broadcasted on the Internet. Ideally, they should find someone within the next few days or they'd begin to truly, this time, be short on time.

"Any of you knows someone who would want pose?

— Hmm...", said the first friend, lost in thoughts.

"Preferably someone super good-looking in order to really highlight the clothes", their other friend added.

Rochalizo bit the inside of his cheek. Obviously he knew someone. Whenever discussing beauty, attractiveness and good looks, he did think of him. He had been unsure before if he was biased regarding how he viewed his esthetic appearance and how he reckoned that there couldn't be found a single person more enticing than him; this dumb and crazy bias shared by all lovers. But as their lives had jumbled and clasped around each other, becoming increasingly more revealing to the other, he had fully noticed some things. Be it the way Suoh caught people's eyes, the way they were kinder to him for looks and granted him additional courtesies... But also the way he got into trouble with some of them who leered at him and thought they had a right to touch him. It seemed his beauty was to be globally noticed and lauded — although the very one concerned would often deny it.

They had argued a few times on the topic and while Suoh was technically right about there being no concept of objective beauty, Rochalizo had countered with the idea that the sociological tendency still had people agree to classify a certain type as 'more attractive' than others. He vaguely remembered what he had said past this point because Suoh had brought up something else. But he fit the general standards and contemporary canons of beauty, he imagined without too much difficulty that he could be a great choice as a candidate.

Another reason he was taking this into account was because he could be quite outgoing with the people he had just met and felt at ease on a stage or in any setting which prompted that he would be the center of the attention. He didn’t escape the long-term attention, but Suoh tended to ward off from one which would be constant, concerned with putting everyone forth even for a short while and feeling tired himself after a while. But he didn't mind being in the spotlight nor being stared at while he talked. Given the circumstances he would understand the need to be the only one looked upon and might not mind. And as he was relatively comfortable in his own body, it would be optimal in case he would be asked to exhibit a certain attitude while posing, act out somewhat in poses or perhaps show a little sensuality — good lord he would die.

"I might know someone...", he started off again, slightly embarrassed.

The group leaned in his direction, eyes filled with hope.

"You do? Who is it? Tell us, now!

— Um... A friend...

— That would be fantastic! Do you think they'll be down?

— Wait! Boy or girl?"

Rochalizo snorted and carefully replied:

— I think they could be interested but I'll ask them first. I can't give any final answers right now".

The two girls whispered things among themselves, sharing indiscrete words with no regards for Rochalizo still sitting one foot away from them. To conclude the somewhat confidential talk, one of them nodded in approuvement.

— I want to check out that handsome...

— Me too! I want to see what potential you see... Do they have Instagram?"

That last remark made him uneasy. His fingertips brushed against his phone case, in the front pocket of his hoodie. He could search for his name for them in the app... But...

"No", he heard himself saying, his tone unflinching, striving to be convincing, "It's not the social-media addict type like the lot of you“.

Which was, as a rule, true for the most part, therefore it wasn't like he was lying. Suoh had an email box like everyone did, an app for convenient fast texting and a small Youtube channel, almost uncharted from the public eye, where he filmed little walks in nature, plants and trees with interesting commentaries. He could talk for hours on end about plants' history and their use in modern pharmacology — he was actually well versed in such an incredible number of topics that you couldn't help wondering where he had learnt all of this — and well-being. Rochalizo hadn't looked into it in a while but when he did, he made sure to leave a nice comment.

His teammates' disappointment was palpable. He felt a hint of guilt slip into his mind and for a moment, weighted whether he should try looking for it anyway or simply shrug it off. Guilt for what, in fact? He was doing nothing wrong.

"D-Don't look at me like that... You'll see him in flesh if he agrees to come. That's much better than those overly filtered pics.

— You're in art school! You should know they have artistic value. Looks like someone's just salty because they don't look good in those filters.

— You want me to slap you?"

They laughed again. Rochalizo collected his stuff and threw the remains of his lunch in the bin. As he pondered what to do with the candy bar, the two girls approached him again and he hid it hastily in his pocket. They thanked him, showed their excitement profusely.

"You've saved the day twice, you realise it?", said the girl with the sunglasses, smirking mischievously at him, "You go and get some rest, genius".

Those simple words made him blush. He did his best to hide a half smile behind his scarf as he put it on.

"Yeah yeah".

Because they were to be staying a while longer to do some tidying and bring the clothes back home for the following days, he left them behind. They waved at him cheerfully, even got out in the hallway to keep waving, which was something their usual laziness guarded them against.

"Have a nice week-end Rochi!"

Rochalizo waltzed backwards, moving his mittened-hand back, feeling great about himself. A ready-made sentence popped out in his mind; 'He had showed them'. Showed who? He didn't think that had been aimed peculiarly at his two teammates, but rather, covered something much larger. He wasn't sure who that encompassed. But he sure had.

OoOoO

Through the mucky, wet window, the world was a dance. The grey streets and their passersby swirled along with the dead leaves, carried away through the windy drizzle and faded away slowly in a cloud of lacklustre hues. Alleys were no different, stretched into long shapeless strokes until the lampposts lit the day still clear and their joyous balls of lights joined and got onto the train, journeying on the panes. Rochalizo yawned meekly, his cheek squashed against his wrist, weary eyes looking but not seeing the fluorescent street signs and its traffic. His life seemed to be summed up by sleepy states in diverse public transportation these days. He sniffled in his scarf, hoping he hadn’t caught a cold and buried himself deeper into the cloth. Only by some strange miracle, did he managed to hear the voice announcing his stop.

He went further up the street, passed by an old bakery, the local swimming pool, as his home keys dangled from his fingers, then the travel agency which spread on both sides of the silent road. The ancient bricks of facades and brown leaved bushes blended into the greyish weather which would soon be swallowed by night. Some early Christmas decorations which flashed into the littered-with-garbage alleys had been hung by their ends to roofings' beams. Meanwhile, the guzzles of wind snored persistently around him and through the plastic storefronts supporting their signs as leaves got carried away into open sewers and a hooded silhouette leaned onto a cafe's wooden fore wall and crushed their third cigarette butt. Exiting the end of the road at full speed, a busy motorcyclist took the left path and vanished in loud motor noises. Rochaizo kept his eyes to his feet as he walked by blindly, automatically. The mundanity of the streets sometimes made him want to throw up.

However, walking up the stairs of his old building, he felt lighter for every step he took; crossing the dark long corridor and fixing his eyes on that warm light which spilled out from the threshold drew a little smile from him. It wasn't much but this place was rife with personality. The home lightings shed some light on the brown daft doormat Suoh had bought last month. 'Yay, it's you', it said and it made him roll his eyes each time he spent enough time there to notice it anew, but he hated it less than he pretended he did. Especially on exhausting nights like these where he found himself longing for a warm, soothing presence and a few valuing words which he could be given by no one else. Without further ado, he put his keys into the lock, knocked briefly and came in, ditching his boots away. His coat he hurriedly hung by the wrong end, devil-may-care way, impatient as he was to shed his heavy artillery (see also: winter outfit) and gain some more mobility. As soon as he was in, a wave of warm air wrapped around him and he felt relaxed hearing the very homely sounds of their home; the washing machine's little singing sounds, the ruffles of a sofa being flattened and another one he didn't hear often. In this moment, the TV blast some cartoonish jumps and death sounds. Eyebrow and interest piqued, he washed his hands and went straight for the living room.

"Hello!", a voice called, sweet and enthusiastic, yet the following words were marked by a bit of anxiety, "With you in a second!"

Rochalizo peered curiously from the corner of the wall and lay his eyes on what revealed to be quite the cute sight; on the unmade couch in the living-room, Suoh sat cross-legged, barefoot, a bohemian headscarf tied across his brow and his hair in a messy high bun. He wore a blanket around his shoulders above a patchwork shirt and long layered brown cloth trousers. His body and arms leaned towards the TV, extending the gamepad towards it, hoping — keyword — to make it more responsive. He bit on his lip, unblinking and slightly swung his legs up and down to manage the adrenaline. Entirely focused on his character's moves, his pupils traced short round trips in their eye sockets.

He was playing Mario Bros on the other's old Wii, battling against one of the bosses. Rochalizo folded arms over himself. His smile was widening as he shook his head slowly, not quite believing he was witnessing him finishing a game and conspicuously winning what’s more...

"I'll leave you to it if you're busy!", he proclaimed, amused and left, heading for the bathroom, dragging feet.

"No, no, I promise. I'm done!", Suoh shouted back, the gaming-panic raising in his voice once more.

The flat smelled of hot soup, scented oils — perhaps mud too — and painting, he thought to himself. A strange combination and that in itself wasn't so usual here if one looked at their numerous opposite interests. Those little disgusting things which brought them joy made this house seem like a wreaking-havoc-tornado mess. Other times, it was what made this house a home. But those particular smells, creamy mashed smells of sunchoke and leek as well as this odd smell of beetroot oil also alerted him of the change in season, in case the outside scenery and its host of putrid smells and brown and grey shades hadn’t been worked hard enough to have him notice.

Rochalizo opened the valve and flushed some water on his face in the bleak bathroom. The bulb had been dysfunctional since last week but none of them had had the time to take care of it until now. He soaked a cotton pad in cleanser and removed his eyeliner and eyeshadow in small strokes. He was just finished when he heard the famous winning sound effect from the living room, a cry of victory and then, the sound of something falling to the floor in a thud and fast, fast, running footsteps. He tensed in wait, nervously holding back that happy thrill and didn't turn around, pretending he was still busy. He had expected them but somehow, could never manage to predict how overjoyed they made him feel; a pair of arms wrapped around his chest and held him tight, their will to contain all of him at once made obvious. Lips pressed hearty kisses against the nape of his neck while he felt the bony hands clamp all over him. Rochalizo's legs grew as mellow as marshmallow and soon enough, his entire body had become limp; his flushed face fell on the other's shoulder. It made Suoh giggle and tighten his hold so they both wouldn't trip. He had learnt his lesson from that time they had both slipped on the bathroom’s wet floor. Chased away from their spot, Suoh's lips conquered the cheek that was closest, kissing one of the red bangs in the way.

"Days are too long without you...", he complained in a whisper, close to his ear.

"Mmmh...", Rochalizo confirmed in a small whine.

He freed his cheek delicately, turning around in his arms. Then, bumped his forehead against the other's and made the bridge of their noses rub. Suoh's shoulders in his hands brought a relief he knew he underestimated each time he left. Asking teasingly, but genuinely, Suoh's kind voice breathed:

"Are you okay? Tired?

— Just really really exhausted", the boy mumbled.

His lids closed half way on his eyes and a lazy smile carved his lips. The warmth of Suoh's body, his affection, his attention, he wanted it all. Brushing his mouth against his, he stole a long feisty kiss from Suoh which didn't take long for him to rob back. For long minutes they kissed, fingers knitted together in their respective hair. His nose whizzed quietly. It was hard to get enough; of those tingles induced when the beloved mouth opened and left a lingering feeling of watery heat, of that tenacy, meaning if he slipped a little too fast, he immediately came back for a stronger kiss and a narrower hold. When their clinch died out in intensity, Suoh's hands rubbed the other's small back vigourously. His eyes brimmed in protective fondness.

"Fancy a tea? And we have eggplant lasagna too tonight".

Rochalizo nodded sleepily and tagged along, following closely in his tracks. He still held Suoh's hand.

"You're telling me you're good at video games and cooking, now?", he chortled, "Is there some secret life class you're attending?

— I've ordered it, you crafty sneerer", replied Suoh, kissing the top of his head as he led them to their small kitchen, "I'm still as bad of a cook as you are.

— Do you remember when we almost poisoned the plumber?

— Oh my word... I do, but not happily..."

The boy's giggle lasted even as he sat around their small bar table. Watching Suoh boiling some hot water for the tea, he wagged his legs from the height as he patiently waited. He took his time to admire his slenderness from the back, feeling oddly blessed after few unpleasant sights he had caught in town. The view of certain things which did not fulfill his sense of aesthetic could get his spirits low or instill in him feelings of disgust varying in intensity. But at present, he granted with a soft look those little details, from the vapour which absconded from the teapot, Suoh's bare feet on the tiles and the chain of his pendant turned upside down, the porcelain cups which gently capsized before going still, to the yellow light on the pans drying in the plate rack and the pulled-back ginger curtains which opened up on the dark street and the neighbour's balcony's disordered chairs. In the gurgle of the kettle, the creaks of cupboards being pryed opened and the rustle of plant sacks, he felt soothed.

"There's only the Indian Masala blend left... Oh! Or mint tea!"

— Mmh? Oh, Indian please".

Suoh stopped gratting at his lips with his index and emitted a little approval sound. He sank the tea bags into their fuming cups and brought them. Meanwhile, Rochalizo had got up and set the table up, scooping large tablespoons of the dish into their plates.

"So how was your day?", inquired Rochalizo as he shoved a large portion of cheese into his mouth, as soon as he saw Suoh climbing up the chair facing him, "Looks like you stayed home".

The latter leaned his face against his folded arms. He watched Rochalizo with such a cute smile, he could not prevent his from hatching. He gave him a little kick in the knee with his own.

"Answer".

Suoh's eyelashes fluttered as he laughed. Sitting high up like this, at such a narrow table, there wasn't much space for stretching one's legs; he didn't move his knees but on the contrary, pushed them against Rochalizo's to win some room.

"I plead guilty. I had my day off. Almost!

— But studying week hasn't started already, correct?

— Yes, it'll start much later. Today was dedicated to a conference I wasn't particularly interested in, so I did some repassing of environmental law", he said, sticking his fork's tines into a steaming slice and drawing infinity signs on top of it.

Rochalizo nodded from time to time, his mouth too full to comment for now. He kept his eyes on him even as he emptied his drink in one go. The still hot pan in the sink uttered a complaining hiss as a droplet of water fell on top of it from the faucet.

"I went walking in the park too. The weather was so nice. And oh!" — he suddenly stirred on his spot and shifted on the edge of his seat, dislodging the pink cushion he sat on— I found some mimosas! And some red rosemary! It's insane that everyone passes by them without looking. I'd never seen any around here!"

As he thrillingly explained how amazing the scent they exhaled was and how he could transfer some roots in a pot, he made a move a little too broad for their small space and knocked his glass over. Rochalizo opened his mouth to mutter a warning. Before Suoh's extended palm could ever fill the distance, he jumped out to reach for it and caught it before it tumbled off the table.

"Be careful!", he said, looking quite awake by now.

Suoh hid his mouth behind his two palms, still processing what had just happened in such a short time. The other chuckled at his worried face.

"You got a little overexcited, didn't you?"

It earned a smile from Suoh who nodded and thanked him. He watched him sit back in place and carefully verify where his legs and arms came resting, wary as not to cause another accident. His self-consciousness made Rochalizo soft; it mustn't always be easy to be so clumsy with those legs and arms and so, he shifted to his side all objects likely to be knocked over. Suoh gladly spread on the table like spilled sauce and Rochalizo then encouraged him to resume talking about his day for he wished to forget about his and be entertained. His days were always so full, he got fascinated at how many activities he could fit in a regular 9 to 5.

"After the park, I ran into someone from uni with whom I never got the chance to talk more, so we had a snack together. They've opened a very nice snackbar near the mall, they serve delish Pakistanese food. Then, um... A classmate called me from the conference and tried to get me to come but I was already off home studying again. Also the Christmas shop at the hotel was open so I figured I'd drop by. I bought a few things for this year's festivities!"

Rochalizo's nodding paused and his fork fell out of his fingers, upset.

"You waited for me to go ice skating, yeah?"

Suoh smiled and pressed a hand on his arm.

"Let's go tomorrow after a field trip to the bank. Don't worry, I know you wanted to go together. I haven't forgotten.

— You had better not".

For an answer, he didn't get the protesting he'd have expected but only gentleness. Suoh's fingers on his forearm had begun playing with the tiny hair on it, stroking them slowly, messying lengthwise with their natural inclination. Rochalizo's eyes lowered on the hand. His cold palm on him felt like it weighed a ton although it was barely lain. Once again, he moved his legs in merry excitement, keeping his expression low on the table so the other wouldn't pick up on the foolish smile he was drawing out of him. Both chairs creaked and a while they were both comfortable not saying anything, smiling at or about each other.

But for cold aubergine gets rapidly inedible, he stuffed his cheeks with the last of of his dish, scrapping on the sides of his plates with his knife. After he had drunk at least half his tea, he moved out of his seat, shifting Suoh's hand as late as possibly doable and gathered his plate and cutlery althogether. Reflexively, he put his hand out to seize Suoh's too but his hand stopped mid-air upon realising it was still almost full. He didn't bother hiding the mild disquiet in his voice.

"You've eaten next to nothing..."

Suoh shoved his remark off with a glib tone of voice.

— Ah... That's because I've talked more than you".

As a matter of fact, he wasn't in the wrong, but he had used a certain tone he seldom talked with and in most cases, it was for hiding things away or making up excuses. He couldn't lie.

— But will you finish it?

— Don't bother. I'm not that hungry tonight..."

Rochalizo shook his head, wearing a hollow rictus now, a very indicting one.

"You fed me the same lie yesterday..."

He put his plate back on the table and climbed on the footrest of Suoh's chair, brought a hand closer to stroke his shoulder gently. When Suoh turned around towards him, surprised, he tentatively cupped his face.

"Come on, what's the matter?", he added, in a softer voice.

Suoh's eyes met his hesitantly. He cracked up a sheepish smile as a little air was exhaled from his mouth.

"Some existential nonsense, like you'd say.

— I don't care, I want to hear it.

— ... Alright but not now. In a bit".

Rochalizo agreed to that silently. Forcing out people's troubles generally made them feel worse and there was nothing more wrong than feeling great about yourself for squeezing the facts out of someone for the sake of being a 'good friend' giving advice. He wished he had learnt that one sooner, but at least now, he knew. Having nothing left to say, he lay a kiss on Suoh's cheek and cleared the table. Suoh kept still a moment from the high chair, hands between his legs, watching him with sweet eyes and exited the kitchen.

The dishes didn't take long but perhaps it was also his fault for not cleaning them as meticulously as he should have and drying them the bare minimum. Either way it wasn't something the other begrudged him, for he was also terrible at that task but in another way; he claimed having sensitive skin against hot water and therefore, washed the dishes with freezing cold water, stowing them still greasy. He suspected it was also laziness occasionally. Mentally reacting to those thoughts, he shrugged. As long as they no longer tasted the same... None of them was a cleaning maniac and that was for the better. With water still dripping out of his fingers, he went to open the fridge and studied its contents. A disgruntled pout made his way to his face and expressed all the death thoughts he was experiencing just now. His voice rose, sufficiently loud.

"Did you eat the last of the cake?

— Yes, sorry!", shouted Suoh's apologetic voice from the living-room, yet not sorry enough for his taste, "But we still have stewed spinach or rhubarb-quinoa shortbread.

— Are you serious right now?!

— What? They're good!"

Rochalizo sighed and stored his dessert plate back into the cupboard. Suoh's head was tilted to the left as he watched him join him and settle grumpily on the couch next to him.

"Grocery shopping. Tomorrow. Together. I'm starving", he said to his intention.

His stone-cold face made Suoh giggle.

"You just ate.

— Starving for sweet things, that's different. But I guess you wouldn't know... Or perhaps you would! Why don't you eat your cauliflower cheesecakes or whatever shit those are if they are /so/ good?!"

The other looked indignant and made a point of protesting his heart out, listing all kinds of weird, obscure vegetables one only heard once in a lifetime.

"You just haven't looked properly. I bought tons of sweet tofu and humus with blinis and jelly cardoon and manioc—

— Full offense Suoh, but I hate all of your stuff. Those are disgusting. Rabbits wouldn't eat them".

At this poor comeback, Suoh's laugh grew in intensity and suddenly, he couldn't stop laughing. He held onto the other's shoulder so he wouldn't collapse out of the couch. Rochalizo's eyebrow arched in renewed irritation and surprise.

"Ha! You... You say that... But it doesn't prevent you from blending all of my stock for your beauty skincare creams! And afterwards you smell like those 'disgusting' veggies!

— Hey! I don't!", objected Rochalizo whose face had turned a little red.

He bluntly turned away from him, pretending he was sulking. Showing he didn't buy that, Suoh's arms circled his waist gently as a last whispery giggle ushered his throat.

"You know it's true, I saw the cosmetics in the bathroom. And it's not my fault if some have a strong smell... Although not a bad one for me..."

Rochalizo sniffled vexingly, not so ready to admit he had, in fact, digged through Suoh's collection of strange unedible veggies. But the worse was that he wondered what people must have thought now... That he lived in a gutter in a country bumpkin's farm? And he had thought those things with complicated names were pretty much odourless or would be hidden by the honey and the fruit he put in it... To learn that Suoh had let him go to places while drenched in weird plant smells and had not said a thing made him quite unhappy. Hell, the moron had probably liked it as he had said.

"Come on, come back here", sweetly simpered Suoh.

But with such a lovely voice, he was winning him over and he probably knew it. Rochalizo turned around. Suoh's face still bore that sheepish smile and him that pout. Holding on to that, he leaned into his arms slowly, acting out an awkward fall of his head on his shoulder, as though still resenting. Then, as he heard Suoh's smile widening, he quit pretending spitefulness and gladly took the embrace that was being offered. Those lips against his skull peppered a few kisses and he unwinded, liking the quiet sounds they were to his ears. Vanishing under the green hair and into the warmth of his neck for the rest of the night sounded like a perfect end to this evening.

His thoughts drifted away, losing coherence as he focused on the beating of Suoh's pulse and his calm, regular breathing. The living-room felt so far in this instant and shapeless colourful footages began moving before his eyes. He was running around happily with Suoh in a mix of familiar areas all merged together in a way which didn't make much sense but that didn't occur to him immediately, not before snapping out of it. They were having fun together doing anything that seemed like a fun idea to his mind, in an order hard to define: holding hands at a cafe which brutally switched to a beach where they chatted, ran through a just-appeared-forest laughing... That seemed like a good dream to fall asleep to, yet...

"And d'you have much to do this week-end?", he nonetheless heard himself saying, plans and ideas for the following days having crossed his tired mind.

"Not really... — the long-nailed hand resumed its gentle scratching in his hair — We could plan for something fun. Something not so disorderly like my day today.

— Totally. You're really the worst at relaxing.

— That's because I don't get enough free time!", protested Suoh, smiling through a half-amused, half-offended air and proceeded to nudge the other brutishly, "Watch your mouth!

— You said you were to blame!", countered Rochalizo, lifting palms up to prove so-called innocence, "It wouldn't happen so much if you didn't fill your timetables to the limit. But... I agree you need more. They make you too busy...", he concluded with another pout in a softer voice.

— I know... I'm going to try getting rid of some things, promise. I could use some me-time..."

That last answer earned a big sneer from Rochalizo. Entertained, he moved his face up to catch Suoh's eyes and his attention. A curious look was returned.

"Did you mean /literal/ me-time?"

Past the short-lived surprise and a half-opened mouth, Suoh began laughing and his hands found Rochalizo's middle to tickle him.

"Idiot!", he articulated between bits of mirth.

Soon the other's bits of laughter and snorting joined his, imploring for him to stop. He tortured him a little while, giggling at how the other's writhed like a worm under his teasings and squalled some 'mercy' in high-pitched cries. By the end, they had both fallen on their backs, breaths heavy and inconsistent. Rochalizo's head lay on his chest and his fiery hair had gotten messier in the one-sided tickle fight.

"In fact, it's not completely dumb", added Suoh to the chaotic silent, his words still cut up by low stamina, "I could use more of /that/ sort of me-time. It's relaxing.

— See?", replied the other, chuckling a bit then looking all smug as though he was stating facts, "Also takes your mind off things. My jokes aren't bullshit.

— Oh! That's very true... The other day I did and my mood drastically improved. Also anytime after, I feel super energised.

— You get energy after?! I just get more laundry and feel like dozing off".

Suoh's giggle echoed through the room, amused by that indignant reaction, as though he had just announced he possessed a very rare and convenient superpower.

— It also gets me laundry, you know. But that's good for you too. It must help you sleep.

— Oh, it really does".

They let the conversation die out a little, eyes fluttering close and enjoying each other. From time to time, the sofa twitched as they shifted a leg or pressed closer and its springs would grind in a small rusty sound. It became evident to Rochalizo's mind that he would still have to get up and get in the shower and the perspective of his skin being in contact to water while Suoh's hot neck was so close was enough discouragement to postpone it for another while.

"And how was your day?, I didn't ask", said the other after what seemed like minutes, picking up the topic again, "You seemed like you needed at least a dinner break before talking about it..."

Rochalizo's head nodded slightly before stirring out of his arms and attempting to clear his thoughts. Important! He had almost forgotten what he really needed to ask!

Repressing a yawn, he sat cross-legged before him and began by saying it had been pretty rough from the get-go with the silent agreement — or perhaps secret strike — of all of their devices. He mentionned the multiple sewing machines breaking down simultaneously and the terrible luck in everyone needing them at the same moment. Also, that piece of clothing a device tore down because of bad maintenance. Rochalizo's funny storytelling made Suoh laugh and he asked how well they were progressing in their project.

"You could say it's alright. It wouldn't have been as fun if two or three slip-ups hadn't occured".

He tried to speak as honestly as he could while not being too serious about it nor pitying their group too much. But Suoh's tendency was kinda in the pitying of people and whether he did it as a way of empathising or being kind, he did not know but he simply smiled and said that his group had made it, that it was now okay when Suoh showed a sad-looking face and rubbed his shoulder.

Months ago, he would oftentimes get angry at that behaviour; he couldn't wrap his mind around the idea that someone would pity him. It had always sounded like mocking in his eyes and he couldn't take any befits from it. Feeling like a victim was something he would gladly not want to feel. But if in the past he'd get angry when Suoh pitied him, he'd also noticed Suoh would look upset when he empathised in his own way: joking around the issue, calling out and hating on whoever had caused the other's problems generally didn't achieve in making Suoh feel better. He would shut off in the worst cases.

It was a lovely thing to be the bystander of their hard-earned common understanding. It had been difficult in the first times, learning how the other worked and at times, walking on eggshells when trying to be genuine, feeling lost and triggering conflicts on purpose then feeling bad, or not triggering them and feeling just as bad. It seemed to him that they had matured enough and learned to show the other the type of support they needed. However, when that behaviour did not come instinctively, they could still understand that behind the other's undesired ways of empathising was an intent of care, always.

And so, when he explained how he had suggested to sew it all by himself, he still got pitied but took no offense, especially when it was followed with a good kiss on the lips.

"So did you really sew it on your own manually?! That must've required a lot of work! I get why you're exhausted now, baby..."

He shrugged the concern away, lowering and raising his eyes in a flash of hair as his wrist flew to the side.

— Yeah well... I was just ready to do it. I couldn't bear the thought of us sending over a shoddy job...

— I get your intention but I'm a bit mad at your teammates for not helping... Fools taking advantage of your kindness..."

Rochalizo's face tore into a smile, then a small laugh.

"Right! The fuckers, we should get them behind the bars"

The other's expression changed, looking as though he pondered if those vitriolic words hid a unpleasant event. Under Suoh's suddenly very worried eyes, Rochalizo quickly rectified with a smile.

"I'm joking!"

Averting his eyes then, he scratched at the back of his neck.

"It's nothing like that. I was really convincing! I told the story of how I fast-knitted your beanie when we were in the mountains this winter.

— Ah yes, that was fast. And so sweet of you. I still treasure that beanie, by the way...

Of course, this dork knew exactly how to make him blush and that wasn't something he planned on stopping. It made him look down for a second, enjoying the compliment and the honour that it was to have made something he could cherish.

— But I hope you didn't tell the whole story", tried Suoh, wincing awkwardly. "It was so stupid that I managed to catch five colds in a row during the whole trip. And mostly because... I ate ice creams in the snow with you to prove a ridiculous point..."

The other shook his head adamantly, holding back a wheeze which he needed to stop right now or he would think back to those moments and it'd take ten minutes for him to stop laughing. It was funny enough to hear Suoh get defensive as he rarely considered his pride but this was on another plane of hilarity. He could still see himself in his pyjamas, feeding his ill treasure ugly soup while Suoh gulped them weakly, wrapped in endless layers of jackets, hidden under thick blankets.

Having resumed, the story of how he sew the piece of clothing back to normal was warmly complimented by Suoh and it made him quite proud; he loved that feeling when it lasted. He also commented on his teammates' appreciations and shared how it made him feel: if he wasn't sure how well he had contributed to the group until now, he did feel that eventually, he had been able to truly help. How they seemed to have developed a more layered point of view of him since today had been nice. Not that he needed people to see all facets for him (that would be a frightening thing), but an insight in seeing him in another light was welcome. Otherwise, he said, he wasn't sure the label they would've assigned him would have been a great one.

At that, Suoh held his hands and swinged them from one side to the other, seizing his attention. He told him he needn't fear others' judgement so much, for he was wonderful. Rochalizo held Suoh's gaze for a bunch of seconds, feelig somewhat emotionally naked and he didn't enjoy that feeling when he couldn't prepare for it and especially in the midst of a fun conversation. One supposed to be without too much hassle.

"You don't have to... Get into that—

— I know! I just... Ok I won't! But let me just say one thing. Should others act terrified all the time, wonder all the time what you're thinking of them? You'd feel bad knowing they can't relax around you, wouldn't you, love? It's the same for them.

— I'm not terrified! Suoh... Just drop it fucking hell", the boy muttered, rolling his eyes and freeing his hands, "I want it off my brain, not even more inside".

This must figure among the things which irritated him the most. He knew Suoh meant well and wanted to help and he appreciated the thought. However, it sometimes was hard to stay appreciative when he didn't take the hint on him not wishing to elaborate on certain topics. For someone who was decently skilled in social situations, Suoh could be completely missing the point and come out of control when it came to identifying what was for others a sensitive topic and having the delicacy not to bring it up again. He could read a room quite well and yet... Feel the need to rectify and underline the implication of that uneasiness wished to be swept away.

At least now, looking into his eyes, he seemed to have understood why he had reacted this way. He tentatively grabbed Rochalizo's hands again and the boy let him, to show he wasn't really angry at him.

"Sorry... You're right. This isn't a good topic for idle prattle..."

The name he etiquetted it made Rochalizo giggle for it was the silliest thing. He could do nothing but forget about Suoh's faux pas in this case; he was the cutest.

"Yeah yeah. I know you'd want to go deep all the time but it's no fun. I just want to have a good time with you and laugh right now".

This was something Suoh could agree on. He nodded and as he did, squeezed his palms in his and clingily leaned his face onto Rochalizo's arms who stretched them so they could hold hands. Rochalizo felt beyond soft of heart at this point. As he shifted to slip one of his legs under his thighs, shifting closer and aiming to cuddle up, he felt something rigid scratch his skin in his pants' pocket.

"Oh! I totally forgot but they also gifted me this to thank me", he said, poking his forehead as he recalled, taking the wrapped candy bar out of his pocket and handing it to Suoh, "Do you want it?"

A large strand of green hair fell over Suoh's brow as he leaned in to examine it in his hand. The blue pupils quivered to the upper corner, likely recollecting memories, unhappy ones, given the coldness that got a hold of his face for a second. Rochalizo knew what this was about; they had been his after all, before they had become Suoh's. But unlike Suoh, he was already over it. The other's face then came back from those gloomy thoughts and distorted into a reluctant, embarrassed look.

"I'd rather you have it since you've worked hard and I didn't do anything to earn it... Plus I know you like them but... Yes, thank you".

He slowly took the candy, as though the other would proclaim he he wanted it back any moment and placed it on his side, on the low table a mere twenty centimeters away. As thanks, he leaned in again to kiss Rochalizo's cheek but when he started withdrewing, the latter held the sides of his face to prevent him from fleeing away and brought Suoh's mouth to his. He kissed his lips bit by bit, his smile broadening as his face got to brush against the other's more and more. Gladly detained, Suoh opened his mouth slightly against his lips, breathing shakily. The feeling of their mouths toying was so enjoyable, he almost wouldn't let him go and Rochalizo almost forget again what he wanted to say.

"Wait... Wait a minute", he giggled against Suoh's lips who tried pulling at his sides when he started going backwards, "I'm not done.

— You started it!"

But even though reluctant, those words had Suoh decide he would behave for a while and he moved away a little, although just a little so they still stood very close and he had an easy acess for any more kisses. His hands snaked around his waist and held him tight. This unwillingness to let him go made Rochalizo snort and he gave him a small kick in the chest before resuming.

"Err... Okay, so... To be fair, it's a huge relief to be done with all of those tedious steps and I feel like the last one is gonna be the most laid-back. 'Cause the last step now is the organisation of the fashion show. But my nerves are gonna blow up! Can you believe there'll be a whole team of professionals involved?! To promote the clothes that /we've/ designed... But... To do that... We still need someone to really highlight the clothes..."

Suoh uttered a series of little sounds as he talked, signifying he was attentive and his entire face had lit up by the time he stopped talking. Rochalizo let silence fill the room so he would understand by himself. Because... Asking so straightforwardly would certainly be a bit awkward.

"That's amazing! I didn't know you'd go so big as to have a catwalk and a production".

Obviously he'd be missing the point he was trying to bring out. Typical Suoh. He took a long breath and gritted his teeth a little.

"Innit? ... We've recruited everyone but... All we're missing is a model..."

Suoh hummed again, listening closely. Rochalizo winced.

"Come to think of it... The clothes would fit you, in my opinion".

Another bit of silence and Suoh still hadn't taken the hint, displaying this dumb smile. How could he have missed that?! He had been so smooth right now!! Was it the result of complimenting him too hard and him getting too used to it?! Rochalizo anchored his eyes into Suoh's, not averting eyes a second to try and get his point across and if he didn't this time, what the fuck. He began again, slowly, cutting out each group of words in an exasperated tone.

"We're looking for someone, and it could be anyone, who'd accept to pose in our clothes. I said I'd ask".

His insistent look seemed to confuse Suoh at first and then, a few seconds later, the blue eyes rounded up. He brought a goofy hand to his thorax in a way of questioning Rochalizo's decision and asking confirmation. Rochalizo'd head tilted to the left and timidly nodded.

"You're asking me?? To do the modelling?

— No, I'm asking the armchair behind you.

— Oh shush!", he giggled and it was his turn to kick him lightly in the chest.

Rochalizo blinked a few times, laughing internally and slowly switched to studying Suoh's face and weighing the chances of him saying yes. From his perspective, none could be as perfect as him for this role, but that opinion would definitely differ from Suoh's own perspective of himself and what he thought he was capable of. Or had time for, in fact, a parameter he hadn't thought of.

Suoh's hands brushed several red strands of hair behind his ear.

"You know... You don't need to sugarcoat things or imply them as if it's embarrassing. It's really not".

— ... Well it can be, I don't know...", muttered Rochalizo, trying to take his own defense.

— With respect to what can it be?", asked Suoh, making fun a tiny bit, "In case I say no?"

The boy's mouth lay gape, taken by surprise and looking so naturally aggrieved, as though shock hadn't given him enough time to cover it with a more nuanced expression. But it did came and very soon, he looked a little less sad and more composed. However, he spoke in a small voice which wasn't apt in hiding his disappointment.

"Is that... Your answer?"

— Oh... Baby!"

Watching him act this way, Suoh let out a laugh and found himself mirroring this very saddened face.

"You should see your face! Don't look so sad...", he breathed to him before crushing him into a tight hug.

"I'm not!! I'm really not! You're just stupid", attempted the other, hardly breathing as he was being held in such a position where his lungs were being congested.

When he let him go, Suoh put some distance between them and leaned against the large armrest, observing Rochalizo's reactions from below. He did seem to like what he was seeing since his lips twitched into a soft smile. Then, he saw Suoh lose his smile and sigh.

"What?!

— I just think it's really kind of you to suggest I do the modelling. Really flattering too. Because you wouldn't ask just anyone, innit?

— That's for sure", replied Rochalizo, looking puzzled regarding where this conversation was now going.

To see how it would unfold, he waited for the other to add something that would give hints as to what his final decision would be, but there was only silence for a moment and a Suoh seemingly lost in thought. Slowly losing his temper as he was forced into waiting, he folded his arms over himself.

"Just say no, okay? Don't pretend you might and then decline.

— I'm not trying to say no", quickly added Suoh and this had Rochalizo's mood improvely instantly again.

— Um alright.. But you know, I'm only asking if you're a fan of the idea by the way. There won't be any audience and this will be a small group, so no hundreds of indiscreete eyes... Y'know it was just an idea. I can... Um, we can totally find someone else.

— But what if I turn out useless?", said Suoh quietly, voice trailing off, a pensive finger on his lips, "I've never done it before and I'm so clumsy..."

For the first time since he had been asked, he was expressing a little insecurity. Understanding at last, the reason for his hesitation, Rochalizo felt better disposed. He shook his head and lay down besides him, between the warm body and the back of the sofa, his eyes watching Suoh with a pride and a kind of love he couldn't possibly contain.

"The way I see it, you could do anything", he said, his hands tracing long circles on his back, communicating as much reassurance as he could, "But no pressure. If you're not really, really into it, then don't".

The eyes facing him closed and he heard him sigh again, although seemingly more at peace this time. Rochalizo reflected briefly on Suoh's words. It was interesting how differently their fears were rooted, he noted. He, was afraid of judgement and in the end, how bad the external gaze would make him feel. Suoh, tended to be afraid of his own pointlessness and in sum, how bad misplaced competence or incompetence could make others feel, a perspective he often failed to understand. He admitted he didn't see the point in being useful all the time and restlesssly being what others needed could easily lead to a burnout. But Suoh often saw farther than him; he had bigger ideas, bigger plans. His efforts must be anything but wasted on a lost cause. For a moment, he kept stroking his back and Suoh relaxed under his touch, content to be spoiled with attention and reaffirmation. When his eyes reopened, they were sparkling of joy and excitement.

"If there's no one else whom I'm stealing the spot, then... I think it'd be an amazing thing to do.

— Are you sure?", said Rochalizo, feeling his chest fill up with butterflies.

Suoh's last little nods made him so happy and excited he thought he'd never be able to stop smiling. He found himself close to suggesting they raised a toast to that but remembered his hair had gotta so greasy it needed to fixed. A toast could be raised later, as they'd say good night. It was still early.

OoOoO

Wild water springed down the shower curtain and flocked into the ceramic basin. The quiet gurgling ricocheted throughout the small room, its many angles and granite recesses in the wall moving the sound away. As the white water vapour thickened, it was as though the warm lights had dimmed out and he stood in the aftermath of a flood. His ears rang softly and he tasted parched water on his tongue, sat against the cold wall of the bathroom, his open bathrobe dragging on the carpeted floor. Trying the temperature again, he dipped a finger into the thin surface of water which swirled sleepily. Under such radiance, the water had taken on the colours of honey and further inside the cubicle, those of the setting sun. Believing it was enough, Rochalizo discarded his robe which he sent flying on the clothing screen and stepped onto the wet ceramic, splashing his own ankles as he progressed up to the tap. He directed it towards him and its stream of water flushed, more spilling than he had expected and colder which drew out a slight groan from him. When the water finally turned hot enough, he slipped under the stream with much delight. He had enjoyed a few minutes to himself under hot water, heating his shivering body when he heard a knock on the door.

"What?!", he shouted through the water running and the rumbling of an overwhelmed siphon.

Suoh's voice through the wooden door was pleading.

"Can I brush my hair?"

Rochalizo reduced the flow rate a little, fixing hands around his temples so the water wouldn't pour over his ears as he did. He couldn't hear a thing.

"What?!?!

— Can I brush my hair?", repeated Suoh, a little stronger, his mouth against the wall.

— Can't it wait?

— Please, I have a big knot and it hurtssss..."

Suoh knew how to be persuasive, his little wails never missed their aim, to Rochalizo's despair. Reaching out with dripping fingers through the shower curtain, he groped for some time blindly, finding the switch first, then the lock which he unlocked rapidly. As he warmed himself up again under the stream, he heard the door open and Suoh step in. In small coughs, he fought against the vapour before Rochalizo heard the familiar repetitive sounds of the brush grooming the hair and taming it until he no longer heard its painful resistance and the staunch brush strokes which left Suoh out of breath. Rochalizo clinged to the water running, eyes shutting and his belly facing the wall. Suoh's presence didn't particularly make him uneasy, but he would still dread an unlucky occurence like the shower curtain falling by itself or blowing open. He could've relaxed a bit more, reaching the blissful state where he'd almost fall asleep in the hot water, but since Suoh was there, it inexplicably motivated him to get his shower over with. He had begun pooring shampoo into his hands when Suoh's voice reached his ears again.

"Hey... Can I come?"

Rochalizo spread the handful of shampoo on his thorax, distracted by the words. Tilting his face to the right, he nibbled on his lip, not sure if he should have felt a bit peeved or sorry.

"Not really..."

There was a thump coming from the floor and the metallic sound of something banging on it. Suoh must have sat against the heater.

"Why...?

— Heuh. You know I don't have to give you a 'why'", huffed the other whose tone was on the line between mockery and amusement for the outward discomfit Suoh was showing.

Suoh must have shifted a leg or a foot and leaned against something because he now heard him as though he was farther.

"I know...", Suoh answered as his soft laugh chimed around the room, "I'll just take mine afterwards then".

A rustle of fabric reached the other's ears and he understood Suoh had gotten up and was heading for the door. He scratched his chin, thinking for a second.

"Wait!", Rochalizo called out of the blue.

Suoh's footsteps stopped and he himself had frozed, hand on the doorknob.

"You want me to bring soap back? Or some...?", he inquired, but Rochalizo cut him off.

"No, just... Just come in if you want to.

— Really?

— Y-Yeah..."

Suoh's nails gratted against the doorknob and stopped briefly before resuming again. His voice was clear, given an inkling of curiosity.

"Why the sudden change?

— You said you needed a wash. It'd be more convenient this way", the boy muttered, rubbing his arm awkwardly.

He had been reluctant to share his peace before but it didn't matter anymore. Now that Suoh was here and that they were chatting carefreely. Suoh laughed.

"Is that the only reason?"

Rochalizo ostensibly shrugged, although Suoh couldn't see him through the curtain.

"I just... Reconsidered and thought it could be nice... If we can make it quick".

"Quick?", repeated Suoh, almost choking from the words he had seemed to find witty, "You're always accusing me of turning your showers as long as... What did you say again the other day? ... Endless monk meditations!"

The slight fluttering of cloths and arms struggling pierced through and clothes began falling to the floor. From inside the shower cubicle, he was watching the bathroom lamps keel softly as the other undressed in uncoordinated moves. Rochalizo's mouth curved as he eyed the curtain with a disgracious stare.

"You deserve it! 'Cause every time we shower together you manage to turn it into a water fight... Or shower sex. Or a four-hour-long hugging session!"

The light ringing of Suoh's belt which was being being taken off and harped on about round the room stopped. A small mouth sound of lips being parted.

"So you're not gonna hug me? I'm not coming in...", he complained.

Rochalizo huffed and shook his head, amused at this attempt of earning pity. As Suoh had moved closer to the cloth, he was beginning to see his faint shadow and watched it ondulate in indistinct strokes, sketchy like an ink-painted abstract figure a canvas would proudly wield.

"I never said that, idiot. Come".

He heard the last of his clothes hit the floor; pants first, then his underwear and next thing, his fingertips brushed against the shower curtain, then slid in. Rochalizo stepped forward, courteously putting his hand out and Suoh reached out for him to seize his fingers and guide him inside to avoid any risk of stumbling. When he lay his foot on the ceramic and slithered through the screen, Suoh's eyes caught sight of Rochalizo. The latter's face was slightly pink, framed by a mass of wet hair turned into adorable straighter spikes. Droplets poured from his cheeks and nose and his chest rose in small bouncings under the water which dripped from his slumped shoulders to his narrow waist and down his plumped thighs which skin closed around his crotch. He shied away a bit from his eyes, his flushed body from the heat slightly turned to the side. But he held Suoh's hands in his tightly, treasuring. Suoh's heart missed a beat and his lips lift up so high he thought they'd touch the roof.

'Don’t hide from me...', he wished to say in this instant, 'I love everything about you baby'. His hands freed themselves and he almost ran filling the distance between them, cupping Rochalizo's face. They brushed away a strand of hair covering his left eye and went back in place while his gaze had not left Rochalizo.

"You're cold..."

Suoh's loving eyes filled with playfulness hearing his boy state such a factual thing as gravely as though it'd be a matter of life or death that it should come to be resolved. And he giggled. His arms fell on the other's shoulders, straight and kindly enclaving, broken at the wrists.

"Oh, surely you can fix that..."

Rochalizo smiled. He emitted a small throaty sound of amusement and his hands fixed around the paler hips, loving how they came to fit so nicely into his hands and how the soft skin seemed to have been made for him to grasp. Pulling gently at them, his eyes wandered on Suoh's groin and followed the lines his hip sockets traced up to his lower-stomach and the bony curvature of his kidneys, some skin being pleated, the beauty marks below his navel, the smallest fuzz from his belly... Unconsciously as he observed, his fingers skimmed in awe the three intercrossing stretchmarks under Suoh's right hip bone which intercrossed like sea dragons or shining fish scales. He had the simplest beauty, one you couldn't get over because it was so humble and charming.

Suoh's head poked smoothly against his and as he too lowered his gaze, he smiled as he noticed Rochalizo’s gaze was swathing him, contemplating his nakedness with the blithe casualness, yet reserved admiration of someone who knew his body by heart but still felt quiet delight in observing him. Silently delighted too, Suoh’s arms unstiffened and correctly snaked around the upper back of his beloved, filling his hands with the other’s shoulder blades and traced some loving words on each side of his spine. He too, got stuck on the other’s skin, his appreciative gaze hooking on his outer thighs which water tracks irrigated, flowing by his outer thighs, swirled on the inner flesh and escaped in long gushes around knee height.

Swiftly going up again, Rochalizo’s eyes floated into his for some moments and he lost himself in an eruption of colours, those pupils round and brimming with unrushed and tranquil yearning. Rochalizo dragged him under the running water, walking backwards carefully and shifting to the side so they could both stand under it. As he once more pulled at Suoh’s hips, bringing his body warmth to him, as he had requested, Suoh wiped the water from his moled face, however quickly the water would come splash it again inevitably and kissed him.

Suoh kissed him longly, slowly, his hands brushing idly against his neck and chest, not attempting in the least to challenge time to a race. He wished to waste it all with Rochi, if you could call it waste, and see with him the unexpected early rise of the sun as they’d have wasted it so much, perhaps even miss it as they’d only have eyes for each other. They huddled against each other as closely as it was still possible for their mouths to align and for one to take in the other’s breath. The sounds of water, mightier and deeper as it rang peacefully against their ears induced a sensation of indescribable safety and the smaller drops ricocheting in the cubicle told a story in a high-pitched hummed melody.

Under the hot spring, Suoh’s newly wetted body was ran by small shivers, adapting to temperature changes and Rochalizo took good care to massage it gently, brushing the goose bumped skin away with the water which fell into his hands. The waters kept raining onto them as their smiling mouths parted and they breathed calmly through the hot vapour, finding air between the walls of liquid which dropped from their face. Lips carved into a chuckling smile, Suoh washed away again, the water from Rochalizo’s brow and his eyelids blinked, sharing a blurry, loving gaze with the other through eyelashes dotted with droplets. Rochalizo batted eyelashes, eyes growing sassy, behind their own weave of water pearls.

“So, is it fixed?”

Suoh felt his own smile grow into a mischievous smirk and nodded vigorously before uttering one single giggling sound, kissing Rochalizo’s neck and resting his head on his shoulder.

Rochalizo exhaled a little air, amused and locked arms around the thin hips after getting on his tiptoes so Suoh wouldn’t have to bend his back too much in this position. Their bodies intertwined, slipping easily since they were soaked. Suoh’s skin was now warm and so smooth Rochalizo felt like pulling fistfuls of it. Instead, he dug his nose into the green hair, in the half which had already dried a little, being less exposed. They were still for a little while, except shifting once or twice for Rochalizo to take his turn at having his back outside of the water. Soon, Suoh’s lips brushed against like silk against his neck. Those weren’t exactly kisses, he stroked Rochalizo’s skin using only lips, parting them just enough so he felt his hot breath and closing them, unpursed.

“Hey don’t!”, he protested, laughing softy, pushing him back a little.

Suoh’s face wouldn’t have looked more comical if an interrogation mark had popped above his head. Rochalizo snorted.

“But we’re just cuddling...?

— I said I didn’t want this to be long. We’ve been here for long enough already.

— Oh”.

Rochalizo could feel the thoughts squirming their way in to Suoh’s mind, as he began looking more and more disappointed despite what he probably tried not to show.

“You’ve got better things to—?

— No treasure, don’t take this personally. I’m super tired, that’s why. All I want is to go to bed”, he declared, placing a reassuring hand on his arm, punctuating his point with an authentic yawn.

Suoh’s fond smile would have been enough an answer but he walked to the shelf and grabbed the bottle of shampoo and soap. He handed Rochalizo the bar of soap and positioned behind him. His good-natued words were music to his ears.

“Okay... Let me help”.

Rochalizo agreed to that and thanked him with a kiss. While he rubbed soap on his torso and spread the surplus on his arms and forearms, he felt the cold substance being poured into his hair. Then, delicate hands roaming his skull, scrubbing more insistently at his temples, his back hair and front baby hair. Suoh resumed his gentle scrubbing and placed several kisses on his brow after having paused to rince the bubbly hair and created a screen with his hand so it would not fall into his eyes. Rochalizo found himself enjoying this head massage more than he should have, being distracted more than once by the comfort he was feeling and forgetting to pursue his washing. The absolute care and fingers fluttering around, providing strokes in places which had him relax more and more, his head slowly falling backwards sometimes drew wee sighs of relief from him.

“I like this new shampoo”, Suoh whispered, close to his flushed ear, his nose in Rochalizo’s just washed hair.

A tingle of pleasure shot through his body and Rochalizo’s eyes closed by themselve as he smiled, but tried not to smile so broadly as his lips ordered him to.

“I know right. I’m good at choosing them”.

A small snickering from behind him and two hands pulled at his shoulders, the angelic voice even more into his ear.

“Can I use it?”

Rochalizo’s brain and body battled for their rights to respectfully wince and smile which had him do all two. He could have easily urged him to use the full bottle and promised to buy him all existing versions of this shampoo when we was being talked like this so seductively...

“You can’t. It’s mine”, he still managed to say.

Suoh hummed in a low voice, as if saying that it couldn’t be helped. Noticing Rochalizo had stopped washing, he took the soap from his hands and began rubbing at his back. Rochalizo could hear his smirk in his back as he teased:

"My bad, I forgot you like smelling like nasty veggie products. There /is/ rhubarb in the mix after all.

— You!”, Rochalizo exclaimed in a loud huff, almost scandalised at, in his eyes, such a low blow.

He turned to the side and splashed a large quantity of water in Suoh’s face. Crying out in surprise, Suoh tried to block it with his arms unsuccessfully. He spat out some water to the side but as he rose his head high again, uttered this devilish giggle only he could produce, proving the attack had had little effect. Rochalizo mocked the way his hair fell miserably on his face, arrogantly looking down. He splashed another wave at Suoh who this time, raised his arms at the right height to protect himself.

“Hey! That’s not fair, you’re the closest to the spring!”

Not earning a satisfying result, Rochalizo kept sending water in his direction, his insolence growing each second, his lips twitching with conceit.

“What’s that? I feel like that’s not my problem...”

He finally aimed a little too well and, as a reaction, Suoh stopped fighting and let out a little wail. He rose his left fist to rub his right eye in a way that seemed to be quite painful.

“C’mon, stop pretending”, Rochalizo said, raising an eyebrow, but nonetheless not daring to send any other big waves

He splashed a little water at Suoh’s legs, careful as to hit an insensitive spot. Yet Suoh’s silence remained and he began doubting himself.

“Hey... I know you’re playing. T’was just stupid water, it can’t hurt”, he carried on, although his voice was riddled with doubt and he couldn’t refrain from stepping closer to check on him and put his hand out towards him.

He knew he shouldn’t have let down his guard when he heard Suoh’s evil laugh again and then felt his arm being grabbed so hard he was pulled in the opposite direction while Suoh rushed to the shower jet, stealing his place.

Rochalizo was fast to turn around and rush after him but that wasn’t fast enough for he got struck by the water jet head-on. Suoh laughed at his screams of panic and they swirled around for a while, bumping into each other as Suoh tried keeping the jet out of reach and Rochalizo extended his arm as far as he could to try and catch it.

“Give it back!

“Come and get it then!”

Rochalizo had decided to do just that and he leaned in once more, attempting to pull and perhaps pinch Suoh’s to make him let go but Suoh was suddenly propelled forward, shouting in panic. In this mess of hair and arms flying, he collided with Rochalizo who, having lost his balance, stumbled backwards, screeching wildly. Rochalizo hit the floor first, in a loud choked breathing out, then the other crashed on his chest and both exhaled pained whines.

Almost immediately, Suoh asked if he was hurt, his voice rising and getting higher as he worried the impact might have been too brutal for Rochalizo. Once the shock over, the latter looked him dead in the eye, his face grave and stone cold. Then, he burst out laughing. Suoh’s face crumpled and he laughed along. It was absurd, to be lying here in stagnant water and to have slipped in a surface that was supposed to be wet.

“Gosh, you’re so clumsy... Is that a challenge for you to fall in every place you possibly go to?

— I didn’t do it on purpose!”, protested Suoh, cackling as he pretended to be offended for not more than a second.

Rochalizo’s nose wrinkled in both irritation and amusement. Then irritation took over momentarily when a droplet of water fell from the faucet on top of his nose. Suoh simply smiled and wiped the droplet from his nose. With his index and middle finger, he softy grated at Rochalizo’s chest, looking down shyly, then, meeting his gaze, triumphantly as the water jet continued pouring on Rochalizo.

— So... Looks like I’ve won this little fight...”

The other’s eyebrows rose, looking annoyed already. His mouth opened slightly and then closed, some trails of the liquid dripping on his chin. Suoh began considering a little too late how puffy Rochalizo’s cheeks had gotten and couldn’t brace himself for what followed. Unexpectedly, Rochalizo spat all the water from his mouth into his face. A bothered moan escaped Suoh’s throat and he then looked down at Rochalizo, his face trickling with water and saliva which sent the boy on his back again, laughing.

Ugh...”, Suoh sighed, but he was more amused than exasperated.

“I win this one”, Rochalizo corrected, stroking Suoh’s cheek, his eyes still tearing up with mirth.

“Alright. You win. Have your immature victory.

— You’re one to talk...”, Rochalizo replied, through non-stop giggling.

“Yeah... I’m one to talk”, murmured Suoh, feeling soft and he leaned in to kiss his philtrum.

Rochalizo’s giggled slowly got muffled in his throat and his hand brushed and got lost into Suoh’s hair as he was being kissed, waiting for his time to return the gentle pecks and soft brushing of lips. Suoh leaned on his elbows to gain more stability and stared at the boy, his eyes merry and tender.

“So... Didn’t you want to go? I know you love lying in used water but...

— Who taught you to be so sarcastic!”, commented Rochalizo, biting his lip hard as he tried not to start laughing again, cheeks hurting from the wheeze he contained.

Suoh’s face leaned into him, mischievous yet still too kind. Because it was him after all, and however harsh the irony, he could never make it seem like those words were truly mocking. Suoh looked him dead in the eyes and shrugged his shoulders innocently.

“Beats me........”

Rochalizo teeth still dug his lip and he got carried into further bits of laughter.

Suoh joined in him in the laughing and then, shifting, he let himself fall to the side and helped them get back on their feet. At this point, Rochalizo had gotten sluggish and on the verge of dozing off. Making sure he hadn’t gotten too cold, Suoh rinsed Rochalizo's body with hot water, as a way to warm him up and get him clean again. Then, almost pushed him out of the shower and wrapped him in his bathrobe while Rochalizo complained in faint protests, although he didn't notice it for the first five minutes that Suoh had put it on inside out. During that time, Suoh proceeded to dry his hair to a minimum with the hairdryer. He left him on the doorstep, slightly confused, while he, went back inside to finish his own shower.

#rochalizo #cotw #children of the whales #children of the whale #kujira no kora #knk #les enfants de la baleine #kujira no kora wa sajou ni utau #suoh #rohalito #suou #kujira no kora fanfiction #cotw fanfiction #modern au #college students au

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heli0s-writes · 5 years

Text

As it Was

Summary: Sam warned him when he arrived at the compound, returned to the timeline he ran from: It’s different now, she doesn’t do the superhero thing anymore, she’s got another life now, but he wouldn’t listen. He can’t. He must hope that some things are the same, that your love is the same. Pairing: Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader A/N: ANGST. Re-written Post-endgame kinda thing because I’m bitter. 3.3k word count. Very inspired by Hozier’s “As it Was” :^)

As it Was Masterpost

There is a roadway.

The tires crunch over rock and gravel as Steve drives down the familiar path. Flanked by overgrown grass and wildflowers in full bloom, insects flutter around the petals, sunlight glistening on waxy blades of green. He can smell it, even inside the car, ignited in his nose and blazing into his chest.

The smell of summer. The crushed earth beneath muddied boots.

He can taste the watermelon sugar, tingling on the sweet tongue encased in an even sweeter mouth.

Your bright pink lips wet with cold bites of fruit. He loved the way you would collect the smooth seeds and pinch them between your teeth. He loved the way you’d spit them into his face—silly with joy under the shade of a tree. Too slow, baby!

He can hear your laughter in the dead air-conditioned chamber of one of many compound cars. If he could bottle it up into a music box and wind it up just to hear now, he would.

He would.

Steve’s heart twists tighter as the road continues its winding way deeper through the thicket of verdant trees. Sunlight pours through in golden rays, slipping past the cracks of parted leaves. A pathway the two of you walked many times over, hand-in-hand.

There’s a separation of the blades to the left, a well-worn spot leading into an open space where you would spread the picnic blanket, stuff him full of cold cut sandwiches and fruit pie. Iced lemonade, tart. Then, under the light of the sun, or moon, or any time or season in-between, you would wrap yourself over him, love him so sweetly he could weep now.

But then is not now.

For the past three years of your time, then had been now.

But now that he’s back... now is something else.

His phone rings, echoing through the car with its shrill tittering. Sam’s number appears, as it has been every five minutes for the past two hours of his journey. Sam calling. Sam leaving messages. Sam texting.

Don’t, Cap. Don’t go there. It’s changed, Cap. Things have changed. Trust me, man. It’s better if you don’t go.

But Steve has to. He has to change your mind. Make you forgive him because he loves you so much. He has to make it all go back to as it was.

Back then, on the platform, he had been sure. In the sepia-colored minutes of his wayward past, he had been sure. That unreachable possibility had become so nearly tangible he could grab it in his hands. He was inches from her—from Peggy, and it took him decades away from you.

So, he leapt. He followed his foolish boyish heart to its dream. He told you the night before under the awning in front of the cabin, windchimes striking in the draft, fireflies all around. He’s never been a part of this world, not truly. He’s got to go back to where he belongs.

With Peggy, you mean?

You cried and cried then, wrapping your arms around your middle, refusing to say anything else, and he had never seen you so shattered. But he had been sure.

And then, only four weeks into the returned years of Steve Rogers, suddenly, like a cold hand tugging him awake, the dream slipped.

He wasn’t sure after all.

Sam calls again, but Steve is obstinate. The cabin peeks over the hill, sunken in the distance of the field just as he remembered—the little cobblestoned well in the field, string lights around the perimeter, mailbox at the edge of the road, rainbow pinwheels you’d planted in the ground because they’re cute, Steve.

From the thick branch of the oak tree you have hung a tire swing-- endearing, and so like you. Next to it is a picnic table where a single copper watering can sits in the middle, bunches of wildflowers sticking out. A tangle of yellow and green. Like your arms wrapped around his waist, linked fingers squeezing him tightly, playfully, pretending you could crush him.

Gonna kill you! Crack ya ribs!

He would grunt dramatically behind a muffled chuckle, Yes, baby. I’ve died! You’re so—ugh! Strong! B-Bucky! Avenge me!

Bucky would roll his eyes with a smirk, You two are nauseating.

You would stick your tongue out, turn it back around to Steve and lick a stripe from his throat to his chin, making him shudder all over as he watched your pretty pink mouth curl into a grin, and growl. Steven Grant Rogers, growled, and Bucky‘d throw his hands up and abscond before his eyes might see Captain America do something indecent.

He didn’t have that with Peggy. He didn’t have the twinkling of your mischievous eyes, the flame of your passion. He only had the bitter chill of your absence and the stark realization that a first love and a true love are two different things.

Sam warned him when he arrived at the compound: It’s different now, she doesn’t do the superhero thing anymore, she’s got another life now, but he wouldn’t listen. He can’t. He must hope that some things are the same, that your love is the same.

How long would you wait for me?

Steve pulls the car into the patch of trodden grass he once parked in, steps out, and closes the door quietly. There’s a clattering inside before the wooden door creaks open— as it always has, even after he loosened and tightened all its hinges— it still creaks, same as ever.

Your shape in the doorway.

One leg at a time, you emerge.

A weightless gauze dress hangs from your frame as you linger in the opening, back turned to him. In one hand is a small twine basket lined with gingham fabric. A pair of garden shears sit nestled inside. He remembers this— the walks to clip flowers and pick berries. You would put the berries in the pies, place the blossoms and leaves in mason jars all over the countertops until it looked wild in the house, too.

Your hair is longer, he smiles as he continues to watch, gazing at the loose braid you’ve fashioned your locks into. You used to complain about how fast it would grow, annoyed at how the buzzed side with the sharp chevron pattern needed to be maintained closely.

He supposes you’ve grown tired of the upkeep. You’ve let it grow out now.

The braid is new. The dress is new. But the way you lean into the house, so relaxed and carefree, that is familiar.

Steve is unsure how to approach. He doesn’t want to startle you, even though his very presence is startling. He knows your capabilities, and with those razor-sharp shears next to your elbow he wouldn’t try it. No, you couldn’t crush his ribs, but you could slice him gullet to belly in a second.

He opens his mouth to call your name, but the door creaks louder as you lean down and push it further back into the house, urging faintly. You turn, duck your torso behind the wall, leaving a deliberate space by your legs.

And then he sees it. The change Sam warned him about. The life.

His heart drops. And trembles. And feels like it could burst entirely.

Two tiny bare feet tap forward, kicking with each step. A happy, shrill, cry leaps into the air as the boy clumsily jumps one foot at a time, and lands past your dress.

The child.

“Wait for me, baby,” you call, still tucked halfway inside, “Wait for mama.”

“Mama!” He sputters and giggles, “Mama!” Mama.

God. The boy is beautiful. He is barefoot and his face is eclipsed by a canvas bucket hat, shielding the plump, pale skin of him from the summer sun. Even if Steve can’t see his face yet, he knows, because of you, any child would be perfect. A cherub. A little cherub that could have been his.

“I’m coming, just… let me get my hat. And sunscreen for you. Ah, mama has been so bad with that sunscreen.” There is more fumbling as you drop the basket on your arm into the dark house and briefly slip inside.

The boy stops at the step leading down, pondering his own confidence to tread forward. He sits, instead, letting his bottom save any potential fall before he scoots his legs over. After braving the first step, he looks up. He blinks slowly, and Steve catches sight of his enormous blue eyes, and long lashes, button nose, rosy red cheeks, slightly open mouth slack with surprise and a little bit of wonder.

“Mama.” He says, before tilting his head, “Mama, Mama. Body! Some here.”

“Someone’s here?”

You quickly emerge, hand fisting a wide-brimmed straw hat, arm reaching forward to scoop your child up and away. He is plopped firmly on your jutting left hip before you tear the hat off your head, stare into the tall and broad figure of a man you have known too well. A surprised breath tears itself from your throat.

“Steve?”

His mouth jerks into a careful smile. Nothing he had practiced during the car ride feels right in this moment; all his words have been tossed into the yard by the hands of a three-year-old boy. The hat drops from your hand, quietly slides on the dusty wooden patio, speckles of it catching light and blowing away in the easy wind. You blink, eyes shifting side to side as if questioning your reality.

“Steve?”

His name slips off your tongue so sweetly and he can’t help but close his eyes to memorize you again. That voice, his name, the years have passed, and he hasn’t forgotten it. He is so goddamn sorry to have left it at all.

From the first time you called it, to the first time you whispered it, promised your allegiance to it, to the first time you sobbed it, following him into the unknown and the darkness for five years. No matter how black the night, he had you.

Your love was unmoved.

“Sweetheart,” He pleas, stepping forward with a shaky outstretched hand.

You stand frozen like a statue, everything stiff and still except for the fluttering of your creamy dress and the boy on your hip, babbling freely. His little fingers and their little fingernails prod and poke at your neck, grabbing onto the strands that frame your face—too short to stay in the braid.

God. You’re beautiful. You glow, softened by the years without fighting and training, tanned by the sunlight, kissed by the breeze and rain and butterfly wings, and everything else but him.

“Mama, mama. Want down, down!”

The boy squeezes and releases his soft fists, reaching out and kicking your back with his foot. He begins to grunt and whine, head thrown behind and lolling over at Steve. “Down!”

“Hey,” Steve smiles, taking a finger to caress the boy’s palm, calming his motions, “What’s your name?”

You slowly turn to look at your child, eyes beginning to focus on him, as if suddenly remembering his weight perched on your side. A quick breath is sucked into your lungs as he blinks and grins, laughing. “Jams! This is mama an’ this is Jams.”

“J-James.” You correct with a broken, wet, laugh, “H-he’s.. his name—it’s James.”

Steve watches him continue to thrash against your side out of joy, now, as if being held by you is a game in itself. He brings your hair to his mouth, blubbering into it, giggling when it tickles his face. He taps on your collar with a finger, gnaws impishly on your shoulder until a line of drool trickles down. Then, he laughs again, and pushes his cheeks into it, hugging your bicep tightly.

The boy—the angel—James. Steve feels himself clench up with the new knowledge. His name is James.

“James?” There is betrayal in the way he questions it. As much as he tries to steel it, a tiny rupture creeps through the single syllable.

You pull the boy close to your body, maneuvering until you’re holding him with both arms, one slanted over his back, the other under his bottom. He sighs and leans his head onto your shoulder, makes soft noises of contentment. “Mama… walk? Go for a walk, mama.”

Between your overcast eyes and Steve’s inspecting blue ones, James is tucked like a pebble in a cobblestone wall, desperately holding back the torrent from both sides. You grip him unwaveringly, shush him now for the time being.

“Is he—Bucky? He’s Bucky’s?”

Steve inspects the front yard, the blindingly hopeful curtain finally lifting from his eyes—there are three seats on the porch, three flowers painted on the mailbox, three little stumps further away surrounding an extinguished fire.

A home—his home, his place, now filled in with the bulk of someone else. And not just anyone else, he thinks bitterly, but Bucky. His best friend, now his old lover’s new lover. It spins him out of control.

Your face scrunches up with disdain, mouth twisting into a scowl he’s known rarely, but still—he knows it.

“Yes, Steve.” You spit, nostrils flaring with anger, “He’s named after his father. He’s named after his real father.”

Steve frowns, broken-hearted, apologetic, confused. Your eyes have welled up with unshed tears, your lips pinched tightly together, as if holding back your words will keep the tears at bay, too. He doesn’t know what you mean as he stares vacantly at your protective stance.

But then he sees it.

He sees it when James grunts, bored now of a conversation that is years beyond his interest and comprehension. He beats his fists on your chest and leans back in agony.

His hat tumbles from his crown. Down, down, it falls noiselessly and when Steve looks back up to where his perfect little head is—returned to your collar, he sees brilliant flaxen curls, catching sunbeams.

Blindingly gold—almost white.

James twists his little body around and stares at Steve with some mysterious indulgence now that they are both wholly revealed to each other.

“He was there for me, you know.” You whisper, heavy teardrops running down to your chin, pooling until they barely hang on. “He was there the entire time. Nine whole agonizing months, knowing that I was growing something that was yours. I had nobody but Bucky.”

You press your lips to James’ head, inhaling the sweet scent of his skin, “I was out of my mind with grief. Th-thought, I couldn’t—I couldn’t have it. Couldn’t have a baby that was yours—you’d left me. You left what we had for something that was barely a dream, Steve.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know—I didn’t.”

“Bucky was there.” You continue, ignoring Steve’s confession. He bites his tongue, hopes it draws blood, hopes in secret you might take his very life from him. He can’t stand to be alive anymore, staring now at two people he left behind.

“Bucky was there, and he loved me through it. And when this little… when this sweet boy—” you press your eyes to his forehead, “When this boy came, we held each other and wept.”

A little laugh is muffled in James’ hair.

“So, yeah. He’s named after his real father, not his biological one.”

James leans his face towards yours, places his palms onto your cheek and pats the wetness away, “Mama. No more rain, mama. Mama, sunny outside.”

You burst apart, crumbling into tears against his little palm, pressing kisses to his fingertips, and Steve crumbles too. The boy, the precious boy, who is both his and not his, turns and looks at him earnestly. You whisper to him, kiss him on the cheek, Mama’s okay, baby. Mama’s got you with her now. Sunshine boy.

And then you turn your eyes to him. Those once doting eyes he always found gazing longingly, even after he was yours. Now they cut him, sharp and cold, holding him in their deep, dark light.

“You need to leave, before he comes home.” You whisper over the sound of insect wings and birds in the distance. The trees rustle and sway, as if egging your words on.

Home. Your home is with Bucky. Not Steve, not anymore.

“He’ll want to see you, but not like this.”

He wouldn’t even know what to say to Bucky. He wouldn’t know what to expect to hear, either. You and Bucky, and his son—your son, Steve’s son, Bucky’s son. All strung up together in a terrible web, waiting for the spider.

Somehow, he feels like the spider.

“Steve,” you call, and for a second, he hears it lovingly. Like how you might have called his name in front of the fireplace, nestled in his arms, snow settling in sheets outside. Steve, I love you.

“Steve.” It’s firm again, hard and cutting, ice chips crunched through your teeth, “When you left, you left Bucky, too. In your absence, we found each other. You didn’t just break me, Steve; you broke him. And you need to go, because I won’t let you do that to him again.”

You don’t have to say it, but he can parse it from your clenched jaw and the way you aim your words at him. You love Bucky.

The trajectory of the truth burns straight through his guts. It churns and twists and drugs his entire being until it leaves every last cell numb.

Once upon a time, you loved him, too.

But that was before he knew the darkness, before he knew the possibility and lost himself in the what if, the then, burning away the now and the love he already had.

You set James down softly in the dirt after landing soft kisses to his cheeks, watch his toes flex and grip the grass. He places the hat back over his head, lopsided, but on, regardless. He bounces on his feet, bending his knees and getting a feel for the ground beneath him. The silly ritual completes when he pads away, chasing a hovering dragonfly. Every few seconds, he looks back and laughs.

Steve’s heart cracks open with every inch of the boy’s smile.

The two of you stand for what seems like an eternity, trying to find something to end it on. He can’t do anything more than laugh resentfully, because if he doesn’t, he’ll cry, and he’ll never stop. It comes out as two clipped scoffs before he splinters anyway.

So, he nods, accepts the defeat he’s given himself and lets the tears trickle down his face to match you. Blinking the sea from your eyes, you sniffle loudly and turn, splitting the grass with your feet to follow the trail James has made into the field.

Pulling out of the driveway, Steve watches you next to your son, his son, Bucky’s son— that beautiful boy, blue-eyed like both of them. You bend and lift him, toss him gently, nuzzle him and smile before you take him down into the grass and continue the walk away from the house. He plucks flowers and raises them up and you let him tuck them inelegantly into your braid, still lovely.

Steve closes his eyes one last time to sear the image into his mind. He interjects himself into the scene, walking hand-in-hand down that habitual path. He imagines James on his hip, stares into the phantom face of that boy of his, your laughter ringing next to him like the wind. He laughs and laughs, and cries and cries. And then, he drives until the house is gone from the rearview mirror.

No, it will never be as it was again.

The dream, honeyed, sweet, as beautiful as it may be, it would only be half as beautiful as the truth could have been. Half as beautiful as the boy. Half as beautiful as you.

#marvel #mcu #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader x bucky #steve x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #stucky x reader #post endgame #fanfiction #reader insert #as it was heli0s

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crash-cinematic-universe · 4 years

Text

Abed Nadir and his need to count the seconds

pairing: abed nadir/troy barnes (it’s Light but I wrote it with the intent for trobed)

summary: Abed Nadir hates being alone in general, so when his friends disappear and leave him alone in a sea of job-seeking students he struggles to keep his head above water.

request: okay wait ur abed headcanons got me thinking. abed angst. kings gotta have abandonment issues cuz of his parents YES I'm projecting a little bit. u don't have to do this if it makes u too sad tho - @ghost-butch

warnings: abandonment issues, anxiety attacks, s/h (kinda; in the form of clenching ur fists too hard)

notes: writing abed angst makes me sad ): why did i do this to him he deserves better. also im about to punch evil abed in the face ):< just over 2k words with this one so thats Cool also its midnight and i have school tomorrow arent i epic and cool.

taglist: @simonsbluee

_____________

Fifteen minutes and twenty-two seconds. Abed had been lost for fifteen minutes and twenty-two second. Abed’s eyes were trained on the clock hanging on the wall, each tick of the second hand amplified in his head to a piercing shout. Everything was bigger; the lights were blindingly bright and his clothes felt as if they were clawing at his skin. With each passing second Abed became increasingly worried, his breath getting shallower and shallower with each rise of his chest. His eyes returned to the clock on the wall, his stomach jumping at the reading-- sixteen minutes and fourteen seconds.

The study group had promised Abed they’d accompany him to the job fair. They promised they’d be by his side the entire time; Abed didn’t do well alone in large crowds, especially in new environments. He’d gotten distracted by an engineering booth in the corner with a large lego replica of the millennium falcon hanging in the corner. He looked away from his friends for no more than thirteen seconds, but in those thirteen seconds, they disappeared in the sea of students and booths and interns. Thus, leaving Abed completely alone in a mass of strangers in a building that he’d never seen before.

His anxiety had built up with every minute he was lost. It was gradual; he started with the initial panic, followed by frantic searching for familiar faces in the crowd. It wasn’t long after that when his heart rate began to pick up, and within minutes his skin felt as if it was on fire. Abed couldn’t really pinpoint exactly when he’d begun to shuffle backwards out of the large venue the job fair was held in. Before he knew it, he was at the end of a dimly lit hallway, completely alone. He slunk to the floor and pulled his knees to his chest.

They’ll look for me, he thought. They’re probably looking for me now. Abed reached into his pocket for his cellphone before he realized he’d left it with Troy. The emptiness of his pocket felt endless, his hand tingling where the fabric of his shorts met his skin. The familiar whine that Abed let out when he became overwhelmed filled the empty hallway, the tone only making his anxiety worse. He cursed himself for not thinking ahead-- he’d left all of his fidget toys and putty in his messenger bag which he also left with Troy.

It was then that a tiny voice in the back of his head spoke up-- maybe they left, it called. Abed shook his head, but the voice persisted. They left you. They’re gone, and no one is coming for you. A familiar figure materialized in the vast shadows at the other end of the hallway; Evil Abed smirked at him from where he stood.

“They’re gone,” He repeated. “They were waiting for something to draw you away for them so they could slip away,”

“That’s not true.” Abed’s fingers absentmindedly dug into his palm. “They wouldn’t do that-- Troy wouldn’t do that. Jeff and Britta, maybe, but not Troy. Not Annie.” Truthfully, Abed didn’t believe that Jeff or Britta would leave, but he wasn’t thinking clearly in the moment.

“Riddle me this, Abed, who does Troy respect more: you or Jeff? Who does he think is cooler? Who does he idolize more?” Evil Abed’s voice was smug and cruel. It felt as if his words were burrowing through his brain and fogging up his thoughts. “Sure, Troy might tolerate you, but he worships Jeff. If Jeff wanted to leave, then surely Britta and Annie would tag along. It’s inevitable that Troy would join them, isn’t it?” Abed shut his eyes tightly, but that didn’t do much to ward off his evil counterpart.

A film played behind Abed’s eyelids, the poetic irony of his worst fears being portrayed through his favorite thing making his heart ache. There they were: Jeff, Britta, Troy, Annie, all standing in a tight group as Abed wandered off. Their expressions and movements were exaggerated, but Abed didn’t care. He just sat and watched as the scene unfolded.

“God, I can’t believe he roped us into this,” Jeff groaned, his hands gripping his cellphone as if someone were going to take it from him. “What kind of loser can’t go to a damn fair by himself? I could have a hot redhead hanging on my arm at a sports bar and instead I’m babysitting a twenty-five-year-old.”

“C’mon Jeff, we’re here for Abed. God knows if he came here alone he’d probably drive everyone here crazy with his “Inspector Spacetime” BS.” Britta chimed in, a tired tone in her voice. Annie looked antsy as always, while Troy looked unsure. Abed wasn’t sure of what, exactly.

Slowly, Abed wandered a few feet away from the group. Jeff’s face lit up the same way it does when he sees an attractive student in the hallways. A borderline cartoon-ish grin grew on his face as he pulled the group tighter.

“Hey, Abed’s gone. Let’s take this window and get the hell out of here while the cat is distracted by the lazer,” He chuckled. Britta smiled and nodded, quickly grabbing Annie’s hand in an attempt to pull her out. The three of them made their way to the exit, leaving Troy alone. He turned around to glance at Abed before rolling his eyes and running after Jeff. Abed was alone.

The image faded away, and to Abed’s surprise, Evil Abed faded away with it. For a split second, Abed was disappointed. He really, really, really didn’t want to be alone-- even if his only companion was an evil version of himself. A minute passes before Abed realizes he was crying, that revelation followed by the realization that his fingernails dug into his palm so hard he broke the skin. His tears blurred his vision and made his surrounding seem much smaller, much darker, much lonelier. His eyes no longer portrayed a dim hallway. Instead, Abed saw the same tiny locker he was locked in so often as a teenager. He could smell the rusted metal of the locker hinges. He could feel the chipped paint rubbing against his skin. He couldn’t breathe. Abed couldn’t breathe-- the entire world was closing in on him. He was cold and alone and no one was coming for him. His friends left him and they weren’t coming back. Everyone who he cares about leaves him, why would they be any different? He watched the world pass by through the tiny slits in the door before his eyes screwed shut again as he choked on air.

He was in agony. His entire body shook and his heart pounded so hard he felt as if it were going to burst. Abed wanted to go home, he wanted to be back at Greendale with Troy and the rest of his friends but he was trapped. His arms began to cramp up from how hard he had tensed, his knuckles a pale white from how tightly he was clenching his fists. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t speak or sob or scream; he was stuck. Locked away. The outside world faded away as Abed retreated into his mind. He tried to hide away in his head forever until a janitor stumbled upon his frozen shell of a body tomorrow morning. There was an echoing sound, however, that kept drawing him from the abyss of his brain.

Footsteps. He could hear footsteps. Abed couldn’t tell whether or not they were real, but he could guess who’s footsteps they were. They were frantic and uneven-- they had the potential to be rhythmic, but the walker was urgent. Worried. The biggest identifying factor, though, was the quiet sound of plastic aglets on the tile floor; their shoes were untied. Abed smiled weakly as he recalled the fact that Troy almost never had his shoes tied. A glimmer of hope shone through the small slits in the locker door as the footsteps grew closer.

“Abed?” Troy’s voice cut through the silence in the hallway. He turned the corner and froze as his eyes landed on his friend. “Abed? God, there you are! You scared me half to death, and Jeff was already boring me to death with his lame lawyer stories, so now I’m only, like, a fourth away from death!”

Abed didn’t reply. He couldn’t-- he still didn’t know if Troy was real or just another image. He was still locked away, after all. Troy could tell something was wrong; Abed’s eyes had glazed over and he looked like he’d seen a ghost. Troy hurried over, his eyes frantically assessing the situation at hand. He saw the blood on Abed’s palms and his stomach lurched.

“Hey, Abed, are you alright?” Troy asked softly. “Did something happen?” Abed did not reply, instead releasing a small, high-pitched whine. Everything was foggy-- it was all too foggy for Abed to know whether or not he was simply envisioning this angel of a human.

“Alright, uh, I’m going to touch your wrist. Is that alright?” Abed hesitated before nodding ever-so-slightly.

Gently, Troy wrapped his hand around Abed’s wrist. The contact was startling, but not unwelcome. Abed was becoming more and more sure that this Troy was real. The tight locker melted away to reveal the same dark hallway; his anxiety was eased a bit,but he still couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that settled over him. He glanced at the clock once again-- he was alone for thirty-two minutes and forty-seven seconds in total.

“I’m sorry I lost you,” Troy spoke quietly. His voice was comforting and genuine, his face soft and kind. He didn’t match the Troy that Evil Abed created at all. “I know this place is overwhelming, I’m so sorry. We should’ve been more attentive and more careful, this place is like a maze.” Abed soon realized he was too tired to respond verbally, instead opting to hold Troy’s hand. A silent reassurance was exchanged through their intertwined fingers. Abed’s palms stung a bit, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it. He was just so tired. His muscles were sore and his chest ached and his head pounded. He wanted to go home.

“Britta was practically running across the building looking for you, ya know,” Troy said. His hand was still holding Abed’s. “Annie started crying after 10 minutes, and for a second Jeff looked like he was going to cry, too. They were all so worried. I was worried, too. The thought of something bad happening to you was too much to handle.”

“I know you hate being alone, too. I guess you probably thought we ditched you or something. Jeff thought you ditched us, but I knew that wasn’t true. It doesn’t really matter, though, because I’m here now,” That final phrase echoed in Abed’s mind as he sat beside his friend. “I want you to know that I really care about you. I want-- I need you to know that I would never ever ditch you like that. Not in a million billion years, not even for a million dollars,”

They sat there for a few more minutes before Annie turned the corner and shouted, sprinting full speed towards the two men at the end of the hallway. Britta and Jeff followed closely after, a wave of relief washing over their faces. They all gushed about their worries and concerns. Annie was quick to tend to the small indents in Abed’s palm, and Jeff and Britta talked about how freaked they were when they realized Abed disappeared. Jeff mentioned stopping by every directing booth in the entire building to see if Abed had landed there-- he even grabbed a few pamphlets for him to flick through later. Finally, Abed gained the energy to stand up, and he walked down the hallway with his friends beside him and Troy’s fingers still laced with him.

On his way out, Abed glanced at the clock on the wall-- twenty-two minutes and twelve seconds. Abed had been surrounded by his wonderfully chaotic family for the past twenty-two minutes, and he’d never felt more secure.

#abed nadir #abed nadir x troy barnes #community #community tv #trobed #britta perry #jeff winger #annie edison #the greendale seven #abed nadir angst #troybed #s/h mention

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onlyhereforangst · 4 years

Note

Alright I have another one if you’re in the mood😝41, 54, 57

it got...steamier than expected (i blame @wanna-be-bold for her plot idea)

Bouncing away on her toes, Ellie called out in her sing-songy voice she reserved for Nick when she was trying to bribe something out of him—usually they were in a very...different setting than the bullpen, which was all the more reason to tease him with it. “They’re fumigating the lobby as we speak!” She chuckled quietly to herself at the glare to his eye when he recognized her playful tone that typically didn’t appear outside of the bedroom.

Practically skipping off too quickly finishes her assigned task she could hear Nick grumble his reply—something about her enjoying this too much—before he stalked off towards the dingy old NCIS locker room. A wicked grin split her face as an idea so tempting she just couldn’t resist, despite the risk it posed.

She hurried over to the probie on their B team and dumped her boring task on them—she had more pressing matters to attend to...

Nick sulked over to the blue-gray locker room that looked like it hadn’t seen a renovation since the building had erected. As much as he wanted to dive back into the case and finding the director, he knew he absolutely reeked. He also knew Ellie was cruel using that teasing tone she typically saved for asking him for...favors...there, in the bullpen, in front of Gibbs. He had planned on taking a steaming hot shower, but now his mind wandered to Ellie naked in his bed bartering for sexual favors with paperwork, damn arrangement they set up. Why they decided they could casually hook up without strings was beyond him. Sure it sounded like a good idea drunk on red wine and lust, but now- now after spending a haunting time in Afghanistan searching for the director, physically distant from her, he realized how much he yearned for it. And not just the sex, the interaction, the relationship they shared. He ached for it. And now here he was taking a cold shower in an ugly, old locker room trying not to think of the L word...or slapping her ass for taunting him like that as punishment.

The moment he stepped under the frigid spray Nick heard the screech of rusted hinges as the locker room door creaked open and shut in one smooth motion. He’d thought nothing of it until he didn’t hear footfalls- no man in this building was that quiet on his feet.

The ice-cold water covered his body, rivulets sending goosebumps down his aching skin. And yet Nick felt hyper-focused on the person outside his shower—the light sound of shoes being toed off, a shirt being pulled up over his head, the zipper of jeans being tugged down. Nick shook his head at the mental image he was creating of stalking a man simply undressing before a shower. An about-face and he dunked his head under the unrelenting spray.

The softest of touches, fingernails, on his back made him visibly jump. Spinning around, hand shooting down to cover himself from his unwelcome intruder and the accusatory words died on his tongue.

Ellie.

Stripped.

In his shower.

Looking downright sinful.

Her eyes flicked down to where his hand still hovered over his already growing package before snapping back up to his face and raising an eyebrow. Nick still caught in the shock, slowly straightened and removed his hand, bringing it around his back to adjust the temperature of the water. Looks like he didn’t need a cold shower after all...

No words were spoken, but their chests both heaved at the palpable tension in the three by three industry standard stall, just a paper thin mint-green shower curtain blocking them from the room. Ellie’s eyes once again dipped to see Nick’s now impressive erection and an involuntary lick of her lips drew his attention. God he’d missed those lips. Nick’s hand still hanging at his side moved on its own accord to grip his shaft, hoping- desperately wishing to alleviate the pressure he felt there. The moan that fell from Ellie’s lips at his actions did not help matters.

Speaking through gritted teeth, Nick tried to be level-headed, “Ellie…” he started, wary, “are you sure?”

Ellie’s pupils dilated and he swore her smirk deepened, “Well now I’m all wet,” she stated with a pointed look at his situation down south.

Nick swore under his breath- Ellie hadn’t even stepped under the water yet.

He remained frozen, hand never moving as she inched closer, finally under the now-heated spray. Her eyes never left his as he felt her nails graze his sensitive skin along his dick, it surely jumping at her touch.

Nick tried once more, he needed to know he’d at least tried to be responsible, “Maybe we shouldn’t…”

Ellie tsked at him, her endgame written across her face. It thrilled and terrified him—this was so unlike Ellie pre-Afghanistan, something inside her had shifted, but hell he was not complaining. Her nails continued their perusal of his length, lightly fingering his tip, and fuck, Nick thought he was about to embarrass himself.

Leaning forward slightly, Ellie’s teeth nibbled his earlobe, her whisper sending any remaining blood down below, “Need a hand?” And with that her hand brushed aside his and suddenly pumped twice- Nick saw stars.

“Fuuuuuck,” he couldn’t hold it in the second time as his head fell back into the water.

She didn’t stop, “How about two?” Her other hand joined its friend and started to twist as the first took a turn and went to cup his balls.

Nick regaining his wits, brought his hands to Ellie’s neck pulling her in for a bruising kiss- her hands never stopped. Maintaining his grip at the base of her neck, his other hand went on a journey of its own—reacquainting himself with every perfect, luscious curve of Ellie’s body. When he found the round of her ass, a hard squeeze followed by a smack sent her legs falling apart, sending their own invitation—and Nick, well he was a gentlemen, never declining such a polite invitation.

Not bothering with flourishes he plunged two fingers deep into her wet folds, it was Ellie’s turn to gasp, head falling back. His thumb joined the party as it rubbed her clit and his finger inside curled finding that sought-after spot. Nick felt her walls start to clench around his fingers and he went in for the kill. Head bending to capture a hardened peak in his teeth at the exact time he pumped those fingers deeper, he felt her warm release shatter around him- his moaned name falling from her lips.

Nick lifted his head to watch in awe as Ellie rode her orgasm down on his never-ceasing fingers. The glassy look to her eye giving way to a look of…love maybe? Nick pushed that thought down and focused on this moment. He couldn’t risk reading into something that wasn’t there- not now.

A small smile transformed Ellie’s lips, “Turns out maybe I needed a hand,” she conceded with a small chuckle.

Nick returned the chuckle but wasn’t done quite yet, and if the way she was panting was any indication- she wasn’t either.

Her eyes finally locked to his, and Nick took the opportunity to finally pull his fingers from her- her hands falling off of his pulsing shaft at the motion. In one fluid movement, Nick grabbed Ellie by the shoulders and twisted her body, she seamlessly bent at the waist, hands lifting to palm the white shower wall.

Nick captured his bottom lip in his teeth as he took the sight of her in—a fading red mark on her ass from his smack earlier, the steam rising from her back as the water collided with her skin, her chin lifting to the side in question.

When his hands drifted from her shoulders down to her hips but he made no further moves- just soaking her all in, Nick noticed her one hand disappear from the wall. He didn’t have long to wonder where it went as he cursed at the sight of her fingers at her own clit, working herself back up.

Wasting no time, Nick plunged inside her, the moan from both of them reverberating off the plastic walls. Feeling her clutch him inside was a feeling he knew he’d never tire of. One he’d always remember. A feeling of being just right in the world. His lips found the side of her neck as he pumped in and out, faster, harder- finding that release for them both quickly.

Collapsing along her back, words he never imagined saying, escaped his lips, “I love you, Ellie.” The moment they left, his breathing seized- they hadn’t said that yet, they’d only been casual. What the fuck had he just done?

Without a second of hesitation, Ellie replied softly, “I love you too, Nick,” and he swore he could hear the smile in her whisper.

Afghanistan had been hell, but he’d do it all over again if it got them here.

#ncis #ellick #torres x bishop #fanfic #fic request #SMUT #i'm back on my bullshit #thanks to laura and T

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milwrites · 4 years

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Weird that it happened twice, right?

chapter four - masterlist

a/n: i’m really proud of this one, it’s a real favourite of mine, and is the end of where the story follows canon. obviously no one has died that does in-game, and i intend it to stay that way :) italics are john/narrator as usual :)))

word count: 3k

T/W: sexual assault, death, blood, lots of swearing.

Fingertips brushed against each other once more as guards pulled us in opposing ways, the 17 men being separated from the 2 women. I resisted violently, the men restraining me simply slipping a gag into my screaming mouth. A yell from John and I was thrown into the second cell in the past month. The women around me were terrifying to begin with, all of them much older than me and they spoke with not an ounce of tenderness, but I appeared to bring out the maternal nature in all of them. Perhaps the sight of a battered teenager in a prison that most died in before they were even hung softened even the hardest of hearts. They all seemed to protect me in some way; a few offered me some of their food from between the bars, others sliding me illicit bars of floral soap. I didn’t know what to make of it, didn’t think I deserved it until many of them opened up. They were mainly killers, but most had exacted revenge on a man who wronged them, and then kept killing. I told them stories in return. I had been educated as a member of the upper class, even if I had been treated poorly, and could recall many tales that had offered me escape from my life. I told told them stories of the mighty Thor and devious Loki from the norse myths, and managed to condense entire plays of Shakespeare into about ten minutes. It let us leave the penitentiary for a while, go to Asgard or Venice or the faerie kingdom of a Midsummer night's Dream.

John didn’t get the same level of closeness with his inmates. The men were killers or worse, and while John could play the act better than all of them, he stayed silent as much as possible. His thoughts were so loud as to overpower his voice, he could feel death coming once more and this time he knew Vesta wouldn’t appear to save him. He wished he could have said good bye to Jack. He wished he could have told the kid how much he loved him, how proud he was, how he was going to be a great man one day. He knew Arthur would look after him, and hoped that upon seeing the man assume responsibility for a child, Mary Linton would return to him, and they would raise Jack as best they could. If not, he consoled himself that Sean and Karen adored the child, would spoil him rotten of course, but he would be happy. He wondered if he’d been good enough. He decided he hadn’t. Decided that a good father would have quit this life long ago, a good father most definitely wouldn’t be hung for his crimes before his child could celebrate his 5th birthday. Tears were falling freely, as he thought about the boy being told neither parent would return home, that he would never ride down to the river to see deer with Vesta again, never play cowboys wearing his father’s hat again. He bit his fingernails to stumps and his lips a bleeding mess just considering every one of his past mistakes.

A prison guard rattled my cell to wake me. My sleep was fitful, dreams bloody. I’d braided my hair days ago, flyaways sticking to my sweaty face, which to the guard must have seemed like an invitation to enter my cell and pin me to the wall. I scratched and bit and kicked at him, my every effort doing nothing against the large man. I was crying great gulping tears, terrified at what was about to happen and even in the moment feeling guilty as I thought of John. The man let out a choked gurgle, the wet sound of blood filling his throat.

The woman in the cell beside her had been hiding a shiv for weeks, not planning on using it but keeping hold nevertheless. She had lodged it in the man’s meaty neck, and I pushed him off me, shaking with residual fear and snot still dribbling down my chin. “We- we’ve got to-“ I sniffed. “Got to get him out- and hide the shiv.” I never got the chance to move him. Other guards had heard the racket and were gathering outside the cell. A younger man pulled him out before locking my cell again, and I cried out in horror as they shot my saviour there and then. Gone. She didn’t cry out as she fell, her eyes only widened and her lips parted in a silent gasp. A fresh set of tears gilded my cheeks, the woman having given her life only to protect me from the assault almost every woman in the jail had been through. I wondered if it had been the kindness I had tried to offer, or how young I seemed, or even that it was that enough women had been through hell at the hands of the guards, but it would stick with me forever, the selflessness of a self-proclaimed murderer.

I felt hollow and empty, like the fear of death had been wiped from my mind. Death was so casual here. There were hangings every day, multiple at once. The guards told me regularly that I was to be hung with Marston, and it gave me comfort to know the last face she saw would be the one she loved most dearly. It even set me counting down the days, eagerly waiting to die at the promise of seeing him once more. How far away England seemed, that simplicity of life only punctuated by threats and callous words.

I didn’t see the balloon pass over, and was unaware of the commotion it had caused. I also didn’t hear the shots fired as a set of guards were killed out in the fields and an ultimatum was shouted over the prison walls. And what an ultimatum it was.

My cell door was opened by a scared looking boy, barely older than myself, the grip he held on my shoulders tight enough to bruise. I knew in that moment my time had come, and wryly wondered if this would get me to Valhalla. I welcomed death at that point, as it meant seeing John, maybe for all eternity. I held my head high.

Until I was greeted by an ever-so familiar voice.

“She don’t look too bad all things considered. Head’s still up high ain’t it, Mrs Adler?” The deep tenor of Arthur Morgan was joined by Mrs Sadie Adler’s western drawl. “Let’s get Marston and then we can assess our wounds maybe.”

I gaped at the sound of them, speaking lowly to the boy still gripping me tightly. “Well I’ll be damned.” It had been long decided in my mind that no one was coming for us; the first few weeks had me nursing a candle of hope that spluttered out soon after.

Cobblestones gave way to weed ridden grass under my bare feet even as the cast iron gate of Sisika Penitentiary groaned and shuddered its way open. I stumbled across the threshold, over it, and out onto the island, wasting no time in careering into arthur. He slipped me a revolver and a clip of ammunition. Another protesting screech of ill-fitted hinges and the gates rolled open for a second time.

He’d grown a beard, I noted with a face of disgust.

The miserable expression he’d worn for over a month faded away to a tentative smile at the moment he saw her wrinkled nose and creased brows. A niggling voice in his head hissed poisonous accusations against the girl: she hated him now, she had been hoping he rotted there so she could leave and live a better life. She suffocated it with a beaming grin, leaving Arthur’s side to cannon into him at full pelt, only knocking most of the air out his lungs. She mumbled into his chest, a slurred comment about how much she’d missed him, peppered with expletives and the odd nonsensical noise. A low rumble of mirth and a sharp exhalation of air was his only reply, him not trusting words enough to express himself.

“Ah hate to break up this heartfelt reunion but they are startin’ to shoot at us.” Reminded Arthur, the world having faded quite away for us both. Indeed, bullets were raining down from the battlements, being blocked only by the brick wall the convicts and their rescuers had gone and hidden behind. Chunks of plaster flew from the wall, chinks of light shining through. Sadie started issuing orders.

“John, (Y/N), make a run for it now ‘n’ we’ll cover you. There’s a boat in the marshland.”

We bolted. John seized my hand and held tight, his long strides easily outstripping my much smaller ones, and practically dragging me across the fields. Engaging the guards was suicide, between us we had 12 shots while each guard would have around 16 - and would be on horseback too. Instead we hid, darting from cover to cover, Arthur and Sadie leaving piles of bodies in their ever destructive wake. I saw the boat with a gasp, the sudden realisation that I was still alive, still with John and oh-

We would see Jack again.

John clambered into the boat first, giving me a hand climbing in. Two neat piles of clothes sat in the bottom of it, one with a hat on top and the other with- “Are those my guns?” pure delight shine through my question, my eyes lighting up as I spied the distinctive blued metal of my pistols. I rummaged a little more in the pile to find that they were my clothes too, and I scrambled to get changed while we waited for Sadie and Arthur. John did the same, happier to see his hat than guns, but expressing enjoyment at the reassuring weight of them at his hip. I let out another delighted laugh; I had found that Sadie had fully stocked my bandolier with ammunition, it spanning my chest with shiny cartridges peeping out from their leather keepers.

The gunfire came closer, Sadie taking a running jump into the boat and Arthur following closely, giving the boat a powerful push before entering it himself. For a while the only noise was the splash of the oars hitting the smooth water and the breathless recovery of the fighters, until John spoke up. “I don’t know how to thank you. I thought Dutch was gonna orphan Jack if I'm bein’ honest.” Arthur and Sadie exchanged apprehensive glances. Arthur inhaled deeply, looking pained as he explained himself. “Dutch, well he didn’t exactly sanction us comin’ for yer. He actually told us not to. Said he had a plan and such but it was bullshit so we came anyway. So don’t expect a great welcome I guess.”

The silence returned again, none of us knowing exactly how to respond.

beaver hollow - 1899

John didn’t know how many more times he could cradle her close to him like this, broken and beaten. He held back his rage for Jack’s sake, who was soundly sleeping leant against his father’s other side, too tired to fully register their return. He hated that his every dream ended with her dying in his arms, and that he had to wake up and see her dreaming the same dreams. She shifted in her sleep, muttering something that sounded distinctly like a threat, and moved closer to him. Beaver Hollow set him on edge. They didn’t have a proper tent, more a canvas shelter with two bedrolls under it, and he found himself shielding her with his body from prying eyes when she woke up in distress most nights.

I hadn’t told him what happened in Sisika. It seemed needless to me; he already knew it had been hell, because he’d been though it too. I didn’t need any more pity from him either.

The early hours of the morning cast a rosy glow over our prone bodies and the quiet stillness of the camp. Neither us them were asleep, both pretending for the others sake that we were.

“John? I need you over here a moment.” Dutch hollered from the other side of the hollow. Not receiving more response, he strode over to them, calling John again. “Can it wait?” I had no trace of patience in the way I spoke to him. I hadn’t challenged Dutch's seeming lack of action to spring them from prison, but the deep injustice was constantly boiling beneath my skin. “You aren’t busy, Miss (L/N). Neither is John.” Her tone had riled Dutch and he talked coldly to her, still taking the moral high ground as ever. I had sat up to speak to him, a shawl draped across my shoulders to for warmth. John started to stir, placing a restraining hand at my arm that I ignored. Dutch turned from me entirely, addressing John about a job he wanted to send him on. I fucking snapped. Stood up and started talking. “Shut the fuck up. Shut up. How can you ask him to go out on a job for you right now? We have been back less than 24 hours, Dutch, his son hasn’t even been able to speak to him yet. Remember his son? The one you were more than happy to orphan as long as it didn’t mess up your goddamn plan? You claim to care about every one of us, and yet when it really comes to it it’s only Micah fucking bell that you rescue every single time. You sprung him from the gallows within a week, and let me and john rot there for more than a month, let jack be parentless for a month.” I laughed a spite filled laugh. “But fuck it, eh? We’re back now aren’t we? Never mind the fact that we were beaten to shit in the meantime, never mind the fact that he might not be ready to head out again. At least you still have the money.” A crowd was gathering, Micah moving to Dutch and urging him to shut me up. Dutch shrugged him off, letting me continue. “You know. A woman died for me. She had no ties to me, had no idea who the flying fuck I was, and yet she gave her life to protect me. A guard tried to rape me. In my cell. And she stuck a shiv through his throat. That woman was a killer, a murderer, a convict, and yet she was willing to die for me having known me three weeks. She did more for me than you. I have stole and lied and why? Because you asked me to.” My voice had broken, tears streaming down my cheeks and yet never breaking eye contact with Dutch. John’s hand reached for his gun, Arthur stopping him, at my words. I didn’t look at him, but reached my hand out to meet his, gripping his fingers tightly. I swallowed. Turned around and scooped a now awake Jack into my arms, wordlessly carrying him to the horses as he begged to see Bonnie.

Everything changed for Dutch in those moments. He watched the girl carry the boy toward the horse that had been so aggressive without her, her small body relaxing as she patted her mare. Piglet followed over, then John, who settled next to her with his arm around her waist. A family. He saw then that it was a family that without Arthur and Sadie would have been broken beyond repair, the child an orphan and the two animals never to see their mistress again. The sight of Jack wriggling from (Y/N)’s arms to play with the terrier forced him to recall watching the boy crying inconsolably into her wiry fur. It had been 2 weeks since John and (Y/N) had gone, and Jack had thrown as many tantrums as he could muster to bring them home. Exhausted, hurt and with nothing having changed, the boy had sat on the floor and cried floods of silent tears, which Piglet had come over to lick away. The dog had sat herself as close as she could before him and allowed him to just clutch at her. Dutch had ignored it as best he could, ignored Hosea too, refusing to take responsibility and instead letting Micah assure him that it was for the greater good. He should have known the man was only too happy to let them die. He felt a fool. “Quit wallowin’.” Arthur's voice cut through his self-pity. Dutch glared at him for a moment before nodding and moving to leave his tent. Arthur caught his arm. “I tell you this now, Dutch, I will kill Micah myself if you don’t. he’s a rat. he’s why Pinkertons been findin’ us so damn fast.” His voice was low with anger. “You do it. I'm done killing.”

We were still playing with the horses, I had myself wrapped up and grooming Bonnie's sleek coat properly, luxuriating in the way I was able to talk to John about nothing in particular. Jack and Piglet had tired already, sat side by side with Old boy grazing beside them. Dutch cleared his throat. I didn’t look up from the knot I was pulling from my mare’s tail. John raised his head, face set and arms folded, expecting confrontation.

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it. I know that.” Dutch began with his hands as if in surrender. “But I can only offer you my heartfelt apologies - I failed you, my son, you and your family. And vesta I-“

I turned around to look at him, my face already softening. “I can never understand how it must have been. But I'm getting you out of this. All of you. No more plans. I was thinking-“ I cut him off, filled with a rush off forgiveness for him, an urge to hug him taking over me. I never had that much self-restraint. I looked up at him from the hug. “Let’s start again.”

We watched the sun setting across Roanoke ridge, basking in the residual warmth before the wintery chill of November air really set in. He pulled me in even closer, his warmth spreading into me, he and kissed the top of my head.

“Let’s start again.”

#john marston x reader smut #rdr2 #john marston #john marston x reader

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fanficaficionado · 3 years

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okay, i know i said i would be starting with things i knew and loved. hell, i even had a fic from the fandom im currently ass-deep in all lined up!! but then i procrastinated, and i lost motivation, got distracted by my scheduled post-holiday shutdown, and something else finally kicked my ass into gear. so this blog's first true introduction to the world will not, in fact, be a post where i worship the very ground my favorite fic writers walk upon.

no, today we are talking about Ascent into Madness by cesium_sheep

((spoilers, obviously))

Now im going to preface this by saying that this criticism is subjective and based in my opinion. I did genuinely enjoy this story, and i did not at any point feel the urge to launch myself into the sun with nothing but the pure force of my rage, causing the sun to explode and consume planet earth in a scorching hell-blast and decimating all life on our tiny little space rock, which even some of my favorites are guilty of because in some stories characters just love to waffle about ((especially in my preferred reading material which puts romance at a very significant focus)). This story just isn't for me.

I'm going to explain why, and believe me when i say i am being as gentle as i physically can with this story because it is not objectively offensive to my very being, It's a good read and setting aside the problems i have with it i enjoyed it.

I keep repeating that i don't hate this story because i do not want to be accused of baseless hate, not because of reputation or anything but because being accused of something i know i didn't do sets off the same sensation that i get from rubbing my fingernails on egg cartons, the one of the back of my brain being assaulted by the mayonnaise-coated fingers of satan himself. Damn i should really get to the criticism before this just becomes an in depth description of my very soul's adverse reaction to the cream in queen anne chocolate cherries.

anyways.

The thing about this story is that, to me, it feels.. unfinished. Or at the very least like it wandered off its intended course. It leaves me with a feeling of mild dissatisfaction and the taste of confusion in my mouth. I think this problem is best summarized by the fact that, in the first chapter, it is set up that rose is in some sort of hospital, and that dave thinks she is in the grasp of some delusion, and the second chapter sets up the retroactive explanation for how it got to this point. See, what i expected was to be caught up to that point in the story, reach that point in time again, and then progress from there.

But that first chapter?? With the hospital, the delusions, the brick through the window with the radio attached?? Never brought up again, not even once. It is completely discarded and never even thought about. The story even stops trying to set up that scene after a certain point.

To put it in homestuck terms, because i'm a loser, a time player, and come on we're talking about a homestuck fic here you know i have to do this, it feels like we started a loop and then branched off the alpha timeline so completely we aren't even a part of the metaphorical timeline-tree anymore. It nags at my brain man, it's one of the main things that fuelled my motivation in writing this. It feels lost and wandering and it confuses me in a bone deep sorta way.

The second thing that gets to me is the complete lack of information presented about what, exactly, the fuck is going on. I have no idea how we got from point A to point B, not just because it completely disconnects from point A not even halfway through, but also because there's a lot of plot threads thrown in haphazardly and then never extended upon. There's a mention of jake and john's respective guardians knowing something about the story's big bad and all the mystical bullshit that follows along behind him, but that is never followed up on even a little. No one questions why they know, despite this information being so rare that literally only two families and a single group of aliens seem to have access to it. It just is a thing and then whoops, hand musta slipped because that bad boy is out the window and is facing the combined nonexistent mercy of gravity and this ten story drop.

The main plot has this same problem, in feeling like you get just enough info to keep it going forward. There's a sword in rose's umbrella basket or whatever the hell it's called, and it's implied a future dave put it there for his past self, but do we get confirmation that it was him?? Do we see that loop completed?? No, it is just used as a driving force for rose to try and push the fact that dave's got Timey powers. It feels like i'm being pulled by the hand through this story because it only gives just barely enough information to keep this crazy train rolling and then goes so far as to leave fucking time loops hanging there incomplete which okay i might be getting a little peeved about that but can you blame me?? Can you really blame me at all??

Maybe i am judging the plot too harshly, after all i was forewarned not to read for the plot in the summary because it's pretty slow and wandering. So let's get into something else then, yes?? Let's hop to the relationships.

The relationships, too, fall prey to this complete lack of any meaningful focus on any piece of information ever. I'd swear the writer was allergic if that didn't seem too harsh a description. It's a whole lot of telling without any showing, a cardinal sin in writing. We get a conversation with kanaya that doesn't suffer the disconnect from all things that the rest of the story seems haunted by. It's actually really a neat little conversation and i find it kind of wholesome how kanaya talks about rose and i personally think this interaction to be entirely too short. Then kanaya mentions karkat and apparently there's some of davekat's standard romantic tension happening off-screen because dave starts to get flustered and ponders what that means. And once again a plot thread is thrown to the winds because we never get another whiff of it.

Actually on the topic of davekat, dave just naturally gravitates to karkat and then they're stuck together like glue, so stuck in fact that dave dies for karkat because dave apparently forgets the golden rule of "If you have time to jump in front of someone then you have time to push them out of the way" and then ignores the added bit i spitefully wrote on the ancient stone tablet of Things That Make Sense in neon orange sharpie that says "Especially if you have time to have a discussion about your choices with an ambiguously-dead girl. Pull your thumb out of your ass, dave, nobody has to die here, magic option number three was not the one you picked."

Of course, this is a fanfiction, these are characters i already know. I know how these characters would interact, i know how their relationship develops in-canon and i know that given the chance these fuckers become goddamn inseparable. But that doesn't excuse the fact that it is all tell and no show, we dont see how it gets from "You're one of the only familiar faces in a group of strangers and i am not about to start interacting with new people unless i have to" to "Here let me die heroically for you and then be revived for no explainable reason besides Because The Wizard Of God Says So." I have no reason to be invested in this or even give a half-ounce shit despite it literally becoming something that the climax hinges on. And then rose and kanaya are just inexplicably,, together?? Right at the end?? And while i am happy that the lesbians get to be in love everything is off screen and nothing is ever explained, not even like one time, and god it's just so confusing. I am so confused.

But again, maybe i'm being unfair, once again the very tags of this fic are telling me that the relationships are not the focus and only really tagged so people can filter it out. I suppose i should judge the characters, then.

From what i remember there are sixteen characters, excluding ((who i believe to be, as it is once again not explained or explicitly stated to be)) caliborn at the end, with speaking roles. Five of those characters retain any narrative relevance for more than a nanosecond. A good chunk of the trolls arent even mentioned by name, with eridan and i think sollux being mentioned, and who i think to be sollux speaks when rose and dave are first brought to the trolls' apartment but again, the fog of uncertainty clouds all things and i don't have my handy dandy leafblower on me to airblast that shit out of my way. Of the five characters with any focus on them, two are relegated to the role of supporting character, with karkat joining that number more often than not. That leaves us with dave and rose, who are ultimately as a whole unaffected by their experiences. They do not learn anything, they do not grow or change. Sure rose freaks out about her perception of reality, but that falls flat because it's more tell and no show again. Dave freaks out, as he rightfully should in this situation, but there is no arc. There is no significant change in anything but moving toward the boss fight with the big baddie.

There aren't any particularly interesting interactions between these characters, either, i cannot recall one time in which i laughed, or felt much of anything really. They all fall into a state of Existing while also feeling like they aren't doing a whole lot. It's more noticeable in retrospect but these characters just Do Not feel alive, they seem incredibly flat at times and it's hard to notice while you're reading but looking back it stands out so painfully and it makes me very sad.

If i'm not supposed to read for the plot, and i'm not supposed to read for the relationships, and i can't read for the characters, then what is this story meant to be read for?? The only other thing i can think of is the mystery and sorry pal, but that's a plot, which we have already established doesn't really have a whole lot going for it because while your mystery sure is there it is currently stinking up that rug you shoved half the answers under because those mysteries aren't the ones you want to focus on.

Is it simply meant to pass the time?? Is there no deeper purpose besides keeping yourself entertained as the hours tick by?? Because if so, it at least accomplished that. Despite its faults, it kept my attention for the entire fifty one chapters, and it passed my time.

There are other nitpicks i have, but that's more based around the writing style on a more technical level. The chapters are too short for my personal taste, and there are far too many cliffhangers, these things i will not condemn as the writer gave a good reason for the latter and obviously no writer is obligated to churn out 2,500 words per chapter unless they damn well want to.

Ultimately, this story is neither good nor bad. It is straightforward in that it burns any other plot threads besides the main one on the sacrificial alter of The Writer Does What The Writer Wants, it's a bit too ambiguous and under-explained for my tastes, but there is nothing egregiously offensive in it. It is a story that exists. I wouldn't read it again, but i wouldn't not read it again, and i don't even come close to regretting the time i spent reading it ((outside of the fact that it is currently almost nine am and i haven't slept but that one is my own fault)).

I scrolled passed this story in its beginnings, assuming it would not be particularly mindblowing, and now that i've read it i know that i was entirely correct. Read it if you want, or don't, just don't go in expecting something life changing. I suggest picking out a spot on your schedule where you have nothing to do and will no doubt be bored out of your mind. I sincerely doubt you'll regret it.

#homestuck #homestuck fanfic #fanfiction #god what else do i even tag this as. fuckin..#fanfiction critique #????#i feel like a child #i am but a little boy lost in the deep dark woods and i have no idea where i am going #there is no map for this shit #also as i write this tag it is now 9:52 am #a whole hour after i finished writing this monstrosity #because editing this stuff to make it somewhat coherent is a task and a half #i ramble worse than any homestuck character and i have proof too. go ahead. challenge me. i dare you. i know im right #i don't know why or how i got to the bit about queen anne chocolate cherries but i think its funny so fuck it its staying in #again if the author of this fic somehow comes across this and doesn't want this shit on my blog or wants to be tagged like let me know plea #i am trying desperately to not step on any toes or hearts here but i was not Raised so if i fuck up please just tell me #i dont wanna be publicly hung via tumblr anon attacks and callout posts that are poorly made at best and wildly inaccurate at worst #anyways thanks for reading i guess i have no idea how to tie this shit off and it Shows lol #hope i did okay #fuck it im not rereading this anymore im sending it out into the world #off you go little timmy suck it up and face the judgement of strangers

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afrodeitiess · 4 years

Text

Never Ending

𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: Shawn Hunter x Angela Moore 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5186 Words

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐔𝐏.

That’s how their story starts. It shouldn’t be a surprise and it isn’t. She sees it coming, for months actually. In the little things like how she can no longer find the things in him to make her laugh even when she was upset at him as she usually does. He pulls away much quicker when he kisses her, and it feels cold when he is next to her. She sees it coming and it still hurts when it ends.

They were never supposed to be forever. They weren’t Cory and Topanga and they’d never been. Words like forever, soulmate; those words were never in their vocabulary but somewhere along the way, it became possible and she could see herself spending her life with him. And what she saw, she liked it. She wanted it.

Angela is heartbroken.

The words feel like an insult for so long. It doesn’t quite do it justice. There is a large gaping black hole where her heart should be and sucks the joy out of her days and the colour from her world. It’s almost sad to mention but heartbreak doesn’t capture it. For a long time, she fixates on the breakup, relaying the few moments in her mind. It’s not one event but a long string of moments that seem to inevitably lead to their ruination.

His words replay in her mind. The expression on his face imprinted in her mind no matter how hard she tries to escape it. In her minds’ eye, he is warm and doe-eyed, his hair a mess on his head, indicating that he just got out of bed. She doesn’t need his hair to tell that though. He’s been missing for two days and she’s been worried out of her mind.

Before he can say something sweet and smile that dopey smile that never fails to make her resolve disappear completely, she speaks. “I think we should break up.”

His eyes go wide, the sleepy expression disappearing immediately. Shawn squints at her and raises his brow. “I disagree.”

“No, I want to break up.” She bites into her bottom lip. “I’m breaking up with you, Shawn.” Her voice breaks and it sounds less sure that she’d intended for it to be.

His pain is clear on his face, his expression taken aback for a moment and Angel decides that she can’t stand to look at him. She moves to turn around, but Shawn grabs her arm before she can, tugging her towards him lightly. She moves, although she hates herself for it, as it seems that she can never help but to be pulled towards him. Shawn laces her fingers with his lightly and stares down at her behind soft eyes.

“Hey, come on. You don’t have to do that. We can talk about it.” His other hand moves strands of hair out of her face and his fingers hold her lightly. “I love you.”

Angela is weak. It is for this reason that she sinks into his touch, allowing herself to be held by him one more time because this time, it really is goodbye. No matter how many times in the past she’s told herself that. She’ll never be held by him again. Not like this.

“Where were you?” She manages to push herself from his hold, although it takes all of the willpower left in her. She feels cold without him.

Shawn struggles to answer. He opens his mouth to speak but no words come out and his expression is contorted into an expression of shame. It’s written all of his features. For a moment, she wants him to convince her that it’s not what she thinks and assure her that she’s wrong. This might be the only time that she doesn’t want to be right. But he hangs his head slightly and won’t look her in her eyes.

It’s true.

“So, you were drinking again?”

He stumbles over his words, as he attempts to explain. Shawn reaches out to her and Angel crosses her arms aver herself shielding herself from him. She won’t let herself be hurt by him anymore. “It was just this time. I tried to get back but then I was stuck and—”

“I’m tired, Shawn. I’m really tired and I’m sorry if it makes me a bad person but you’re not you when you drink.” She inhales deeply. Angela doesn’t feel tears and she’s grateful. She doesn’t think that she can get through this with tears. Her nails dig into her arms. She’ll miss him. “And you’re drinking more and more every day. And I’ve tried to help you. I’m there for you but me being here for you isn’t helping you get better. I’ve tried. The intervention. The meetings.”

“I’ll go to them again, please.” He’s pleading with her now, taking her hand and holding them in both of his. It makes her feel small. Shawn’s eyes are watery, tears welling up in his eyes, making the blue of them seem brighter. It takes her by surprise. She’s never expected to see actual tears from him. He was usually so good at hiding his emotions. Now he didn’t seem to make the effort. “I love you.”

The words threaten to weaken what is left of her resolve. Her fingernails make crescent moon shaped marks in the flesh of her palms. She takes a step back.

“And I believe you, but I don’t think what’s enough. You can’t want to get sober for me or you’ll never be sober. And I love you, sober or not, but I can’t keep taking myself apart to put you back together.”

Her heart feels numb. It’s nothing like she imagined. They might not be one for forever, but she thinks about the life that they possibly could have had, and she thinks that it is a good one. And more importantly, the one that they’d had before, that was good too. Better than good. But she means what she says and hard as it may be, they don’t need each other right now.

“Please don’t go.”

She does anyway, despite the fact that her legs feel like lead and her heart is heavy in her chest. It’s what is best for both of her, she tries to convince herself. It really is goodbye this time. And she swears that she really believes it.

They meet again on a train of all places. All of their hopes of secretly being reunited during their years of college as they had been before had not panned out as they’d hoped and after a while, it became easier to simply avoid each other pretend that they had not been a part of each other’s world at some point. It’s less painful that way. At least it’s what they think.

They meet again on a train in France. She’s there on a trip, a well-deserved break from the constant hectic movement of her life. Moving from one place to another, especially for work, takes its toll. Shawn is there for work. They spend the night together, running around the city and reminiscing about what they used to be. Somewhere along the way, they simply don’t stop. They both fall into the habit of being around each other and find comfort in one another. “Shawn, if I asked you to hold me right now, would it be selfish?”

There’s a shift in the weight on the bed. She doesn’t want to turn around to look at him. “Possibly.”

There’s a slight pause. “Would you hold me, Shawn?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Of course.” His arms wrap around her, his heart pressed against her back. They don’t talk but they don’t need to. His arms at that moment, feels like home. As much as she tries to convince herself otherwise, it’s Shawn. It always has been. She doesn’t voice her thoughts. Angela keeps them to herself as if they are something volatile and completely capable of breaking her.

But they fall into the routine of simply being around each other quickly. There is not much need to discuss much. They both happen to be exactly what the other needs. And suddenly, everything changes because of three words spoken into the dead of the night.

Angela begins to believe that time, here, has been the determining factor in their relationship. They are right for each other, but they weren’t ready before. And life, through all its storms and valleys, had weathered them and given them both space to grow individually before they can grow back together. She, for one, is grateful for it.

Because Shawn Hunter, strange as it might be, is her great love story.

She feels cold, wet hands snake around her body, holding her close from behind. One is planted on her hip and the other takes hold of the curve of her breast. Angela’s lips curl into a smile as he buries his face into the crook of her neck breathing deeply. Her heart swells slightly and that makes her smile more.

Kisses line her neck softly, starting out as small pecks planted along her bare skin. She shivers at the top. They become more aggressive and much more persuasive as his hands on her grip tighter. Angela allows herself to close her eyes quickly, leaning into his embrace. Her fingers go slack around the dish that she holds. She feels it beginning to slip from her grip and Angel catches herself, pushing herself forward, using his back as support.

Angela pushes him off her slightly and a low groan leaves his lips.

“This is not a good time.” She pauses. “I have dishes to finish and you know it takes forever. We won’t get anything done if we’re too busy messing around.”

He kisses her lips quickly and she indulges him, allowing herself to return the kiss but pulling away before it becomes so deep that she has a difficult time moving on. He holds onto her waist. “So, let’s not get anything done. We can stay in bed forever and just never be apart for the rest of our lives.”

She raises her brow at him. “And for food?”

“We don’t ever have to eat. We’re in love. We’ll be sustained by our love alone for the rest of our lives.”

She pauses, turning to look at him with an incredulous expression. “That has to be the corniest thing that you have ever said in your entire life.”

He makes a face as if he can’t imagine that those words truly came from his life. “I know. It didn’t feel right to me either.” The effect that she has on him. Shawn isn’t completely sure that she’s aware of its true extent. She kisses him quickly.

“But I’m serious. We don’t have to do this. We can rob banks for a living and never work or fix broken hinges and wash dishes. We can live on the road for the rest of our lives, moving from hotel to hotel. We’ll be like Bonnie and Clyde.”

“But make it sexy?”

“But make it sexy.” He nods at her, waggling his brow at her in a suggestive manner.

“And we’ll steal food and leave no record of our existence behind.”

“That’s my girl.”

“You are aware that they died, right, babe?”

He grips her ass with both his hands drawing her closer to him. The sudden motion causes the glass dish in her hands to fall to the ground with a clatter, shattering as it makes an impact. Fragments of broken glass go flying to different corners of the room that she’s certain she’ll be picking up days later. Her body is pressed directly against his, as he’d pulled her towards him when the dish fell. At the moment, Shawn had managed to chase every thought of the broken dish from her mind.

Instead, she focuses on the way that he holds her, his arms wrapped around her midsection and her back flush against his front. There’s a very obvious suggestive meaning to it but there’s something more subtle behind it as well. His arms around her feel protective, even if he is attempting to protect her from an inanimate object. Still, it’s reassuring and a clear reminder of what he’d promised her.

“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” he whispers beside her ear, his warm breath fanning against her skin making her all the more aware of the lack of distance between them. She turns hot beneath his gaze and it’s crazy to her that he can still manage to do that. “But I would gladly die for you, wife.”

She grins involuntarily.

Angel turns around in his arms, putting her arms around his neck. Over his shoulder, she can see the door to their bedroom laying on the ground where he seems to have abandoned it. It is one of the several things about their new flat that they have to fix. It is, for all it’s worth, a good find but there is rarely anything good that happens without a few fixes. And lucky for her, she’s married to a fixer.

“As would I, husband.” She kisses him deeply, their tongues meet. It is quite the contrast from a few years ago where it might have taken them a moment to get past the strange invasive awkwardness of another person taking up much space. Now they fit together easily without many thoughts and it feels like steady waves beating against her heart. Angela pulls back much to his protest.

Her lips move against her when she speaks. “But there will be no need for that.”

“At least not if you give your darling wife a hand and clean up the mess that you just made so she doesn’t cut herself and bleed out in your arms.”

His eyes narrow at her and the brief moment of irritation—or slight anger—at her words gives her a chance to slip away. “That is so dark. It’s not funny.” His voice is steady, but his eyes give away just how much it affects him. Not much scares him but losing her, that scares him. And he doesn’t take that lightly.

Angela raises her hands in the air in a small surrender, backing away from him without watching her path. Shawn shakes his head at her as he picks up a broom from the corner. “You are so lucky that I love you.”

“You’re damn right.”

She doesn’t speak for a long time. When it happens, it feels as if a part of her leaves permanently as well. She feels hollow and empty. Angela cannot stand to look at herself in the mirror. She cannot stand to do much.

It doesn’t dawn on her until the craziness of it all has passed and all of the nurses have stopped coming into the hospital room every few minutes to make sure that something more hadn’t happened. Angela is finally all alone in the silence of it all and it’s nearly deafening. She feels alone. It’s not easy to reconcile the truth with herself. That in the past three months, she has not felt lonely for a moment. Because she never was, not until a few days ago. Although, up until a few days ago, she’d been pregnant and expecting a child. And now she’s not.

Angela had not been entirely sure if she was been ready for a baby in the first place. Shawn had surprisingly been the one who was most excited at the thought of raising a child who would literally behalf of her and him. He had been so excited about it. She was the one who had been reserved. She hadn’t wanted to get too excited about a baby, worried about repeating her mother’s mistakes. And now she doesn’t even have the chance to try.

God, what if she’s killed their baby? What if somehow her body had known that she wasn’t mentally ready and that is the reason that their baby is dead?

Silent sobs escape her lips and she curls up into herself, her fingers gripping the clean hospital's pillowcase. She doesn’t bother to silence her sobs and to his credit, Shawn allows her to cry as much as she needs to. It’s killing him, to hear the sounds that she makes and know that there is nothing that he can do to take away her pain. He feels some of it—after all, that was his child as well—but it’s not the same and there is no way for him to compare it. He’s not the one who has carried their unborn child and felt the movement. It’s not the same. It will never be the same.

But he sits at the foot of the bed, his hands draped over her feet. His form acts as a protection to her although the things that she really needs protection from are not external.

She dreams for the first time that night. In her dreams, everything is red. There is blood everywhere. Every surface is coated in the stuff, crimson red and thick. The image is burned into her mind. Dark liquid pooling between her legs and the entire world had stopped for a moment. Angela wakes up in a scream, her entire body trembling uncontrollably. It seems that even in her sleep, she can’t escape her grief.

He’s still at the foot of her bed when she wakes.

Shawn is by her side, within seconds, holding her as she stares into the darkness, her eyes focused on nothing. Her mouth is frozen in a scream. There are tears rolling down her face, staining her cheeks and her body racks against his embrace. She doesn’t speak and it terrifies him but Shawn fills the silence. “I am so sorry. I am so so sorry.” He doesn’t know what else he could possibly say that could help her. “I am so sorry.” He holds her that way, repeating the words until eventually, she’s calm. She falls asleep in his arms.

She doesn’t speak for days. It feels as if a piece of herself is missing. When she does finally begin to bounce back, Shawn is there. He is the only good part of this, as her entire world feels as like it’s falling apart but even he can’t take away just how awful it is.

Angela heals, slow as it may seem. She heals and eventually it becomes another scar on her heart that scabs over never completely gone. Their marriage stays together, and her husband is her rock. She can’t seem to get past the conversation of children. He doesn’t push her especially since what they lost but he wants children and she can tell. She wants children too, even if it is harder for her to admit. But every time that she begins to feel as if she might be coming to terms with somebody’s mother, there are the hangups. The little part that she can’t get over.

It takes years for her to finally figure out what she wants. And it takes a pregnancy test.

Angela sits beside her husband, on their ground. His hands held hers in his. They are on the bathroom floor, the discarded box of the pregnancy test on the ground. Her knee bounces uncontrollably. “It will be fine, babe and whatever the results are, we will be fine.” He kisses her lips. “I promise that I will be here, and I will try with everything that I have to be the best father to a possible child.”

She grins at him. “I know.” Her fingers tighten around the stick. “You will be the best father. And we’d have the best children.”

“The absolute best.”

“Beautiful children who are smart and well behaved.”

He plays with the ring on her finger. “But not snooty and they have to know how to have fun.”

“Absolutely,” she whispers through smiles.

“And our kid has to be able to play at least one sport.”

Her eyes widen at him. “That’s your deal-breaker?”

“Not a deal-breaker. Nothing could ever be a deal-breaker for me, not when you’re involved.” She places her head on his shoulder. “And our kid would grow up without our abandonment issues because we would be there for them. Always. No matter what. And we would show them how to love right from the start. They’ll be better than us.”

Angela inhales deeply, her eyes shut. Her finger squeezes his. “I’m going to say something and it’s completely crazy, but I’ve been thinking about it for a while now and I want to get it all out before I have a chance to take it back.”

“Okay.”

“I want kids, Shawn. I want to have a little me and a little you and I want to raise children with you and watch them grow up as we grow old together. I want all of it with you, Shawn and I think that you do too. But I don’t want to have kids. I don’t think that I could do it again. I just can’t imagine myself giving birth without completely breaking down, but I do want kids with you.”

“I want us to be parents. I want to adopt us to a baby, Shawn.”

He’s frozen, eyes wide open at her. His fingers wrapped around her index finger are tighter. Shawn blinks slowly, his mind processing at the only place that he can. “I know it’s sudden, but you can have as much time to think about it as you want. I just wanted you to know that it’s a possible—” He kisses her suddenly, swallowing the words in her mouth, his fingers shifting so that their fingers are interlaced as they kiss. He pulls away and nods at her softly, a dumbstruck expression still frozen on his face.

“I want us to be parents too.”

She smiles. “Yeah?” Shawn nods in answer, kissing her again, more softly this time.

When they pull away, Angela squeezes his fingers and turns over the stick in her hand.

Negative.

“Wait, you have to take the other side and tuck it under here … not here … there … his leg, you’re crushing his leg.”

“I really think the tape would be a great option right now.”

Angela stops suddenly, to stare at her husband thought narrow eyes. He looks absolutely awful and she imagines that the same goes for her. They haven’t slept since they brought the baby home two days ago. The little respite that she’s managed to get has been over two or three-hour stretches when Benji manages to fall asleep, which does not happen all too often. He sleeps as most babies do but he doesn’t seem to sleep for a long stretch of time as is to be expected.

“We can’t use duct tape to put his diaper on.”

“Well, it’s not as if we have another choice. These diapers have to be defective somehow.” That doesn’t seem possible to her. It seems like no matter how hard they try, the diapers only seem to know how to come loose. The only other option is that they’re simply both awful at this. That seems like the more likely choice.

“How are you unable to put on diapers on a baby?”

Shawn raises his brow at her, pointing his index finger at her. “Hey, from what I’ve gathered, you don’t seem to be much better at it than I am.”

“Well, why are you yelling at me?”

“Why are you yelling at me?”

Angela throws her arms up into the air. She exhales through her lips, her anxiety level still at what seems like an all-time high. “Do you see what this baby is doing? He’s turning us against each other and we can’t do that. That is exactly what he wants.”

“Angela, he’s barely a month old.”

“Exactly.”

The end up using duct tape to keep the diaper secure, at least for the time being. It’s not their proudest moment but it is the best solution that they could come up with and that is what parenting is all about isn’t it? Or at least that’s what she’s heard. Truth be told, she doesn’t know a thing about parenting seeing as she’s only been a parent for two weeks.

Angela had been foolish enough to believe that after the processing, the birth of the child and the actual adoption process, things might slow down slightly for them. They’d opt for a closed adoption, mostly because Angela doesn’t want to have to deal with it down the road. She doesn’t need anything that would make her son feel like he was less of hers.

Benji moves around in his slight manner on the bed, eyes staring at her as wide as they can. Tears fill his eyes and the wailing follows almost immediately, as it always does without fail. Angela exhales deeply. From across the room, Shawn places his hand on the knob of the door, attempting to slip away without being seen.

“Don’t you dare leave.”

He exhales slightly. “I want to get more diapers. There has to be a problem with these.”

Angela picks Benji off the bed, one hand tucked underneath his arm and the other at the back of his head. Still, she doesn’t bring him close to her body as his crying seems to only intensify the closer he is to her. “I don’t care. Don’t you dare leave me with him, you hear me? Because he hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you.” Shawn closes the gap between them so that he’s standing at the edge of the bed.

“He literally hates me.” Angela attempts to hand him off to Shawn, her arms are outstretched. Her husband folds his arms over his chest, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t know what to do. All that he does is cry if I even dare to come near him.” As if on cue, their son’s wails become louder and turns into a shriek that leaves a loud shrill echoing sound in both of their ears. It’s impossible to ignore.

“He doesn’t hate you. He’s a baby.” He steps away suddenly and he moves around so that he's standing behind her. Shawn places his hand gently in the crook of her arm, bending her elbow slightly. “You just have to keep trying. For one, it would probably be easier if you actually carried him and held him close to your body instead of holding him as if he’s a ticking bomb.”

Angela doesn’t bother to tell him that the reason she’s holding him that way is that he seems to be more upset when she holds him close to her.

Nevertheless, she does as he says and she rests his small head lightly on her shoulders, resting her hand at his neck. He wails even louder. Angela paces the ground at a steady pace with light movements so as not to upset him further. “It’s not working, babe. Please just come take him.” She shuts her eyes swiftly because she’s certain that if she doesn’t, she might burst into tears.

“Talk to him and rub his back.”

Angela has never seen Shawn have to try this hard with their son since they brought him home. It comes naturally to him and it’s almost a surprise to her. It feels like magic how he can get him to go silent just as quickly as he gets loud. It feels stupid but at the moment, she feels jealousy. She sounds foolish. How is she jealous of her own husband getting along with their son?

She rubs his back in small circular motions in an attempt to soothe him. Angela thinks she might be mistaken when she notes that the volume of his cries is slightly decreased. “Please don’t cry. Please stop crying. What do you want?” Angela exhales, releasing her own anxiety. Her muscles relax slightly. She repeats the motion. In. Hold for three. Out. Hold for three. “I’m your mommy, okay? And I just want you to sleep so that I can sleep because I’m tired.”

The baby is clearly too young to understand anything that she says but saying the words aloud feels like a strange kind of therapy.

“But I already love you and I’ve only known you for less than a month.” In.

Hold for three.

“I love you.”

Out for three.

His crying subsides slowly but surely, the high pitched sound leaving his lisp reducing slowly. Angela rubs his back, staring at Shawn behind him with wide surprised eyes. She doesn’t make any sudden motions, out of fear of shaking him from whatever state is allowing her to carry him. Slowly, he goes quiet, the only thing to be heard, the light side of his breathing. Angela lays down on the bed, resting Benji on her chest lightly. Shawn lays down beside her, his weight causing the bed to sink slightly on his side.

Benji’s breathing is a steady hum. It’s far too soon for him to be asleep but she gives him a few more minutes.

“You see,” Shawn whispers towards the ceiling. “He doesn’t hate you. There’s no way he could possibly hate you.”

At his side, he links his hand with her free hand, tracing small circles into her hand with his thumb. She speaks in hushed tones. “I don’t know. Maybe he could tell that I was hesitant or unsure. I don’t know, can babies tell that?” She feels his small heartbeat in a rhythmic thump against her chest and it causes warmth to move throughout her.

Angela has been scared, more scared than she cares to admit. She’s been terrified that after the miscarriage, she might never be able to feel that warmth towards their child. And she doesn’t want to give Benji anything less than all of her. All of her love. All of our time and effort. She only had a mother for half her life, and she’d taken off. The sense of not being enough has haunted her for so long. It is one of the many ways that she and Shawn are alike. They’re both broken people in their own respective but there is something to be said for broken people finding a way to make those broken pieces fit.

Benji falls asleep quickly, he exhales falling into patterned snoring. She places him into his crib.

Angela falls back onto the bed, besides her husband. “This is our baby, you know?”

He nods softly at her, linking their fingers as he turns into her slightly. He places his head on her chest, his arm wrapped around her waist. “I do know that. Yes, I know.” Her fingers move through his hair. “This is our baby.” Angela closes her eyes, the warmth of his skin against hers making it easier for her to drift to sleep. It feels like a relief.

This is their baby. This is their home. This is their family. Whatever it may be, it is theirs. She thinks they’ve done well.

#boy meets world #girl meets world #shawn hunter #angela moore #shawngela

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thirteen-beaxhes · 5 years

Text

Losing my Cool (Tyrus One Shot)

Summary: The five times TJ nearly lost his cool and the one time he did.

Words: 2648

@criminalambis this is for you i’m so sorry

AO3 LINK IN REBLOG

The first time TJ nearly lost his cool, it had been near the end of basketball practice, and for some reason he just wasn’t getting in the flow of things.

“Dude, Kippen, what’s up?” his teammate Darren asked him after TJ had missed yet another basket, and he threw the basketball down hard in frustration.

“Nothing,” TJ snarled, moving to his position as the other boy stood to throw the ball back in. TJ caught it, dribbling it up to the basket, only for Paul to almost effortlessly steal it from him, something that was a rarity. That did nothing at all to improve his mood, his vision red and blood heated up.

When Coach called time on the practice for the day, he pulled TJ aside, a concerned hope for a better run the next day muttered in a low voice. TJ knew the voice. He hated the voice, because he hadn’t been the subject of it in years.

“Looks like you lost your game, Kippen,” Paul said, a snarky grin on his face. “What is it? Time Jefferson finally got a worthy team captain?”

Oh he fucking didn’t.

Blood boiling, TJ started to walk up to Paul with the full intent of connecting his fist to his jaw regardless of the consequences, when the gym doors opened and he heard someone running up to him.

“Teej! I’m so sorry I’m late I didn’t think Spanish club would go on for so long,” Cyrus said as he ran up to TJ, panting slightly. As he reached, he opened his bag, pulling out a host of granola bars. “Now, I couldn’t find your favourite chocolate one, so I got white chocolate and blueberry, and even a honey one, so you can pick,” he finished, looking up at TJ with a smile.

As if a switch had been flipped, the crease on TJ’s forehead immediately smoothed, an amused smile spreading on his face as he looked at Cyrus. He chuckled, picking the white chocolate one. “Thank you, Underdog. Like I always say, you really don’t have to.”

“But I want to!” Cyrus said tilting his head slightly, that made TJ just want to pull him into the longest hug ever. “You ready to go?”

TJ nodded, but then turned around and looked at Paul. “Oh yeah, fuck you, Paul.”

“What happened?” Cyrus asked after he and TJ walked out of the gym, TJ’s gym bag over his shoulder.

TJ just shrugged, wrapping an arm around Cyrus’ shoulders to pull him closer. “Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“How was practice?”

TJ looked over at Cyrus and smiled, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Better when you walked in.”

The second time TJ nearly lost his cool, he had been extremely late for school.

His phone had died just when the alarm was going to ring, causing him to oversleep and have to half-ass getting ready in the morning, barely even able to comb his hair. He had gotten into a huge argument with Amber in the morning, the yelling match echoing through the house until their mother screamed at the two of them to get out of the house, and disgruntled, Amber left, not even giving TJ his usual ride. So he was left to run to school in the freezing cold, the action doing wonders for his mood. As he ran up to his locker, he wracked his brain, trying to remember if he was forgetting something when he realised to his horror. He had a History test first lesson.

That was okay, he’d just read through his notes-

Oh fuck, he had left those at home.

TJ groaned loudly, earning some stares from students around him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was hanging on my a tiny thread, this close to punching through his locker, or better, pull it off its hinges. TJ curled his hand into a fist, digging his fingernails into his palm as he opened his locker to take his books, when his eyes landed on the only two pictures in his locker. One was all of them at Andi’s legendary Epic Party 2.0, and the other was him and Cyrus in the park, at just the right moment during the sunset.

Looking at the picture, TJ squeezed his eyes shut, trying to bring himself down from his anger. What would Cyrus say if he was in front of him just then?

Well, he’d smile, and grab his hand, and tell him that it’s just a bad morning, the day was still open.

His smile would be enough to make him forget everything.

Leaning his head against the locker, TJ smiled slightly, pulling out the rest of his books.

The third time TJ nearly lost his cool, it had been, predictably, over a math problem.

TJ slammed his head on the desk, groaning slightly, earning a loud ‘Shh!’ from a kid sitting on the table diagonally across him in the library. He tore out another page of his notebook, crumpling it up and slamming it onto the table. He put his head into his hands, pressing it into his eyes slightly, hoping that would stop his head from splitting. Even after he had told Mr Coleman about his dyscalculia, he hadn’t been able to get very far. Well, further than a C-plus.

Now, TJ wasn’t disappointed with the C-plus, and telling Mr Coleman had gone well, but after that he still couldn’t go further, the numbers and problems still confusing him endlessly to the point of near frustration and anger. The point TJ was currently at.

He was dangerously close to just abandoning his homework, or worse, tearing it up, when he heard someone pull a chair up next to him. He turned around quickly, ready to snap, but immediately softening as he saw Cyrus’ face.

“What are you doing here, Cy?” TJ whispered, a small smile on his face.

“Well, I followed the whispers of an angry jock in the library and made an educated guess as to who it was,” Cyrus replied with a sneaky smile, and TJ playfully shoved him in the shoulder. “Okay, okay, call it ‘boyfriend’s instinct’ then,” Cyrus said as he sat down, shaking his head slightly.

TJ smiled softly, his heart picking up slightly at the word ‘boyfriend’. Still couldn’t believe it, after 3 months. “Well, blame the numbers for that then.”

“You good there?” Cyrus asked quietly, and TJ slowly shook his head, uncrumpling the homework and passing it to him.

“I can barely get through any of these, even after trying those techniques Coleman told me about. It’s killing me,” TJ sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Cyrus furrowed his eyebrows, leaning over the paper. He looked up at TJ with an encouraging smile, and grabbed the pen, tapping him on the hand.

“Don’t worry, I can help you a bit.”

The fourth time TJ nearly lost his cool, he had slammed the door of his room as he heard the beginnings of another one of his mom and dad’s fights.

He had been in the kitchen heating up a sandwich for himself when his father walked into the house and he and his mother exchanged some heated words, their voices starting out low and strained, but soon escalating. As soon as it reached that point, TJ shut his eyes, deciding to abandon the sandwich and just head to his room. His mom had tried to get him to stay down to try and prove a point, but TJ had just ended up yelling at her and stomping up the stairs, walking into his room. He had long since stopped trying to get Amber to open her door when stuff like that happened. Even as he walked into his room, he could still hear his mother yell after him, his father yelling soon after.

He hated this he hated this he hated this was all his mind was chanting at him, and for some reason that night, no amount of loud rock music seemed to drown away the yells. So he shrugged on the first hoodie he could find, pocketed his phone and climbed out of the window of his house, trudging in whatever direction his feet carried him.

Soon enough, he found himself at the swings. Seems like his feet knew to take him to the one place that had any way of calming him down. TJ sat down on the swing, drawing a shaky breath as he felt himself get choked up.

No stop it, he wasn’t gonna lose it he told himself, taking a deep breath. He pulled out his phone, shakily scrolling until he found the contact he needed and pressed ‘Call’.

“Hello?” said a sleepy Cyrus through the receiver, and TJ could swear he sighed in relief.

“Hey Cyrus,” TJ said, smiling to himself. “I’m so sorry, did I wake you up?”

“No no, it’s okay I was awake,” Cyrus lied, and TJ laughed slightly. “Is everything okay, Teej?”

“It will be,” he said quietly, nodding to himself. “I just wanted to hear your voice for right now.”

The fifth time TJ nearly lost his cool was right before their final game, his last game in Jefferson.

TJ wiped his sweaty palms on his jersey, trying to calm his nervous heart. But more than anything, he was trying to fight the anxious wave that was going to envelope him when he realised that this was it. His last run as captain of the basketball team, his last hurrah of middle school. That scared him more than it should have, and he had to remind himself to keep taking deep breaths.

“You good there Kippen?” Paul asked in his usual cocky tone. “Or are you gonna go out there and do an epic fail like that practice?”

Great like he needed that right now, TJ muttered in his head, glaring at Paul who was just smirking, knowing that he was just trying to get a rise out of TJ, being the next in line for captain and everything, being a year younger and everything. And that frustrated TJ to no end.

He clenched his jaw, looking away, reaching into his bag for water before he decided to do something stupid and give the team a reason to not have Paul playing that day. But as he reached in, he felt paper crinkling inside his bag. Narrowing his eyes, TJ pulled out whatever it was, finding a albeit crumpled up note.

Hey Teej, I know I can’t meet you before your game, but I know you’ll do great.

I believe in you.

Don’t do anything stupid.

Cyrus xx

TJ smiled as his eyes travelled across the piece of paper, involuntarily clutching it to himself as he laughed quietly, earning a knowing look from Darren and a scoff from Paul. But TJ wasn’t gonna let it get to him. Flipping Paul the finger, TJ slipped the note back into his bag and headed onto the game, looking back to see Cyrus holding a huge sign, Andi and Buffy cheering along beside him.

He was gonna try his best.

(And he did, shooting the winning shot, much to Paul’s misery. And when the game ended, Cyrus ran onto the court, tackling TJ in a hug, a soft “I knew you’d do it” whispered in his ear.)

The one time TJ lost his cool was not what you would expect.

The boy was over at Cyrus’ house and they were in his room, laying on the bed as TJ sketched and Cyrus lay on his lap reading a book. TJ was absent-mindedly running his fingers through Cyrus’ hair, occasionally allowing his hand to trail down to interlock with Cyrus’ free hand.

Overall, it was a lazy day where they wanted nothing more than to be with each other.

“Did you know that benches are the most fascinating piece of furniture?” TJ said, and Cyrus set down his book, sitting up to look TJ in the eye.

“TJ, tell me now if you have had one too many Red Bulls please so I can prepare accordingly,” Cyrus said in a deadpanned voice.

“No think about it!” TJ said, putting down his pencil. “Like, they have so many different styles, and is also the only piece of furniture that can also be a swing,” TJ stated surprisingly matter-of-factly, much to Cyrus’ amusement.

“I just think you’re biased,” Cyrus said, turning to face him. TJ looked away, his cheeks warm.

“Do you blame me?”

“Nope, I have a certain affinity for them too,” Cyrus said with a soft smile.

TJ laughed, before continuing to sketch what Cyrus could assume was only another sketch of his room, or of Cyrus himself.

Cyrus continued to look at him, smiling at the concentration in TJ’s features and the smile on his face as he worked, and he just ended up blurting out what he had been thinking for the past 6 months.

“I love you.”

As soon as he had said it, Cyrus froze, but immediately softened, knowing that yes, he said it, and he meant it.

TJ on the other hand, dropped his pencil, and slowly turned to Cyrus, eyes wide. “You, you what?”

“I love you TJ,” Cyrus said quietly, taking a deep breath as he looked at TJ.

It took a while for him to process those words, but when he did, TJ slowly began muttering to himself, “Oh my god oh my god oh my god OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!”

Clearly, the muttering soon turned to a loud exclamation.

“TJ? What’s happening?” Cyrus asked, looking at him concerned, but TJ couldn’t hear him, pacing around the room, taking a deep breaths.

“You said it, oh my god you said it!” TJ said, looking at Cyrus for the first time. “Oh my god, I’m freaking out. I’m losing it, oh my god.”

“TJ!” Cyrus said loudly, getting up and grabbing him by the arms. “You need to calm down.” He looked down, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have said that, I’m, I’m so sorry.”

“No no, Cyrus don’t be!” TJ said, grabbing Cyrus’ shoulders. “Please don’t be. It’s just, you deserve so much better than me, and I have no idea why and how I ever got lucky to be with someone as amazing as you and to have you love me, me, TJ Kippen. And I can’t even tell you how happy I am because I love you too and I just never thought this would happen.”

“Wait,” Cyrus said, his eyes wide. “What, what did you say?”

TJ looked at Cyrus with a small smile, taking a deep breath. “I love you too, Cyrus.”

Cyrus let out a small laugh, tears filling his eyes, as he jumped up, pulling TJ into a tight hug. TJ wrapped his arms around Cyrus’ waist, laughing along with him.

“I love you I love I love you,” TJ whispered in Cyrus’ ear, causing the boy to laugh happily, pulling away to kiss TJ on the cheek, on the forehead, on the nose.

TJ smiled brightly, leaning down to kiss Cyrus, tightening his grip on Cyrus’ waist, as Cyrus cupped TJ’s cheeks with his hands, both of them smiling into it.

As they pulled away, they rested their foreheads against each other, the smiles on their faces to big for anything to ever tear them down.

“I can’t believe this is real,” TJ whispered, and Cyrus laughed, pushing back TJ’s hair.

“It’s always been the truth to me,” he whispered back, and TJ bumped their noses together.

“Me freaking out must’ve been so lame to you.”

“No, not really, you just acted out what my brain was doing.”

TJ laughed, pulling Cyrus in for another hug. At least the one time he lost his cool was something worth remembering forever.

~~~~~~

this sucks yeet i’m sorry

#andi mack #tyrus #my fic #tyrus one shot #cyrus goodman #tj kippen #tyrus fanfic #tyrus fanfiction #tj x cyrus #thelonious jagger kippen #fanfiction #fanfic

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hes-writer · 5 years

Text

One Of My Own (2)

Summary: Harry falls out of love

Warnings: angst

Word Count: 4.5k

She brushed it off but thoughts and conclusions bounce through her head the entire dinner. She couldn’t help but compare herself to Daniela again like she did when she was younger. The make-up she’d applied felt heavier as she looked at Daniela’s natural looking face, emphasizing that she didn’t need to do much to look beautiful. She wore a pale blue dress as well, almost white with the lighting whereas Y/N decided to wear an eggplant colored dress that she now realizes doesn’t match Harry’s dress shirt combo.

It was an accidental coincidence, it’s not like they planned it, she thought.

“I don’t know it’s just odd,” Y/N stated to her friend, Lucy.

“What’s weird again?”

Harry and Daniela had been spending a ton of time together ever since she got back. At first, Y/N was glad that they found each other pleasant. Even though worries constantly filled her mind because of her sister’s actions, her trust in Harry couldn’t be swayed and she eventually overcame the insecurity that bubbled up inside her from the previous years.

“They’ve been spending a lot of time together,”

“Isn’t that good?” Lucy responded, raising an eyebrow at her.

It would’ve been good if they told her directly or a couple days before they actually hung out. Just this morning, she awoke to Harry fresh out of the shower with a towel wrapped lowly across his waist. His tan skin was drizzled with droplets of water and his hair was shaggy from the shampoo and conditioner. Her groggy voice projected as much as she could in the early hours of the morning to ask where he was headed off to. It was a Saturday and both of them happened to have a day off on that week. She planned to have a lazy day with him with their limbs entangled and a blanket draped over their bodies while they snuggled.

—

“Gonna go out with Dani to see this band at Chance,” He said as he opened the top drawer to pull out a pair of boxer briefs.

Y/N was instantly alarmed at the mention of her sister’s name. Chance was a café that Y/N found out about while scrolling through Instagram tags near her vicinity. It had a vintage vibe to it and played live music every day. The acts were switched and she had wanted to go ever since her discovery, but Harry’s schedule never matched up to hers.

“You’re going out with my sister?”

He paused, pulling a t-shirt over his head, “Yes. Is that a problem?”

She shook her head no, burrowing her face into the thick sheets of her duvet. The pillow beneath her felt like a brick and her head felt heavy.

“I guess. They don't invite me most of the time,”

“They don’t?”

“No, it’s like they’re the best of friends? I dunno, they even have their own little inside jokes,”

Lucy looked at her in alarm, “You don’t think he’s ..”

Y/N only bit her lip in remorse for thinking such vile things about Harry.

—-

Days passed and Harry had forgotten to pick Y/N up after her class again. It wasn’t a problem the first time it happened, but then it occurred again and it was currently the fifth time in eight days that Y/N was left leaning against the side of the building. It was raining mundanely, but it was enough to make someone sick if they stayed out long enough, and she was squishing herself as much as possible to fit under the small roof above her.

“Come on, H. Pick up,” Y/N lifted the phone to her ear, the weight of her tote bag dragging her forearm downwards but she persisted.

The line rings four times before the call ends and she was sent to voicemail. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows because she couldn’t believe that Harry had purposely rejected her call.

“What the heck?” she muttered.

The rain poured harder and she could see last of the people from her class getting picked up by their rides or boarding the public bus by the street corner. Y/N contemplated whether to run to catch up to the bus. From her peripherals, she sees Harry’s car speeding towards her.

It stopped right beside the sidewalk and Y/N speed-walked through the short distance between the roof and the car—refusing to get anymore wetter than she was. She grabbed the handle to the back seat so that she could drop off her bag before situating herself in the front with him. To her surprise she sees Daniela’s head of hair rested against the headrest. She climbed onto the back turning on the seat warmer first before strapping the safety belt across her body.

“Daniela?” She questioned.

“Hey Y/N, sorry we’re late,” Her sister apologized. “Harry here was just so clumsy that he—“

“Wha- Dani! You said you’d keep that between us,” Harry interrupted, arms lifting to lightly punch Daniela’s shoulder.

Y/N couldn’t help but let her eyes drift between the two of them.

——

It started off with the most minute things, everyday errands that Harry and Y/N used to do together like run to the grocery store to pick up eggs or a quick trip to the hardware because one of them were in need of batteries or a new set of light bulbs. These trips were their thing—it made them feel unique and separated from other people because it wasn’t usually what you would do with another person. But Harry and Y/N did them, it made the bond between them stronger to share something so domestic.

Until it wasn’t them anymore; it was Harry, Y/N, and Daniela because she needed milk one morning and he had invited her to come with them and somehow–it turned into a trio thing. When Y/N was scheduled for an early morning shift, she had to miss out on the grocery trip and she felt bad that she was missing out on it, especially since it was one of the bigger loads–as in, they needed to restock their pantry. But Harry barely batted an eyelash towards her, stating that Daniela could come and join him. Soon enough, those trips turned into Harry and Daniela hang out sessions because “Oh, Y/N. I don’t think you’ll want to come because she wants to go visit another store after” according to Harry.

It wouldn’t be a surprise either for Y/N to come home and find Daniela sitting at Y/N’s usual seat on the dinner table (beside Harry) while they chatted and ate their dinner. They didn’t even notice her presence for the first minute and a half because they were too busy laughing at yet another inside joke that stayed between their knowledge.

“Oh hi Y/N, there are some leftovers in the fridge for you,” Harry had greeted and continued in with the conversation. Her sister merely gave a wave before focusing her attention on Harry.

On other days, Y/N would come home to an empty apartment. The lights would be turned off and not a single sign prevailed that Harry had been around recently. There were no notes, no texts, no calls, and Y/N was actually getting worried about the lack of response. She stayed situated on the couch nibbling on her fingernails as a nervous habit while she sipped on chamomile tea in hopes to calm worries. When the doorknob jiggled, Y/N never ran as fast to the door as she did only to see Harry slap his palm on the door, pushing it widely as the hinges would and almost hits Y/N’s face. He stumbled over his own feet while his other arm was wrapped around Daniela who was equally as drunk. They both giggled at seemingly nothing but Y/N felt left out.

——

It was rare for Harry and Y/N to have time alone—like tonight— so she wanted to make the best out of it. She’d planned a whole evening of activities between them, some more enjoyable to Y/N than it was for him and vice versa. She felt that they’d lost effective communication to each other and she wanted to rekindle the spark that had extinguished.

The first one was to make dinner. It was a domestic activity that enabled them to see each other as a possible life-long partner and so far, Y/N was satisfied with this. The second was to eat it and speak about the events that have happened in recent weeks. Y/N was ashamed to say that she wasn’t as updated on Harry’s life as usual because she’d become a lot busier at work, especially at this time of the year. She wanted him to rant if needed to, complain if he felt like it, and share if he was comfortable enough to tell every little thing that he was feeling or had experienced prior because she’d missed his raspy voice lulling her ears. Y/N prided herself on being a great listener and Harry was someone who could talk for hours on end. It was a match.

Then, they’d move over to the couch where Harry would probably swift through the Netflix recommendations to find a new movie to watch, but they always knew that he couldn’t resist clicking back on his favorite movies. Y/N would cuddle into his chest, his knobby knees knocking against her own, while one of their arms would slowly become numb from being pressed against each other tightly. Both of them hated the pain and Harry had shyly admitted that she was—as cheesy as it sounds—’worth the pain’. When the days events catch up to their bodies, sometimes Y/N was the only one left to stare at the TV with tears in her eyes as the credits scroll upwards the screen while Harry leaned his head against his neck, resting at the back of the couch and his mouth wide open with a little drool dribbling down the corner of his mouth. He’d snore sometimes too.

Did it happen? No.

Why? As Harry had answered, “Sorry Y/N, I can’t come. Dani wanted to watch this new rom-com at the cinema tonight,”

And that was the moment she realized that her sister was doing it again. She was taking away what is rightfully Y/N’s and like every guy she’d ever been with, Harry was being persuaded by some sort of magic charm away from Y/N and towards he sister. It was funny how Daniela always succeeded and Y/N always let her. It’s not like she wanted to—if she had the guts, Y/N would totally scramble to grasp what she had. However, she was a strong believer in having only one chance. That chance proved whether it was worth it or not; if it meant something or it didn’t. She believed that once a person started drifting away from her, then it was either they would eventually disappear from her life, or they’d somehow realize what was happening and crawl their way back to her. So far, every experience Y/N had gone through always concluded with the person leaving her—maybe it was the same for Harry.

———

Y/N was too nice sometimes. Harry gave her an earful plentiful times when she became too generous and offered to take a shift for her friend who—as he declared— ‘doesn’t even like you’.

And this is an example of Y/N’s soft heart.

What if Daniela and Harry were the ones meant to be together and she was just the test to exemplify their true feelings? What if Harry and Daniela were meant to find each other through her? She had gone through the same thought process with Leo and the others, and now she was doing it with Harry. It was repetitive, of course. But what if this time was really it? Y/N couldn’t let her selfish needs get in the way of her sister's ticket to happiness. Sure, she’d probably be left broken and dusting but Y/N couldn’t stand seeing her brother, Carlos, weeping or Daniela sobbing over a lost love even if it was her lost love first.

That’s exactly what it was—a lost love. It wasn’t Y/N that felt her feelings deteriorating, no. The love she felt for Harry was stronger than before, sturdier than yesterday and she undoubtedly believed that he was the perfect one for her. Except, Y/N could also sense that Harry’s feelings for her were swirling down the drain and into an alternate dimension which meant that it was only growing for Daniela. It was for her sister.

Y/N had a hard time wrapping her head around it at first because that was just fucked up. What kind of boyfriend leaves their current girlfriend for their girlfriend's goddamn sister? It was humiliating and embarrassing since Y/N couldn’t imagine seeing a day without him—and she certainly wouldn’t have to envision it because she was sure that Harry would certainly come to their family dinners not as Y/N’s plus one, but her sisters’.

------

Harry had never met Y/N’s parents but he’s heard a plentiful amount about them. It was the same situation with Y/N’s parents, although, they had no idea that Y/N was dating somebody for good months now. It was a topic that just hadn’t come up in conversations, especially since the subject of relationships were a bit rough on the family, granted of the upcoming divorce that will ultimately split the household.

Harry and Y/N took a couple of days off from school and work to travel back to Y/N’s hometown to spend time with her family. Daniela had left the city a few days earlier because she had to speak to their parents to finalize their decision. Y/N was relieved at that news because it meant that Harry’s undivided attention would be focused solely on her during the ride back home. They hadn’t had a lot of time together recently and Y/N really didn’t want to blame anyone but she’s currently pointing her finger at her sister for charming her way into her boyfriend’s pretty head, and somehow relaying that his own girlfriend should become second priority.

However, all hopes of delving back to what they used to be were flushed down the drain. Y/N was a cuddler, Harry was too-- so it wasn’t a surprise when the two of them settled on their seats ready for the train ride to begin its journey, and for Y/N to lay her head on Harry’s shoulder or chest. What shocked her was that he didn’t return any of her actions, he had shifted uncomfortably on his behind and pretended to stretch his limbs as if he had been in the same position for a long while--- he just really didn’t want Y/N laying on him. She stared at him for a few seconds, brows furrowed and lips settled in a downwards curve.

The second move Y/N approached was more subtle. She fiddled with her own hands, eyeing Harry’s tattooed ones that rested softly on his jean-covered thigh. His lids were closed, eyelashes idly resting on his supple cheeks. His nose twitched ever so often like a bunny rabbit. Y/N feebly let her hand move to trace his, feeling the bones and muscles twitch underneath her touch. When she was sure that he was deeply asleep and wasn’t going to pull away, she turned his hand over so that his palm was against her own. She let a sigh softly escape her lips when her fingers tangled with his own, feeling a spark shoot through her body.

They must’ve stayed like that for at least forty-five minutes and she was awoken by an abrupt thump and suddenly, her hand was left isolated away from Harry. She forced her eyes to peel open to see what had just occurred and is met face to face with Harry’s which sported a disappointed mask. She tilted her head to the side in confusion; what could he be possibly angry about? He shook his head at her like a parent scolding their child and feels inferior to him. Y/N tried to lay her head on the meat of his shoulder again; he tensed, muscles contracting and she swore he stopped breathing for a nanosecond. He relaxed, however, and it made Y/N exhale gently. He adjusted his arm so that she was resting on his chest, his arm wrapping around her body in a grip that even she could tell was hesitant and took some reckoning for him to decide if that was what he wanted to do.

As much as she wanted to and should be comfortable right now, her mind was buzzing with thoughts even though her body rested pliantly on Harry. She couldn’t help but feel pain in her head as if someone was jostling her brain back and forth to shake out all of the ideas that could possibly explain why he was acting so odd. Detached was probably the most accurate word she could muster up. He was there physically but it was as if every emotional attachment that used to tie him to her was cut off from the source. He was a man that acted on a schema, a man that moved based on how he thinks he should be acting, not because he cared for whatever it was--- but because he had to. He had to at least try that he was still somewhat interested in Y/N when in fact, his passion for her has whisked away in pieces, declining with time and he could definitely feel guilt have its way at him.

Y/N could sense the end coming even though her heels were digging in the ground to try to stop it as much as she could, or maybe slow the process down a bit because she wanted a bit more time with Harry. Just a little bit more of being loved, being wanted, and having someone to call her own. In the back of her mind, a whisper mocked her every day, warning that she should leave before he does because then at least she’ll have a bit of control of the situation. But her subconscious won’t let her-- she loves Harry too much to let him go on a whim, but apparently not enough to fight for him. If he truly did love her like he-so-graciously spoke, he should eventually find his way back to her. Right?

But Y/N was in a state of denial, wanting to prolong every kiss they shared, every embrace that lifted her heavy heart, every moment he spoke while he was still hers; she wanted it to stretch so thinly until it breaks because then she will know that it wasn’t meant to be. Their love was one-sided and she was the one that sailed it through the hard and good times. At least for now, she could pretend that he was only confused and befuddled with a choice that he had to make.

And it definitely took a toll on Y/N when she let a bit of truth nip at her being, that her sister was taking pieces of Harry away and he was willingly breaking off parts of him to give to her. Needless to say, she was disgusted with the thought and she almost regurgitated when it first slipped her mind. It was repulsive and so so embarrassing for her. Did they even think of her when they decided to sneak around? Probably not.

The love was fading fast on Harry’s side and although a sensible part of him relates to Y/N’s pain, he couldn’t coerce himself to be one with her fully-- as in yes, he feels bad but he couldn’t blame himself. Is it right for him to say it’s hers? Maybe she just couldn’t satisfy him emotionally, maybe Daniella’s advanced two years of experience was what Harry was searching for. Maybe the sisters’ were just so alike from each other that he mistook feelings for Y/N as infatuation for Daniela. Maybe he’d be satisfied with either one of them because of their similarity in personas but he decided to go with Daniela because she had that extra oomph that Y/N had been lacking all of her life. The potential loss of Harry and Y/N’s relationship definitely affected her more than him. He was aware of that and he knew that she had realized it earlier.

----

Right now, as the pair exit the train station and Harry’s arm shoots up to holler for a taxi cab, Y/N couldn’t help but let her eyes linger on every part of him as if it was the last time she’ll ever get the chance to do so. The moment they step foot into the house was a daunting thought that maybe that was the precise moment where she truly losses him as her own. The time he will walk into their family, not as Y/N’s but entering the life that he and Daniella will share while Y/N watched from the dining table.

And maybe Harry, too, could sense the fear radiating off of Y/N’s body. They always had some way of being connected and whenever she was cold, he would shiver too. The hairs on his neck stand at full attention at the realization and he also couldn’t help but stare at his past love while she glanced out the cab window emotionlessly. Her face was reflected off the transparent glass of the window, the droplets of rain skidding down the surface but he could see a lone tear fall down the side of her cheek. Harry swallowed heavily, blinking a bit to clear his thoughts and takes her hands between his. The action surprised Y/N, he could tell by the way her left hand flattened her fingertips to her temples to swipe the tears away, a sniffle added into the mix before she turned to face him with her head down. He knew that it was an effort for him not to see her red-rimmed eyes. He could feel a twitch from her hand as if she wanted to pull away from the shock, but she stayed, unmoving.

His thumb rubbed circles on hers, a habit that she had introduced to him and something that he found so endearing that he eventually adopted the mannerism as his own. It was a calming gesture that she did to steady his heartbeat, and now he was using it against her to protect her from upcoming events that he himself is aware of.

---

The cab breaks to a halt and the moment they shared was over. Harry reached over to take his wallet out of his coat pocket and Y/N couldn’t help but grip it a little tighter. He faced her to be met with eyes pleading against his own as if to say ‘please, just a little longer’, but it was a request that he couldn’t fulfill. He pulled his hand back to his body, letting hers lay limply like she had been drained the life out of.

Their bags were held in their hands, standing at the little pathway to the front door. The cab’s engine volume decreased until it eventually couldn’t be heard by their ears. It was silent between them and who could forget the fact that it was pouring rain. Y/N couldn’t find it in herself to care if she caught a cold from the freezing water, watching Harry jog over to the porch to shield himself. All the while he thought that she was following his footsteps only to turn around and find Y/N walking slowly, dragging her feet, wanting to stretch the time they had alone until she was forced to give it up.

She reached him with a slouched body. Harry felt his heart cracking just a little bit at the sight. He couldn’t tell the difference between her tears and the rain but he knew that she was in pain. His hand grabbed her chin softly to tilt her eyes to meet his, lips drawing closer to each other to encapture it in a lasting kiss. His pillowy soft lips touch her own freezing ones and she could feel every emotion he felt pour into the single action. The regret, remorse, and empathy flowing from him to her body; he was sorry. He was sorry that it had to be this way, this was the end of them. It was ironic since he was meeting her parents for the first time, and usually, it would be to announce the beginning of their relationship, but Harry and Y/N always set themselves apart from the crowd.

Her frigid hands situate themselves just under his chin and he was jolted out of the kiss. Their eyes flutter open and Harry was searching her own for a sign of forgiveness but all he could see was a barren window that reflected his face back to him. The eyes truly were the windows to the soul because no matter how many times Harry blinked in hopes for Y/N’s eyes to change in emotion, it was always him that he saw. And maybe it was because Y/N thought of him as her soulmate; someone that would be with her till the end of time. To love, to hold, and to cherish.

Y/N thought that falling out of love was like losing a part of her that she knew so well. It was a piece of her that was once illuminated, a part of her that she identified with--Harry was the one that melded his own to hers and they were one. Love was valuable and lord knows what she went through to find one that she thought she could settle with.

His finger pressed the doorbell and not seconds later did the door open in welcome. Both of them shuffled inside, dripping from the rain. It was in slow motion. Her mother’s concern face embedding itself temporarily before she scurried upstairs to grab her a towel. Her father shaking Harry’s hand before brushing Y/N’s wet hair out of the way to ‘see the face that I missed so much’. He could see Carlos waving at her with a wide grin but it slowly faded once he saw that her sister wasn’t returning the action. And then, he could see Daniella enter the doorway with a wide smile and a twinkle in her eyes, barely paying attention to Y/N.

Her heart was aching and the knife studded on her chest twisted and turned while her stomach clenched in repulsion. It was obvious in the way they acted around each other as if they’ve been a couple in love; it was disheartening but at the same time, interesting. Y/N was left to long for him, hoping that someday he’ll return back to her. Hoping that he’ll beg on his knees with his hands clasped together as his voice pleads for her to please don’t give up on him because he loves her and he could physically feel his heart being ripped into shreds when she shakes her head. But right now, Y/N was the one low on the ground, crumbling from the pressure and pain being weighed on her. She was the one begging Harry to not leave her.

But maybe she said it too quietly--too helplessly-- because he couldn’t hear her and he continued walking away from his love to go to one of her own.

----

that’s wack

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