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hockey-fics · 9 months

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A Love Worth Changing For ~ Nico Hischier

Summary: Your commitment to yourself to stay out of a relationship becomes harder to keep when you meet someone who just might be worth breaking your promises for.

Word count: ~8,900

Warnings: Drinking (quite a bit), implied/vaguely mentioned smut, throwing up, toxic behaviours.

A/N: I kind of hate how this turned out, to be honest. It's not super well edited because I didn't want to read through it yet another time.

You didn’t want to be in a relationship. It was a promise you made to yourself. You wouldn’t get into a relationship until you were done with school. You had high expectations for yourself in your years at university. You wanted to do well, that was a given. Staying out of a relationship would only leave you with more time to study. But you also wanted these years to explore who you were as a person, casually date, figure out what you wanted in a partner and what kind of partner you wanted to be.

It wasn’t hard, at least not for the first few years. Until you decided to go to grad school and decided to keep your commitment to not having any romantic commitment. And then came your second hurdle, when you met Nico.

October 2021

Standing at the kitchen counter you fill a bowl with a bag of chips that you know will go mostly untouched in favour of drinks, but it was the thought that mattered, right? Your phone vibrates on the counter and your eyes fall to your bright screen. A text from Jack. Unlocking your phone you read the message, asking if he could bring a couple friends. Sighing to yourself you reply that it was fine, though you were a little nervous about who Jack was going to be bringing to a party you were already worried might be getting too large.

Before long your apartment is full of people, half of which you didn’t know, tagging along with the half that you did. You’re in the kitchen mixing yourself an unnecessarily strong drink of tequila and orange juice when you feel someone tap you on the shoulder. Turning around your eyes focus on Jack.

“Hey,” you greet, pulling him into a quick, friendly hug. Jack. You met him when you both arrived in New Jersey, him to play for the Devils and you to start your undergrad degree. It was an instant connection, but not the kind your friends had speculated. You understood that he was attractive, you knew that almost everyone seemed to fall for him. But your connection with him felt more like a brother than anything more. “How was your game?”

“It was good…It would be really cool if you would like watch a game once in awhile,” Jack jokes.

“I was busy,” you whine, taking a large sip of your drink.

“Busy with what?”

“Preparing this place to sustain the damage of another party,” you inform him. “And pre-gaming.”

“I see how it is, rather get drunk than come see me play.”

Rolling your eyes you lean back against the counter. “Honestly, yeah,” you joke. Your eyes travel over Jack’s shoulder, to the man standing behind him, hands shoved in his pockets, glancing around uncertainly. “Hi,” you call to him, catching his attention. “I’m Y/N.”

“Hey, uh, I’m Nico,” he tells you, shuffling his way between Jack and some other guy you had yet to meet. “Is this your place?”

“Yeah,” you tell him, hearing a shattering of glass from the other side of the kitchen. “Unfortunately,” you add with a breath of laughter. “I should go deal with that, I’ll talk to you later, Nico,” you tell him, placing your hand on his arm as you slip by him in the direction of the shattering sound.

After helping clean up the mess of broken glass and spilled beer you head back into the kitchen, needing another drink. You find Jack and Nico nearly exactly where you had left them, discussing something with an intensity that piques your interest.

“Am I missing something?” you ask Jack, pouring yourself another drink.

“He thinks you’re hot,” Jack states boldly.

You’re caught off guard by how easily he offers the information, especially when you see Nico elbow him in the side, clearly not wanting him to have said that. “Oh?” you say, turning to face Nico, a playful smile on your lips.

“I, uh,” Nico begins, eyes falling to the ground. “Yeah,” he finally mutters.

Giggling you take a sip of your drink, stepping a little closer to him. “Well, I think you’re pretty hot as well,” you tell him, hoping it would ease some of the awkward tension that had fallen on the conversation.

“This is gross,” Jack mutters, gulping back half of his beer in one go.

“You’re the one who brought it up, dumbass,” you remind him, spinning to lean against the counter beside Nico. “Tell me more about yourself,” you say to Nico.

“What do you want to know?”

Shrugging you glance down to his empty hands. “Do you not drink?”

“I offered to drive him home,” Nico tells you, nodding towards Jack.

“Drive Jack home?” you mutter, eyebrows furrowed. “Jack never goes home after he gets drunk here.”

“Oh, I, uh, didn’t know you two were-,” Nico stammers, shaking his head as he glances over to Jack with an incredulous look.

“That’s not what I meant,” you exclaim with wide eyes. “He sleeps on the couch.”

“Oh,” Nico chuckles.

“So, does that mean you’re going to have a drink?”

Nico shrugs, looking over at Jack, who was already on his third beer. “I still need to drive myself home.”

“I’m sure we can find you somewhere to sleep,” you tell him.

And find him somewhere to sleep was exactly what you did, in your bed right next to you.

When you wake up the next morning your arm is slung over Nico’s chest, your head on his shoulder. Slowly you pull your body away from him, tugging the sheets up over your naked body as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. 9:35 AM.

“Morning,” Nico mumbles tiredly.

“Morning,” you reply, glancing down at him with a soft smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Alright,” Nico shrugs. “Tired.”

“Me too,” you laugh. “Do you want some coffee or something?”

“If you’re going to make some for yourself I’ll have some.”

Climbing out of bed you pull some clothes on, shuffling out of your room to take in the damage from the night before. The kitchen counters are littered with cans and bottles, sticky with spilled drinks. Sighing to yourself you grab a bag, beginning the long process of post-party clean up. Nico is at your side a second later, tossing cans into the bag you were holding.

“You don’t need to clean up, it’s okay,” you assure him, not wanting him to feel obligated to help clean your apartment after a party you decided to throw.

“I don’t mind,” Nico shrugs. “I’m sure some of it is my mess.”

His justification makes you giggle, knowing that he had been one of the only people the night before to ask you where you wanted him to put his empty cans. You finish clearing off the counter together, wiping it down before making a pot of coffee. While it was brewing you stand at the counter, Nico in front of you, his hands on your hips as he looks down at you.

“So do you think I can get your number?” Nico asks.

Running your hands up his arms you rest them on his shoulders, smiling playfully up at him. “Yeah, I think maybe I could give you my number.”

Leaning down Nico presses his lips to yours again, gently and slowly, tugging your hips closer to his body.

“Get a room.”

Pulling back from Nico you look across the kitchen to where Jack was now standing. “You know this is my apartment, right?” you joke, pulling your arms back from Nico. “Do you want some coffee?”

“Sure,” Jack mumbles, leaning tiredly into the counter. “Do you have that girl’s number?”

“Who?” you ask, pressing your palms into the counter, hopping up onto it.

“You know, the one I was talking to.”

“Do you even remember her name?”

“Yeah,” Jack mutters dismissively.

“What is it then?”

“Do you have her number or not?” Jack exclaims, rubbing his fingers over his temples.

“Yes,” you tell him with a sigh. “I’m not giving you her number if you can’t even remember her name.”

Jack lets out a loud groan, shaking his head. “Fine, whatever,” he grumbles.

Nico glances up at you with a look that told you he agreed with your decision. “You remember my name, right?” you joke.

Nico chuckles, leaning up to press his lips to your again. “Of course,” he tells you.

After the coffee is done brewing you pour a few mugs, adding some cream to your coffee. Heading into the living room you curl up on the couch, leaning into Nico when he sits down beside you. The three of you sit in the living room, talking about the night before while finishing your coffee.

Shortly after finishing his coffee Jack decides to get an Uber home, leaving you and Nico alone again. You spend the majority of the day cuddled up with Nico on the couch, watching movie after movie as the hangover slowly begins to leave your body.

“When are you free for me to take you on a date?” Nico asks after the end of yet another movie.

Sitting up you pull your body away from Nico, turning to look over at him. “Nico, I do like you but I feel like I should tell you that I’m not really looking for anything serious right now.”

“Does that mean I don’t get to see you again?”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” you giggle, shaking your head. “I just wanted you to know that.”

“Okay,” Nico says with a shrug. “How about Wednesday night?”

“Wednesday night sounds good to me,” you reply, leaning over and kissing him gently.

Wednesday night comes around quickly and your date goes incredibly well. As does the next date, and all the ones after that. It wasn’t long till you were spending almost all your spare time together.

There was a connection you had with Nico that was undeniable. But you were holding onto your promise to yourself that you weren’t going to get into a relationship.

December 2021

You’re finally packing clothes for your trip home, having just finished your exams a few days earlier. Going home for the holidays was always one of the highlights of your year, when you could finally relax without worrying about assignments or classes or exams. Folding a few sweaters you set them into the suitcase on your bed, a sudden knock on your door startling you.

Heading through your apartment you hesitantly pull the door open, relaxing when you see Nico standing in front of you. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you before you left,” Nico explains, stepping inside. “And I wanted to bring you this.”

Your eyes fall to the wrapped box in his hand. “A Christmas present?”

“Yeah,” Nico chuckles, setting it into your hands.

“Why?” you whisper, looking up into his eyes. “You didn’t have to get me anything, we’re not-.”

“We’re not together, I know,” Nico interrupts, having heard the line from you over and over again at various times throughout the last few months. Not together, just friends with benefits...who also happened to be going on frequent dates.

Sighing you set the present down onto the table by the door, reaching over to take his hands. “Well, thank you,” you whisper, leaning up and pressing your lips to his. “But you really didn’t have to.”

“You’re welcome,” Nico says, pulling you into a hug. “When do you have to be at the airport?”

“Tomorrow morning at eight.”

“I can drive you…if you want,” Nico offers.

Pulling back you smile up at him, fingers running down his arms. “That would be great, thank you. Do you have plans tonight?”

“No.”

“Do you want to stay here tonight?”

A smirk forms on Nico’s lips, his hands finding their way to your hips. “Yes.”

Giggling you lean up, kissing him again. This time you don’t pull back immediately, your arms finding their way over his shoulders. His tongue brushes against yours and you push yourself closer to him, fingers curling into the fabric of his sweater.

“Let’s go to my room,” you mumble against his lips before taking his hand and pulling him through your apartment to your bedroom.

“Do you need to finish packing?” Nico asks, his eyes falling to the suitcase on your bed, piles of clothes laying around your room.

“It can wait,” you assure him, setting your suitcase onto the ground. You’re on the bed a second later, letting Nico pull your clothes off. Hands grasping at each other, both knowing that you’d have to go a few weeks without getting to see each other, without getting to touch each other.

Nico makes you finish more times than you ever had in one night, till you’re a shaky, flushed mess. Maybe it was because you would be apart from each other for awhile, maybe he was trying to leave a lasting impression, keep you from wanting to be with anyone else. Whatever the reason, you were more than okay with it.

“I should probably finish packing,” you whisper, head laying on Nico’s shoulder, fingers grazing over his chest.

“Do you need help or anything?” Nico offers.

“No, there’s not that much left to do,” you tell him as you pull some clothes back on.

Nico spends the rest of the evening keeping you company while you finish packing and doing last minute preparation around your apartment. By the time you get to bed that night you know that neither of you was going to end up with an adequate amount of sleep that night. But you didn’t mind if it meant spending more time with Nico.

June 2022

You were prepared to spend the summer away from Nico. You didn’t want to, that much you needed to admit. But you weren’t his girlfriend, he wasn’t your boyfriend. There was no reason for any variation to Nico’s normal summer plans.

So you had said goodbye to him the night before he flew back to Switzerland to spend time with his friends and family. You managed to hold back your emotions till he left and you couldn’t hold the tears back any longer.

You kept yourself busy, picking up extra shifts when you could to keep your mind off of missing him. You knew it wasn’t normal, to have these feelings for someone who you were refusing to be more than just friends with benefits with.

Of course the two of you continued talking, text messages being exchanged when the time difference would allow for it. But it wasn’t until he called you one evening that you were really reminded that whatever was going on between you two was a lot more than what you were willing to say out loud.

“Hey,” you greet as you answer the phone, sitting in your living room, watching re-runs of your favourite TV show.

“Hi,” Nico replies, his voice was quiet but you could hear a slight slur in his words. “What are you doing?”

“Uh, not a lot, watching TV,” you tell him, sitting up straighter on the couch, eyes narrowing as you stare at the other end of the couch. “What are-,” you can’t even finish asking what he was doing before he cuts you off.

“With who?” Nico asks and there’s something in his tone that makes you feel like it’s more of an accusation than a genuine question.

“Nobody…why?”

“You’re watching TV by yourself on a Friday night?”

“Well it’s 6PM here,” you remind him. “But yes, I’m watching TV alone, why?”

“Right,” Nico mutters. “I miss you.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” Nico replies quickly. “Yes,” he admits just as quickly, without you even needing to question him on it. “We went out for drinks, I had too many.”

“Well did you at least have fun?” you ask, holding back a laugh.

“Yeah…I wish you were here though.”

Your silent for a little too long, wracking your brain for what to say. ‘Me too’ didn’t feel right, even if it was the truth. “You’ll be back in a couple months,” you finally whisper.

“I don’t want to wait that long,” Nico mumbles. “I want you to come here.”

Laughing softly you roll your eyes to yourself, leaning back into the couch.

“I’m not joking,” Nico states, clearly taking offence to your laughter.

“I can’t,” you tell him, nervously fiddling with a loose thread on your shorts.

“Why not? I’ll buy you a flight, you can stay with me or I can get you a hotel or whatever, it doesn't matter.”

“That’s not the problem, Nico,” you tell him, though if you were seriously considering his suggestion it probably would have been a problem.

“Then what is?”

“We-,” you begin, pausing to take a deep breath. “We’re not together…I’m not your girlfriend, Nico. I’m not going to fly halfway across the world and meet your friends and family when we’re not even together,” you explain.

The silence that follows is so long that you begin to wonder if he was even still there. But you sit in the silence, with each second growing more and more uncomfortable.

“I love you.”

“Nico,” you whisper, eyes welling with tears. You weren’t even sure where your emotions were coming from, but they were beyond overwhelming. “You don’t…you don’t mean that. You’re drunk-.”

“I do,” Nico insists, knowing where you were about to go with your sentence. Maybe he wasn’t as drunk as you thought, but you didn’t want to truly admit that.

“Can we talk tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Nico mumbles.

“Get some sleep, okay?”

“Okay,” Nico whispers. “Have a good night.”

The two of you did talk the next day. But at no point did either of you bring up the night before. Maybe he didn’t remember it. Maybe he no longer wanted to discuss it now that his mind was no longer clouded by alcohol. Either way you were pretty sure it was the best outcome for both you and him.

October 2022

“I like this one,” you say, pointing out a small pumpkin sitting on the edge of a pallet in the pumpkin patch.

“It’s so small,” Nico comments, chuckling as he stands next to you, staring down at the little pumpkin.

Shrugging you lean down, picking it up. “It’s cute.”

“Like you,” Nico says with a smirk, already anticipating your response.

Rolling your eyes you jokingly take a step away from him. “Gross.”

Reaching over Nico takes your hand, tugging you back towards him. “I know you like it.”

Shaking your head you let go of his hand, running it up his arm to wrap around his shoulders. Pushing yourself onto your tip toes you press your lips to his. “I do,” you admit, stepping back from him. “Now pick your pumpkin so we can go home and carve them.”

After Nico picks out and pays for the pumpkins you head back to your apartment, stopping on your way there to pick up dinner and a couple bottles of wine.

“Do you want the shiraz or the zinfandel?” you call to Nico, pulling a couple glasses of wine out from the cupboard.

Glancing over your shoulder you watch Nico set the pumpkins down on the table, a smile on his face. “You know that I don’t know the difference.”

Giggling you open the drawer in the kitchen, rifling through it for your wine opener. “I want to try the zinfandel,” you tell him, jumping as you feel his hands on your hips, tugging your back into his chest.

“Sounds great to me,” Nico whispers, leaning down and kissing your neck gently.

With a quiet, pleasure filled sigh you let yourself melt into him, the warmth of his body radiating into you. “Thanks for doing this with me.”

“Doing what?” Nico asks, letting you turn around in his arms to face him.

“This whole pumpkin thing, I know it’s kind of stupid as adults,” you explain.

Nico shakes his head, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his arms. “It’s not stupid and you don’t need to thank me, I wanted to do this,” Nico assures you.

“I l-,” you begin, stopping yourself short as you realize what you were about to say. I love you. Swallowing heavily you pull yourself back from him, quickly turning around, fumbling with the wine opener.

“What were you going to say?”

Shaking your head you twist the screw into the cork, fingers shaking nervously. “Nothing, it doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Nico insists, reaching over and placing his hand on your lower back, trying to get your attention again. “Just talk to me.”

“I said it doesn’t matter,” you snap, struggling to wiggle the cork out of the bottle. As the cork pops out of the top of the bottle the sudden change in force sends the bottle slipping across the counter, red wine sloshing out all over the counter as the bottle clatters onto the counter. “Fuck,” you mutter, eyes welling with tears as you reach for the bottle, quickly standing it back up.

As you reach for the towel hanging on the handle of the oven Nico catches your hands, pulling you to face him. “Slow down,” he says gently. “What’s going on?”

The tears that had welled up in your eyes were slipping down your cheeks now, your hands stilled by Nico’s hands stopping you from wiping them away. “I love you,” you exclaim. “Is that what you want to hear?”

Nico is quiet for a few seconds before wrapping his arms around you, rubbing your back gently. “I only want to hear it if you mean it.”

You don’t answer him. You knew you should answer him. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to say it again, you could barely say it once. “I need to clean up the wine,” you whisper, wiggling out of Nico’s arms.

“You should use the paper towel, you’ll stain that one,” Nico tells you, gesturing to the towel you had originally reached for.

“Right,” you whisper, nodding slowly as you stare up at him. You didn’t know what you had expected out of him after that, but it sure wasn’t cleaning tips. After cleaning up the wine from the counter you excuse yourself to the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror. Wiping away the remnant of your tears you take a few deep breaths, eventually managing to calm yourself enough to venture back to the kitchen.

When you step into the room your eyes find Nico at the table, two glasses of wine and the pumpkins in front of him. “What-?”

“You don’t want to carve them anymore?” Nico asks.

“I-,” you begin, walking through the room to sit down at the table with him. “Yeah, I do.”

For awhile the two of you sit in relative silence, the energy in the room feeling tense. But by the time your glass of wine was empty the tension had dissipated.

You knew you loved him. You knew you meant it when you said it. You knew it before but something in that evening only made you love him even more. He didn’t push you. He didn’t make you feel bad. He was there for you, with you, in whatever way you wanted in that moment.

November 2022

“Jack, I don’t feel good,” you whisper, glancing around the packed night club.

Jack turns his attention away from the group of your friends that he was in the midst of a conversation with. His eyes land on you, nodding slowly as he reaches out, placing his hand on your side to steady your swaying body. “Come on,” he mumbles, guiding you through the building and into one of the single stall bathrooms.

You’re only in the bathroom for a second before you’re hovering over the toilet, the plethora of drinks you had consumed that night coming right back up.

“I’m going to get you some water,” Jack tells you, turning to open the door. “Stay here, okay?”

Nodding you flush the toilet, standing up and placing your hands on the edge of the counter, a steady surface to steady your not so steady self against. You turn the lock on the door, leaning into the counter again, taking deep breath to try to keep

Jack returns a few moments later with a glass of water which you gratefully take. After downing half the glass you feel your eyes fill with tears, drunk mind racing with emotions. “Does he hate me?” you mutter, looking over at Jack.

“What?” Jack asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“Nico,” you whisper. “Does he hate me? He asked me to take things further again yesterday and I said no.”

“I don’t know, I haven’t talked to him in a few days,” Jack tells you. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Refusing to be his girlfriend and now you’re crying about him.”

Your eyes fall to the ground, trying to find some sort of valid explanation for him. “I don’t want to be in a relationship right now,” you finally whisper.

“Why? You’re obviously into him,” Jack retorts quickly.

“Because, I’m supposed to figure out who I am in university, Jack. I’m supposed to have crazy, fun experiences with new people and I’m not supposed to find the person I’m going to be with for the rest of my life right now and-.”

“He’s not asking you to marry him,” Jack interrupts. “Why are you worried about spending the rest of your life with him right now?”

“Because I don’t want to get my heart broken, I don’t want to get hurt,” you mutter.

“You’re crying about him in a bathroom,” Jack exclaims, shaking his head. “You’re already hurt.”

“No,” you whisper, sniffling softly, tears rolling down your cheeks again. You didn’t want to admit Jack was right, you didn’t want to admit that everything you had done in the last year to keep Nico at a distance had been for nothing. “I want to go home.”

“You can come back to my place,” Jack offers with a sigh, clearly not wanting his night to be over but also not about to leave you alone.

“I’ll just get an Uber,” you tell him, pulling your phone from your pocket.

“I’m not letting you Uber home alone right now.”

You knew it was coming from a place of concern, but you really didn’t want to be the one to wreck his plans for the night. Whatever those plans were. “Fine,” you mutter. “But I don’t want to force you to go home.”

“Well all your friends are here and they’re also drunk so what do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know,” you whine, tipping your head back to look at the ceiling. The tiles are spinning in your mind and your head feels heavy, but you manage to lift it again before the spinning brings on another round of nausea. Your eyes land on Jack, watching him typing something quickly into his phone. You manage to restrain your drunken nosiness from asking who he was talking to, staying silent.

“Nico is going to pick you up,” Jack tells you a few minutes later, making your heart race.

“No,” you exclaim, shaking your head. You couldn’t let him see you like this.

“He’s already on his way,” Jack tells you definitively. “Come on, I’ll walk outside with you and wait for him.”

“Jack,” you whine, following him out of the bathroom anyway. “This is mean.”

“I offered to take you home,” Jack snaps, clearly annoyed with you for making any attempts to help much harder than necessary.

Sighing you follow him outside, the cold night air feeling refreshing to your nightclub-induced clammy skin. “I’m scared, Jack,” you whisper, standing next to him on the sidewalk.

“Why?”

“He hates me-.”

“He’s picking you up drunk at two in the morning, he doesn’t hate you.”

“Yes, he does,” you repeat. “He hates me but he’s nice a good guy and he’s just coming to pick me up because he’s not a shitty person and I-.”

“Shut up,” Jack groans. “Yeah, he’s a nice guy or whatever but he’s not nice enough to get out of bed and come here to take care of you if he doesn’t still like you.”

Just as Jack finished his sentence a familiar car pulls up along the side of the road. Quickly Jack yanks the passenger’s side door open. “Good luck,” he tells Nico as he guides you into the car.

“You okay?” Nico asks as you pull your seatbelt on, refusing to look across the car at him.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you mutter, eyes focusing out the side window, small raindrops beginning to splatter onto the clear glass. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Of course I did,” Nico states and you can tell he’s glancing at you when he says it. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to either though,” he clarifies.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, finally glancing over at him. "I'm sorry for making this so hard, I'm sorry I can't be who you want me to be right now, I like you so much Nico but I just can't be with you right now."

"It's okay," Nico tells you, his own voice greatly contrasting your unsteady, high-pitched tone. "I'm not going to push anything, if you want me around I'll be here. I'll wait for you."

January 2023

New Year's Eve. It was the one holiday that you seemed to never have a single tradition for. You had spent your New Year's Eve in a new location every year, from your bedroom to house parties to bars. This year though it was going to spent at a nightclub. A nightclub with as many friends as you could possibly wrangle into spending their night’s in a sweaty, loud, sticky nightclub downtown…including Nico.

You had gotten to Jack’s place just after eight, having spent the better part of three hours getting ready with your best friends at your apartment. You had to admit though, the time paid off, your outfit giving you an almost dangerous amount of confidence.

“Where’s Nico?” you ask Jack, watching him pour another round of shots.

You watch Jack’s lips curl into a teasing smirk, glancing at you for a second before returning to his bartending role. “Very interested in him for not being with him.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, taking a sip of your vodka soda. “I’m just curious, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Here,” Jack states, handing you a shot glass, filled to the brim with tequila. As you reach to take the shot glass he pulls it away, holding it out of your reach. “You have to promise that you’re not going to end up puking and crying about him tonight.”

“Fuck off,” you mutter, reaching over and taking the shot glass from his hand, quickly dumping it into your mouth. You force the liquid down your throat with a wince, shuddering as you set the empty glass down onto the counter.

“If I hear you say you’re not feeling good I will be finding someone else to take care of you.”

“I’ve never been that drunk in my life before, Jack. Stop acting like it happens frequently,” you whine.

Jack chuckles, opening another beer. “You’re still that embarrassed about it, hey?”

“It was embarrassing,” you exclaim, glancing around the apartment, your interest piquing as your eyes sweep by the front door. Looking back you see Nico, struggling to yank his jacket off while holding a case of beer in one hand. “I’ll be right back,” you mutter to Jack, hurrying over to the door. “Need some help?” you ask Nico, taking the beer from his hand to let him take his jacket off.

“Thanks,” he says with a chuckle, balancing his coat on a stack over a hook on the wall. He turns his attention back you, his eyes gazing up and down your body. “You look hot,” he comments.

You can’t help but giggle at his comment, your cheeks reddening. “Well it took me long enough to get ready so I’m glad I got something out of it.” Turning around you head towards the kitchen with Nico’s beer.

Nico has his hands on your hips, stopping you in your tracks a moment later. “You can get anything you want looking like that,” Nico whispers.

Your breath catches in your throat, your back hitting Nico’s chest as you come to a stop. “It’s nine, Nico. We’ve got at least three more hours to go.”

“And?” Nico mumbles.

Giggling you lean back into him, tipping your head back to look up at him. “And if you keep this up I won’t be able to make it till midnight without trying to get you back to my place.”

Nico chuckles, his hand slipping around to your ass as he moves to walk towards the kitchen. Your cheeks warm even further at the contact, watching him take the beer from you, unloading a few of them into Jack’s fridge.

By the time you get to the club that night you’re a little more than tipsy, knowing you wouldn’t need to spend much money at the bar that night. The night had started with a lot of flirting between you and Nico, but once you arrived at the club you found yourself swept away with a few of your other friends.

Before you knew it you were standing in a group with just a couple of your friends and quite a few men you had never met before. There’s a man standing next to you who had his hands on you more than was accidental. A hand on your back as he squeezed by to order another drink, fingers brushing against yours, body pressing to yours while he leaned in to try to hear something someone said. You didn’t dislike it, you knew he was flirting with you and part of you was enthralled by that, by the attention. But every time it happened your mind would find its way back to Nico.

“Let’s get you another drink,” Peter, who you had just discovered the name of, says.

Your eyes glance down at your empty drink before letting him guide you to the bar with his hand on your waist. You order your drink and Peter pulls out his wallet. The two of you make small talk while you sip on your new drink. He was attractive, you had to admit that. But that’s about where it stopped. There was nothing about his personality that enticed you, but selfishly you did like the attention.

But you’re not able to see where things would go with him because the next thing you know Nico is pushing his way through the crowd to be at your side.

“What are you doing?” Nico asks you, not even acknowledging the man you were talking to.

Shrugging your shoulders your eyes flick back and forth from Nico to Peter and back to Nico. “What do you mean?”

Nico shakes his head with a cold chuckle, reaching down and taking your hand. “Come on, you’re done here.”

“Nico,” you whisper, eyes drilling into his. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t,” Nico mutters, shaking his head. “You know what I’m talking about, let’s go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you state definitively, staring into his eyes as you match his intensity.

“What’s going on?” Peter interjects, catching both you and Nico’s attention.

“I think you should go,” Nico tells him before you have a chance to get a single word in.

“Why?” Peter asks with a cold chuckle. “She clearly isn’t interested in you, why would I go anywhere?”

You don’t even process what’s happening till Peter is stumbling backwards, hand on his jaw where Nico’s fist had just met with it. Thankfully a bouncer pulls Peter back before he can retaliate, Nico frozen in place, just as stunned by his actions as everyone else in that club.

You weren’t happy with Nico’s actions but you turn towards him anyway, grasping his arms a second later. “What the hell?” you exclaim, frantic eyes searching his for any type of answer.

Before Nico has a chance to say anything a bouncer is at his side, nodding towards the door. “You gotta go.”

“I-,” Nico begins before turning in the direction of the door, knowing he wasn’t going to argue his way out of this one.

You watch the bouncer guiding Nico towards the door, realizing you weren’t also being kicked out. You didn’t need to go. You could stay, you could keep drinking, celebrate New Years in this club. But the further and further Nico got with the bouncer the more uneasy you felt. So you let your legs carry you through the club and out the front door, into the freezing night air with Nico.

“Nico,” you call as you watch him walking away from the club, clearly with no real destination in mind.

“What?” Nico snaps, turning back around to look at you. “What do you want?”

“You’re really mad at me right now?” you yell, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to keep yourself warm.

“Yes,” Nico exclaims. “Are you serious right now?”

“I’m not your girlfriend, Nico.”

Nico shakes his head, laughing coldly. “I guess not,” Nico yells. “But whatever, it doesn’t matter anymore, I’m fucking done with this, I’m done with you.”

“Nico,” you mumble, walking closer to him, hoping something, anything you would say could convince him that it wasn’t that serious. “Please don’t say that.”

“No, I’m over this, I’m not going to keep fighting for you if you don’t give a fuck about me.”

“I do care about you,” you yell back at him, your voice hoarse and shaky. “I care about you so much, Nico, you don’t even know.”

“If you cared about me you wouldn’t be trying to fuck other guys right in front of me.”

“I-,” you begin, realizing you didn’t even know what your justification was about to be. Because, to be honest, you didn’t have one. “I’m sorry,” you finally croak.

“Just go back inside, I don’t fucking care,” Nico mutters, slurred words finally giving away his drunken state.

“I do,” you yell, walking closer to him. “I don’t want to go back inside, Nico. I don’t want to leave you…I do care.”

“Why?” Nico snaps, staring down at you intently now that you were standing just a foot in front of him.

“Because I love you,” you exclaim, the words leaving your mouth before you even had a chance to process them.

“Then don’t try to fuck other people,” Nico mutters, sliding his jacket off his arms now that you were close enough for him to realize you were shaking, gently placing it over your shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper again, tears welling in your eyes. You slip your arms into his jacket, tugging it tight around your body. “Please, I can’t lose you. I don’t want to be with him, I don’t want to be with anyone else. I want you.”

Nico steps back, taking a deep breath as he looks around the night sky for a minute. “Okay,” Nico mutters and you’re sure it’s more to himself than to you. “Do you want to go back in?”

“I’m not leaving you,” you tell him.

“It’s New Years, go be with your friends, I’m the one who fucked up.”

“No, you didn’t,” you whisper. “I mean, I don’t think you should have punched him but I’m not letting you take all the blame for this...Do you want to come over to my place?”

“Okay…sure, yeah, if that’s what you want to do,” Nico says, reaching over and pulling you into him, rubbing his hand along your arm, trying to warm you up.

So the two of you head back to your apartment, spending the rest of New Year's Eve together, just the two of you and a bottle of champagne.

It wasn’t the New Year's Eve you were expecting. It wasn’t necessarily the New Year's Eve you wanted, but maybe it was the New Year's Eve you needed. The wake up call that you had gone far beyond just friends with benefits. Even if you weren’t ready to accept it.

February 2023

Things had changed after the New Year's Eve incident. Neither of you had verbally talked about what had changed but you both knew it had. It was the second time you told him you loved him. The second time neither of you acknowledged it after it happened. I don’t want to be with anyone else. Your words had continued echoing in your mind and you knew you should deal with those thoughts, those feelings.

But you didn’t.

Maybe you really wanted to keep your commitment to yourself, to not get into a relationship till you had graduated. Maybe you were scared to take that step. Maybe you were embarrassed to ask for that after pushing it away for so long.

So you fell back into the routine you had before. Frequent dates and spending most of your time together in between. It was different, yet the routines remained the same for months.

June 2023

“I need a date to the awards ceremony,” Nico says, referring to the NHL Awards that were approaching quickly.

“I don’t think you need a date,” you reply, looking up over the top of your phone to the other end of the couch, where Nico was sitting.

“Okay…I want a date for the awards,” Nico tells you, reframing his statement.

“Okay,” you mutter, accepting his rephrased sentence.

“Are you going to come with me?”

“No,” you mumble, sitting up straighter on the couch.

“Why not?”

Rolling your eyes you lock your phone, tossing it down next to you. “Nico, you know why. I’m not your girlfriend.”

“This is a big deal for me,” Nico exclaims, clearly already knowing you were going to put up a fight about this. “Just come with me as a friend then.”

“You don’t bring just a friend to that kind of event. I know that much,” you tell him.

Suddenly Nico is on his feet, pacing the length of your living room, making it halfway back before throwing his hands up in defeat. “You can’t just be there for me, support me, even once. I’m getting tired of this…whatever this is.”

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, his words hitting you hard. “I do, I do want to support, I promise.”

Just three days later you’re standing in a fitting room, pulling a dress onto your body. Stepping out of the room your eyes land on Nico, waiting for his reaction to this one. It was the fifth dress you had tried on, Nico telling you he liked all of them.

“I like it,” Nico says, his eyes roaming over your body.

Groaning loudly you turn towards the mirror, adjusting the dress slightly. “Why’d you even insist on coming if you’re not going to give me any input?”

“Because I’m buying it for you,” Nico tells you in a matter-of-fact tone.

“No, you’re not,” you tell him, though it would be pretty helpful for your grad student budget.

“I’m not arguing with you about this.”

“Me neither,” you reply, stepping back into the fitting room to try on another one.

Eventually you narrow it down enough that Nico finally gives his input, once he was simply picking between two dresses. At the till you try to pull your wallet out, Nico’s hand landing on your hands.

“I’m not letting you pay for it, Nico,” you whisper, trying to keep your disagreement out of ear shot of the sales attendant.

“Yes, you are. It doesn’t have to mean whatever you’re thinking, just let me buy the fucking dress,” Nico mutters, his voice carrying an unusually stern tone.

“Okay,” you whisper, eyes widening, stepping back as you watch Nico pull his wallet out and pay for the dress. He carries the bag for you, silence falling between you until you were outside, away from the sanctity of the boutique.

“What’s your problem?” you snap, standing next to Nico’s car, watching him set the bag down into the backseat.

“What?” Nico asks with a loud sigh, slamming the car door a little harder than necessary.

“I don’t know...you’re mad at me for not dating you and-.”

“I’m not mad at you for not dating me,” Nico interrupts. “I’m mad that we are dating and you refuse to admit it.”

“We’re not together,” you state definitively, arms crossed over your chest.

“Okay, whatever, then this is done,” Nico mutters, shaking his head. “Get in the car.”

“I want to go home,” you tell him, yanking the car door open.

“Well that’s where I’m taking you,” Nico grumbles, sliding into the driver’s seat of the car.

The drive back to your apartment is silent, your eyes focused directly ahead of you, the drive seeming longer than you had remembered. Nico pulls into the parking lot, turning the car around so that your side of the car was facing the door, something he had done since the first time he dropped you off at home. Opening the door you slip out, glancing back to find Nico handing you the bag with the dress.

“I don’t want the fucking dress, Nico. I’m not doing this anymore.”

He nods slowly, your words sinking in. “Well what am I going to do with it? Just take it.”

Sighing you reach over, taking the bag from him, knowing it would be easier than continuing to argue about it. “Alright, well,” you mutter, glancing around. “Goodbye…I guess.”

“Bye,” Nico replies, voice strained, eyes barely meeting yours.

You shut the door slowly, walk into your apartment even slower, knowing that if you really did leave it like that it was a big statement. A big statement you weren’t even sure you wanted to be making. But you keep going, till you’re up in your apartment and your eyes are filling with tears.

Your best friend Liv is at your apartment shortly after you tell her what had happened, with a couple bottles of wine and take-out.

“I just don’t get it,” Liv says, sitting on the couch with half a glass of red wine in her hand. “You like him, you two are always together, going on dates. Why won’t you just let him in? Make it official?”

Shrugging you swirl the wine around in your glass, swallowing heavily as another round of tears form in your eyes. “Because I said I wouldn’t, Liv. I promised myself, I would experience things, I would figure myself out before getting into a real relationship.”

“But you’re not doing that,” Liv points out. “You keep saying you don’t want anything serious but you’ve been, what, casually dating this guy for like a year and a half? When’s the last time you went on a date with anyone else?”

Shrugging you try to think back, try to remember the last time you actually even seriously entertained the idea of a date with another man. “I don’t know, last year, I guess.”

“When’s the last time you hooked up with anyone other than him?”

“Liv, I don’t know. It’s been awhile, I get it,” you exclaim, sighing loudly. “I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” Liv asks, voice gentle and reassuring despite your outburst. “You’ve always been scared of getting hurt. But if you don’t let yourself be with someone you’re never going to even have the opportunity for what else could happen.”

“No,” you whisper, wiping away a few tears that had pooled under your eyes. “I’m scared that I pushed him away…for good this time.”

Liv reaches over, placing her hand on your leg. “You’ve been doing this for a year, I don’t think this has to be the last time…if you’re actually going to let him in this time. But if you’re not, if you’re still not ready, maybe it should be for good.”

Liv stays with you for most of the night, watching reality tv and finishing off the wine she had brought over. You didn’t talk much more about Nico, wanting to get your mind off of the situation for awhile, to let yourself calm down.

You contemplated reaching out to Nico. From hours after to days after. But you didn’t know what to say and he wasn’t saying anything either. So you didn’t say anything at all, till you were only a couple days away from the NHL Awards and all you could think about was Nico telling you that he wanted you to be there to support him.

Pulling your phone out you scroll through your contacts, finding the one you were looking for and pressing the call button.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey, um, if I book a flight to Nashville and a hotel and everything can you bring me with you on Monday?”

“To the awards?”

“Yeah.”

“No. What the hell? You’ve been fucking with Nico’s feelings for so long and now you’re going to try to come with me instead?”

“No, that’s not what I mean, Jack,” you mumble, tears welling in your eyes. “I just…I want to be there for him, I can’t miss it, Jack, I can’t. I fucked up, I know I’ve been a shitty person to him and I don’t know how I can change that but I need to see him and I need him to know that I care and I don’t want to lose him and-.”

“Okay,” Jack exclaims, cutting you off. “Holy shit, yeah, okay, you can come. Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, pulling your knees to your chest, staring across the living room at the dark TV, your reflection looking back at you. “I love him, Jack.”

“But you don’t want to be with him.”

“I do.”

“You need to tell him that then. I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Thank you, Jack.”

“Of course. But you really need to figure this out with him because I can’t handle being in the middle of you two fighting.”

“I will.”

You woke up extra early the morning of the awards. Not on purpose, you had an entire day to get ready. But you were too anxious to stay asleep. So you pulled yourself out of bed and tried to spread out the process of getting ready through the day so you wouldn’t have much time to ruminate on everything alone in the quiet hotel room.

Finally you’re heading down the elevator after what felt like the longest day of your life to meet Jack out front on the way to the arena.

“You look good,” Jack tells you as you pull your seatbelt on, adjusting your dress.

“Thanks,” you whisper, your mind so preoccupied with Nico that you were barely registering anything that was happening around you.

When you get to the venue your stomach is churning with so much anxiety you begin to worry you might throw up. “I don’t know what to say to him,” you admit as you walk next to him.

“Sorry might be a good start.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, more to yourself than to anyone else. You force a few deep breaths into your lungs as you follow Jack, till you’re standing just a few feet away from Nico. When your eyes meet you can visibly see the confusion flash across his face, eyes darting between you and Jack.

“What?” Nico begins, Jack stepping back as he says it.

“I’m not getting in the middle of this,” Jack says, hurrying off in the other direction to leave you alone with Nico.

“I’m sorry,” you say, voice shaky. “I’m so sorry, Nico. I shouldn’t have pushed you away so much. And maybe this is too little, too late, I don’t know, but I want to be here for you. You can tell me to go, I understand if you don’t want me here.”

“Of course I want you here,” Nico tells you, reaching over and taking your hand, tugging you closer. “I just can’t keep doing this. I want to be with you, I want this to be real and if not-.”

“I want that too,” you whisper, shaky fingers clutching at Nico’s arms.

“What? Why? Why now?” Nico asks, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Because I realized how stupid I’ve been. I was scared, I was holding onto this idea that I needed to figure something out before I let myself get into a relationship,” you tell him, trying so hard to come up with words that would explain everything, make everything okay. “I was waiting for something, some revelation or something, but I don’t even know what I was waiting for because I don’t want anything else, I just want to be with you and I’m sorry that I didn’t just accept that earlier. I shouldn’t have made you wait like this.”

Nico nods as he listens to your rambling explanation, watching your eyes welling with tears. When you finish talking Nico pulls you into him, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “I would have waited as long as you needed.”

Sniffling you pull back, wiping away the tears from your eyes before they could roll onto your cheeks. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be crying like this,” you say with nervous laugh. “I, um, I don’t know what to do now…we’re here to celebrate you, how…where…what happens now?”

Nico chuckles quietly, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours gently. “Just stay with me, you don’t need to worry about anything else.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, taking Nico’s hand in yours, moving to his side. “I love you,” you whisper.

Nico glances down at you, his lips curling into a smile. “I love you too.”

#nico hischier #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl one shot #nhl imagines #nhl fanfic #nhl fic #hockey fanfic #hockey fic #hockey fanfiction #hockey imagines

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hmslusitania · 3 years

Text

Paint it Black

@evanbucxley @arrenemris you guys wanted petty, jealous Eddie stuck in an elevator with Taylor during the blackout, right?

Eddie Diaz has been involved in his share of awkward dinners.

This one takes the cake though. It starts with him showing up at Buck’s loft by himself, and Buck opening the door with that stupid puppy-dog confused tilt to his head that makes Eddie want to do something drastic.

“Where’s Ana?” he asks.

“We broke up,” Eddie says. “Figured it would be weird to invite her to dinner after that.”

“Oh, I didn’t know,” Buck says, which yeah, Eddie knows because Eddie hadn’t told him yet. “I’m sorry, man.”

Which makes…one of them.

The night gets worse when Taylor shows up with her latest story of her investigation into – Eddie misses the details, but he’s discovered that Taylor’s voice somehow is at the exact right pitch that he can’t quite hear it most of the time. Weird how that works.

Buck, bless his fucking heart, feels none of the tension in the loft. Or if he does, he doesn’t react to it. He stays chipper and upbeat and positive and doesn’t comment when Eddie and Taylor trip over each other to help him with making dinner or pouring drinks or to sit beside him on the couch while the food cooks.

But, like, the spot on the couch beside Buck is Eddie’s spot, and if it’s not Eddie’s it’s Christopher’s.

And Eddie…loses the fight.

Taylor’s tiny, and for just half a second, he entertains the utterly absurd idea of just picking her up and moving her, but it flits out of his head almost as soon as it arrives. It’s quickly followed by an unfortunate realisation that it must be easy as anything for Buck to just pick her up and move her when – which is then immediately erased by the second-hand memory he acquired from Captain Mehta that Buck had been able to just pick Eddie up and toss him into the engine like he was a sack of potatoes – which –

He’s saved when dinner is ready, but he feels Taylor’s eyes on him the whole way through the meal.

Annoyingly, they end up leaving at the same time. Buck and Eddie have a shift in the morning, and Taylor has a story to cut before some deadline or other. Eddie would rather not walk out with her, would rather not share the elevator with her – he briefly considers legging it for the stairs but they’re at the other end of Buck’s floor and the elevator is right there and it would be absolutely blatant what he was doing – but if the alternative is knowing she’s staying the night at Buck’s, he’ll deal with the elevator.

They’re both quiet while the doors slide open, the soft whisper of the brushed stainless-steel brushing against the dust guards the only sound besides the simmering mutual animosity between them. They step into the elevator, which smells vaguely of Pinesol, and Taylor presses the button for the ground floor with a shiny lacquered red nail.

The doors close again and the shimmering, irritable silence fills the space. No elevator music in Buck’s building, which is probably for the best.

“So,” Taylor says as the world’s slowest elevator descends. “Is it personal or are you just jealous?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Eddie says. The elevator has faux wood panelling, not mirrors, so he can’t tell if she’s looking at him or if she’s staring straight ahead like he is.

“You either hate me on a personal level, because I’m me or something,” she says. “Or you hate me because you’re in love with Buck.”

Eddie gets as far as a spluttered, indignant, “I am not in love with—”

And then the elevator lurches. Stops. The lights flicker and then die. The emergency lights do not kick on.

“Well that’s comforting,” Taylor says, dry.

Eddie pulls out his phone. Usually, it’s still connected to Buck’s wifi by the elevator, and the connection’s gone. So it isn’t just the elevator.

“There’s a button in here that calls the fire department, right?” Taylor asks, pulling out her own phone and shining it at the elevator panel. She presses the button that should connect them directly to the department, and nothing happens.

“Depending on how wide the power outage is, it might have knocked out dispatch,” Eddie says.

“Great,” Taylor says. “You’re a firefighter, you can get the doors open, right?”

“With a Halligan and a fully functional shoulder?” Eddie asks. “Sure.”

She huffs. “Do you think it’s just this building or wider?”

“How would I know?” Eddie asks.

“So helpful, thank you.”

“What do you want me to do, Taylor? Use my magical powers of divination to figure out if we’re in a building-wide, block-wide, city-wide, county-wide blackout?” Eddie snaps.

He can’t see her face in the shitty half-light of their respective phone screens, but he hears her roll her eyes.

“It’s because you’re in love with him, right?” she asks.

“For fuck’s sake, Taylor, I’m not in love with—”

“Because he’s in love with you,” she interrupts as though he hasn’t spoken. Eddie’s heart stops. “It’s weird, I’ve never really had to vie for someone’s affections before. I can’t say I’m a fan, but, see, he thinks you aren’t an option.”

“He told you this?” Eddie asks and hopes to God his voice sounds normal because it does not feel like it.

Taylor snorts. “He didn’t have to. Do you guys have any idea what you’re like when you’re around each other? It’s obvious to anyone who even meets you in passing, and I know both of you and have a journalism degree. It’s not difficult math.”

“Then why are you dating him?” Eddie asks, swallowing back the lump that’s just jumped into his throat that feels suspiciously like his heart.

“Because I like him,” Taylor says. “And because I like a challenge.”

Before Eddie can say anything rude about Buck being worth more than a challenge to someone, she sighs.

“I’d say you’re going to have to fight me for him, but it’s not going to be much of a competition,” she says.

“You really think my chances are that bad?” Eddie asks and he hates how sad he sounds, even to his own ears.

Taylor doesn’t get a chance to answer before Eddie’s phone lights up with a picture of Buck and Chris together and Buck’s name in bright letters. In the sudden illumination, he sees the annoyed, resigned expression on her face.

“That answer your question?” she replies, and Eddie answers the phone.

“Hey, did you make it out or are you stuck in the elevator?” Buck asks.

“We’re stuck in the elevator,” Eddie says. “No idea what floor. Maybe three?”

“Cool, don’t go anywhere,” Buck replies and hangs up before Eddie can ask where, exactly, they might go.

An awkward silence hangs in the elevator in the wake of the phone call.

Until, finally, Taylor says, “For what it’s worth, if I had to lose to someone, at least you’re as pretty as I am.”

Eddie is still searching for some kind of response to that – coming up absolutely blank – when the elevator doors slide open. Buck, illuminated by a headlamp, waves at them and pockets his keys.

“You have an elevator key?” Taylor asks while Buck pulls her out.

“Fire marshals and captains get ’em,” Buck says. “They’re standard across production lines.”

“Fire marshals have to give them back,” Eddie points out.

“Eh, when I was a probie, we got an elevator rescue and Bobby told me to go open the doors, and so I stood there trying to pry them open for like five minutes before he walked up to the elevator panel and unlocked them with his key,” Buck says. “Chim and Hen laughed at me for about a month every time we got near an elevator. So when I did my turn as fire marshal, I may have made a copy.”

“Of course you did,” Eddie says. He rolls his eyes and is grateful for the darkness so Buck can’t see exactly how fond he must look.

Taylor catches him, though, and for a tense second, Eddie thinks she’s going to say something about it. But Taylor Kelly is a lot of things, but “quitter” isn’t one of them. It might not be a fair fight, and the outcome might be rigged in Eddie’s favour, but he understands then that she’s going to make him fight for it. Fight for Buck.

No worthier fight, really.

“We should check in, see if they want us on shift early,” Buck says, already pulling his phone out to text or call Bobby.

“And I should go investigate,” Taylor says. “I’m sure my station is missing me.”

“Okay,” Buck says. “Do you want my headlamp for the stairs?”

“I’ve got it, but, thank you,” Taylor says. She stretches on her toes to kiss him goodbye – much more thoroughly than she had when they left Buck’s apartment. She arches an eyebrow at Eddie once she’s let go of Buck and Eddie narrows his eyes right back. “See you boys later.”

She flips on the flashlight on her phone and waltzes off to the stairs.

“We should tell all my neighbours to stay inside,” Buck says.

“Sounds like a plan,” Eddie says, shooting a text to his abuela and Chris to ask them to do the same. He doesn’t know yet if the blackout’s reached their neighbourhood, but it’s a better policy.

“So what did you and Taylor talk about while you were in the elevator together?” Buck asks in between knocking on his neighbours’ doors to announce LAFD please remain inside your homes.

“We, uh, came to an understanding,” Eddie says.

“Oh! Good,” Buck says. He pauses. “What about?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie recommends. He nudges Buck with his shoulder and gets a grin in response. “Let’s check in with Bobby and see if they need us or if they recommend we just stay inside and stay safe, too.”

“No one I’d rather weather a lockdown with,” Buck replies, as if the second she stepped into the stairwell, Taylor also disappeared from his head. “Well, except maybe Christopher.”

Eddie laughs, and thinks in Taylor’s direction, may the best person win.

#9-1-1 #9-1-1 fic #9-1-1 season 5 speculation #this isn't actually speculation it's just goofy #but hey that promo exists so now it's fair game #buddie #technically anti bt #but mostly because it's a buddie ficlet #the ghost ship scribbles

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realcube · 3 years

Text

comforting you during a thunderstorm ⛈

summary: you’re not much of a scaredy-cat but you do have an immense fear of thunder storms which you didn’t tell him about. so this is how he comforts you

characters: saiki k, bokuto, suna

tw// thunderstorms, hurt/comfort

thanks to anon for the wholesome request 🥺 this reminds me of ohshc & i love it so much 💞

Kusuo Saiki

he just popped downstairs to bid farewell to his mother before she headed out to buy groceries, leaving you and him home alone

he didn’t even notice the thunderstorm, until his mom mentioned it

‘oh, i have to walk to the bus-stop in this horrible weather. is there anyway you could make it stop, ku?’

as much as he wanted to say ‘yes, but i cba. cope.’ he just blurted out a ‘no.’ before heading back up to his room

he didn’t think you were scared of anything tbh

i mean you killed a cockroach for him one time so you were basically a fearless god, in his eyes

so imagine his surprise when he walked into his room and..you were gone

he was confused for a moment until he heard faint sobs and whimpers from inside his closet

he slid the door open to reveal you cowering in the corner with your knees pulled up to your chest and your face buried between them, sniffing and only moving when you had to use your hand to wipe away the tears that poured from your eyes and threatened to stain your leggings

‘i go for a minute and this is what happens-- are you crying?’

that was when you realised that saiki had entered the room once again and when you looked up, you saw his tall, daunting figure looking down at you - the glow from the lightening behind him not doing any favours as it just made him look even more unnerving

‘i don’t cry. i’m just.. excreting my eye juices. it clears your skin-- ah!’ you tried to explain but you were cut of by another boom of thunder rattle through the house

‘you’re lying.’

yeah, you knew he was a psychic so you weren’t really sure why you thought you’d be able to get the lie passed him

also, due to his psychic abilities and common sense, he figured that the thunder/lightening was the reason for your distress

saiki sighed, not really sure if he should do what he was about to but upon seeing how frightened you were and the nervous series of continuous thoughts rushing through your head...he just had to

you heard another noise which sounded rather different from thunder but it startled you none the less

you looked up at your boyfriend for comfort, only to notice that he was gone

then, you caught a glimpse of something unusual from the window

you approached it hesitantly and peered outside to see the cluster of storm clouds being swept aside like dust by some unknown force, to reveal the bright blue sky that was hiding behind it

you were in awe and although the masses probably thought this was the work of god or the wind, it didn’t take long for you to figure out that it was your psychic boyfriend who was behind it all

‘it’s gone now.’ his voice tickled your ears from behind and to say it gave you the fright of your life was an understatement

you jumped, alarmed at first but once you turned around for your eyes to meet his, you couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief wash over you

‘oh, yes. thank you, saiki!’ you chirped, throwing your arms around him and pulling him into a tight embrace

he was a bit taken back at first but it didn’t take long for him to melt into your touch and hug back, cradling your head and patting it bc i hc that is how he hugs/cuddles

(he just wants you to feel safe with him 🥺 even though he is an OP psychic who could probably kill you if he’s not careful)

anyway, saiki will ensure that you never experience another thunderstorm for as long as you live

Kōtarō Bokuto

you already know that the first thing bokuto is going to do when he sees you cry and cuddle up next to you and cry too so you don’t feel embarrassed

but like when he comes back from the kitchen and heating the pizza he was about to eat, then he noticed you curled up under a blanket on the couch, shivering and whimpering..he drops the pizza

like he is so shocked

he didn’t want to believe that you were crying tbh

but as your bf it was his duty to comfort you

bc you always comfort him so well when he feels down and he wants to do the same for you!!

anyway, the first thing he does is join you under the blanket and cry with you for a bit

but his fake wails are so bad that you can’t help but laugh FVHIDBFA

once he notices that he’d cheered you up slightly, he’ll inquire, ‘are you scared of thunder?’

you nodded slightly, gently leaning your head on his strong shoulder, ‘a bit.’

bokuto bent his arm to pat and rub your head reassuringly, ‘but you’re so fearless, (y/n)! remember that time you went bungee jumping and even I was too afraid to do it?!’

you simply shrugged, tensing as you heard the thunder rumble through the living room

‘but anyway,’ bokuto hummed, placing a gentle kiss on your temple, ‘is there anything i can do to make you feel better?’

you shrugged once again, ‘maybe just stay with me for a bit longer, please.’

your wish was his command ✨

now there is no way he’s leaving your side until the storm passes

whether that takes a few minutes or the whole night

he’s not going to leave you even to eat the pizza he had dropped on the living room floor

and he hold you close against his chest so you know that he’s not going going anywhere

also, he started talking not only instinctively but also to drown out the sound of the thunder and redirect your attention onto him

‘and then kuroo was all like SUPRISE!! and i was all like THANKS, MAN BUT IT’S NOT EVEN MY BIRTHDAY and then kuroo was like I KNOW!! god, he knows me so well.’

‘hey, (y/n) - we should dress up for halloween his year! kuroo and his girlfriend are doing a couples costume so i think we should do one too and out-shine them! i was thinkin’ fred and daphne except you can be fred.’

‘i was looking on five minute crafts of food the other day - don’t ask why - and some of the desserts were lookin’ kinda tasty tbh. i’ll send you the link so we can make ‘em sometime.’

‘why did you comment ‘i’ll give you my first born child in exchange for you to crush my skull with your thicc, juicy, scrumptious thighs 🤤😳’ under my instagram pic? and why does it have 1k likes?’

needless to say, you can’t be sad for too when you’re around bokuto lmao

Rintarō Suna

RAIEVABTG DON’T EVEN LIE HE’D JUST BE LIKE ‘cover your ears den lmao’

ok ok so you’re on facetime with him and thunder blares through your room - it’s so loud that even he can hear it through the phone - and you jump, immediately pulling your blankets over yourself

he was hitting his vape then he pulled away to look at his phone again and you were gone (bc you had brought your phone under the covers with you and obvs it was dark)

he could also hear your little whimpers even though you tried you best to hide them by slapping your hand over your mouth

‘doll, where’d ya go?’ he inquired, concern laced in his voice. he opened his drawer to toss his vape away but he did not avert his eyes from the screen just in case something happened

‘i’m still here. just under the covers.’ you spoke, doing your best to hide how shaky your voice was

‘why?’ he puffed, allowing the vapor to leak from his mouth and escape out to his surrounding - which was his bedroom

‘oh, no reason.’

suna knew you were lying, it wasn’t hard to tell, ‘well, if that’s the case, can you come out from the cover, doll? i wanna see your face.’

‘-no.’ you immediately replied, letting out a feeble sigh as you realised that lying wasn’t going to get you anywhere. ‘i’m just a bit afraid of the thunder, that’s all.’

suna cocked his head to the side, ‘thunder? never heard that one before.’ he said, mentally cursing himself out just as he said that since it came out a lot harsher than he intended, ‘erm, why don’t you try putting your headphones on?’ he suggested in a soft voice, trying to make up for the uncalled-for comment he made

you hummed in agreement, wondering why you didn’t think of that

momentarily tossing your duvet aside, you rushed to your desk where you black headphones were laying, you picked them up and dashed back towards your bed as if someone was chasing you, diving onto it, pulling the cover back over your head and plugging the headphones into your phone before pulling them over your ears

‘this helps a bit. thanks, suna.’

suna’s eyes widened as he slumped back against his headboard, ‘suna? what happened to babe?’

‘thanks, babe.’ you corrected yourself with a giggle

now that suna’s voice was the most prominent sound in your ears, the thunder seemed to fade into satisfying background noise

you couldn’t get over the random flashes of lightening though, those always made you yelp - and he noticed this

‘i really wish you were here right now.’ you mused, hugging your pillow to your chest to imitate what you’d to if he was here with you, ‘i’d give you all my kisses.’

‘bet.’ was the last thing you heard before he hung up on you

you were quite bummed at first but then you registered that he was probably on his way over :))

and he was!

you heard a few loud knocks on your door followed by a monotone mutter ‘let me in, i’m freezing my tits off out here.’

ofc you let him in and after you led him to your bedroom, he immediately pinned you to your bed, ‘you know what i’m here for.’

‘huh?’

he was confused for a moment but then he noticed that you still had the headphones on

he snickered, momentarily pulling one of the earpads away from your ear to say, ‘kisses.’

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starks-hero · 3 years

Text

Onward and Upward

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Request: If it’s okay for a request for Tom x reader where they go to the Onward premiere and get very emotional during the movie, just funny and fluffy

Summary: You accompany Tom to the premiere of his new movie. But no one told you it was going to be so damn emotional.

Warnings: fluff, Onward Spoilers (?)

Word count: 1,361

You smiled as the camera's flashed, trying your best not to squint as the persistent blinding light filled your vision. Tom stood by your side, his arm around your waist, holding you close. He turned to you, offering a bright, reassuring smile. You were both well used to the premiere drill at this point. You would both smile, allow the press to take as many photos and ask as many questions as they saw fit, enjoy the movie and then, with any luck, make it home for a quiet night of celebration.

Tom leaned in and placed a gentle kiss to your cheek and the paparazzi lapped it up. More cameras snapped as people called both your names, desperate for a decent photo.

After a few minutes of posing and endless smiling, you were given the go-ahead to move on. Tom's hand slid into yours as you turned your back to the flashing lights and moved on down the red carpet.

The cameras were left behind, but next up was the rapid fire interviews. Cameramen and presenters from every channel imaginable were lined up, eagerly waiting to pull an actor aside and quiz them about the movie and sometimes, things that were considered a little more private.

You leaned in closer to Tom, whispering in his ear in favour of yelling over all the other merging voices. “I'll see you inside,” you smiled. The interviews really only focused on the movie stars and besides, you didn't fancy getting caught with a persistent interviewer asking questions about your love life. “Knock 'em dead.”

Tom chuckled, leaning in and kissing you gently, despite the very public setting, dozen of cameras and yelling fans and interviewers. “For luck,” he teased.

Smacking his shoulder playfully, you pushed him towards the waiting crowd.

You continued down the carpet and into the theatre, meeting Harrison, Harry, Paddy and Sam, all looking exceedingly dashing in their suits. You all made your way through the well-dressed crowds to the screening room, finding your seats in the reserved front row.

Within the next ten to fifteen minutes, the stars, directors, screenwriters and producers began to flood in, Tom among them. He smiled when he spotted you, his best friend and his brothers. He excused himself from his castmates and rushed over, kissing your cheek and taking his own seat between you and Haz.

Despite his cheerful exterior, you couldn't help but notice his bouncing leg and how he continued to pull his lip between his teeth.

“Hey.” You gently placed your hand over Tom's, he glanced up to meet your reassuring smile. “It's going to be great. Everyone's going to love it.”

It was common for Tom to get anxious before a premiere, though he was exceptionally good at hiding it. He doubted himself, his work, his acting ability. And you hated to see him doubt himself after all the hard work he poured into the project.

Tom smiled, intertwining your fingers and relaxing into his chair. You always put him at ease, always knew what he needed to hear.

“Thank you, darling.” Just as Tom whispered his thanks, the theatre darkened and the crowd quietened. You smiled in excitement as Tom exhaled slowly.

He'd put so much work into this movie, and you could tell he was proud of it and wanted people to enjoy it. It was only his second shot at voice acting, something he'd been incredibly anxious about. But the calming sensation of your thumb tracing the back of his hand was doing a wondrous job at calming his nerves.

As the narrators' voice flowed through the speakers and the bright animation lit up the screen you leaned over to whisper in Tom's ear.

“I'm not going to cry at this, am I?”

Tom hesitated slightly. “Nah.” He shook his head. “It's not that sad.”

Tom may have been a talented actor, but he couldn't tell a convincing lie to save his life.

Deciding to not question any further, you sat back as the opening titles filled the screen.

‘Onward’.

An hour later and you were weeping in your seat, with a good twenty minutes still left on the movie. You wiped at your eyes, trying to keep your crying to a minimum as to not disturb anyone.

You cursed the amazing screenwriting and Tom's incredible acting. You were amazed how powerful his performance was, despite his face being hidden behind the animated character of Ian, his emotions seeped into every word.

As Ian began to cross off all the things he never got to do with his dad and the music swelled, you bit back an audible whimper. You never imagined you'd be crying over an animated elf with unresolved daddy issues. Children's movies weren't supposed to be this emotional!

A gentle tap on your shoulder caught your attention and you pulled your eyes away from the screen. Tom was watching you with a sympathetic smile.

Opening up his arm he motioned for you to join him in his seat. That was the great thing about premiere screenings, the VIP seats were huge.

“Come here, it's okay,” he whispered as you joined him in his own seat. He wrapped his arm around you and pressed a kiss to your head. “If it's any consolation, I swear I don't die at the end.”

You giggled quietly, drying your eyes as Tom's hand ran down your side. Everyone else was far too infatuated with the movie to notice the small moment you'd shared.

You'd managed to stop your tears by the movie's conclusion, and as the credits began to roll, the theatre erupted in applause.

You turned to Tom with a proud smile only to see that he was now the one with tear-stained cheeks.

“What happened to it not being that sad?” you asked.

Tom simple chuckled, dabbing at his eyes with his sleeves and muttering a fond ‘shut up’ under his breath.

As Tom stood, he was met by a pair of arms wrapping around his middle as Paddy tackled him with a hug. The youngest Holland was quickly followed by the twins and Tom greeted them both with open arms. They were all a little teary-eyed.

You knew if there was one similarity between Tom and his character, it was his unconditional love for his brothers.

The crowd continued to cheer and whistle as Tom pulled away from the boys, pecked you on the lips and then made his way onto the small stage that had been set up below the screen for him and his costars to give some final words of appreciation and thanks.

Once the speeches and small talk were over, you and Tom, hand in hand, made your way back to the car waiting for you outside. Luckily most of the paparazzi had called it a night and cleared off, so you both got to enjoy the somewhat normal peace and quiet.

The moment after you both clambered into the car and muttered the address to the driver, Tom's lips were on yours. You were surprised, but you certainly weren't complaining. He pulled away slightly. “Thank you.”

“For what, Tommy?”

“Everything,” he replied, kissing you again. “For being so supportive.” Kiss. “No matter how long I'm away filming.” Kiss. “For always seeing the best in me.” Kiss. “All of it.”

You simply shrugged, running a hand along his jaw. “I'm just returning the favour.”

He leaned in to capture your lips again, and just as his hand began to venture down your body, you both realised the back of a taxi probably wasn't the best place to start something you couldn't finish then and there. You were both only twenty minutes from home anyways, you were sure you could both wait that long.

“So,” Tom pulled back but kept his hand locked with yours. “What was your favourite part?”

“Barley,” you said nonchalantly.

You smirked at Tom's mock expression of offence.

“The other brother was pretty fine-looking too.”

“Y/N, it was an animated movie,” Tom stressed with a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Still,” you shrugged, leaning into Tom's side. “He had a pretty nice voice.”

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom x reader #tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fandom

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nagito-kissmaeda · 3 years

Text

Can I Call You Tonight? - Nagito Komaeda x Reader

Summary: you send Nagito a nude. He likes it. Contains : Nagito x Reader, explicit NSFW content, fem reader, no pronouns used Words: 2467

ミ☆ Please send me a DM or an ask if you’d like me to write something for you!

You aren’t sure what possessed you to take the photo. You are even less sure what possessed you to hit send.

This incessant crush that you’ve had for almost two years now, it isn't going anywhere. It only gets stronger and stronger. with every meeting your heart races faster, you’ve been dreaming about his hands, the cut of his jaw. Nagito Komaeda consumes your every thought.

You aren't good with words. You have no idea how you would even begin to tell him how you feel about him. How you have always felt about him. So did something stupid, shirt off, tits out stupid.

But what's done is done. All you can do now is wait. Chewing on your fingernails and staring at your phone screen in absolute horror.

This was a terrible idea.

***

On the other side of the phone, Nagito freezes. One hand clapped over his mouth as his eyes drink in the image that just appeared in his message app. His heart is racing, his breathing is heavy. He shouldn’t even be looking at it, there is no way someone as pathetic as he should even be permitted to view your perfect visage. His throat bobs, horrified at how quickly his jeans are growing tight.

You’re smiling directly into the camera, it’s almost like you can see him. Breasts squished together and cheeks rosy pink, it almost looks like you took this photo just for him. That you know he is looking at it.

His cock is painfully hard now, begging for him to touch it. He can’t. He can’t use your perfect body in such a...a filthy way. You must have sent this photo by accident, you probably don’t even know that he is looking at it. That thought makes his cock twitch in his jeans and he groans. He is reprehensible.

It’s just as he finally starts giving in, when his hand starts slowly trailing down his torso, that his phone pings again. He blinks, stomach turning when he sees the message is from you once more. He’s ready for you to express your horror at sending something so intimate to someone like him, to call him out for even thinking about touching himself while looking at it. But then, he is taken by surprise.

Did you like it?

His heart is racing, staring wide eyed at his phone, any possible reply has died right at his fingertips. He’s all but short circuited.

I’ve never done something like this before...I hope it was okay…

You sent it on purpose. You sent it TO HIM on purpose.

Nagito? Oh god, I shouldn’t have sent that should I? I’m so sorry, we can pretend it never happened.

He is thrust back into the present, fingers tapping wildly on his phone screen.

My apologies! I was just shocked that you would intend to send something like this to someone like me.

...I do like it.

He unzips his jeans and takes his cock in his free hand. Sighing shakily at the relief of pressure. Looking down at the phone where he can still see the photo (the photo you took for him) and he has a sudden thought. Taking a deep breath in through his nose, he forces his shaky fingers to type out another message.

Do you want me to return the favour?

***

You’re sitting on your bed. Holding your phone in your hand and shaking. Was he really asking what you thought he was? Did he want to send you a picture of..of...your teeth sink into your lower lip, you can feel an unmistakable warmth between your thighs. You swallow, and manage to reply.

Only if it’s okay with you...

Then you wait. Staring down at the phone with nervous eyes, fingers on your right hand slowly dance around the edge of your nipple. Not wanting to touch it just yet. Just the thought of him taking a photo on the other end of the phone is making you wet, just imagining him slipping a hand into his already tight jeans and-

Your phone pings.

It’s not much to look at. I’m sorry.

Your phone pings again and you almost drop your phone out of your hand when the picture pops up. Not much to look at? Nagito is a goddamn liar.

Surprisingly, it isn’t his cock that draws your eyes first, but his hand. You know that hand, from his chewed cuticles to the ridges of his knuckles. The same hand you have been dreaming about holding yours, is now wrapped firmly around the base of the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen. Flushed red and dripping with pre-cum. You can feel the arousal pang in the pit of your stomach. That was Nagito’s cock. You were looking at it. It was his. You gulp.

The hand not gripping your phone slowly slips down your stomach and into your panties. You’re shocked to find yourself already wet, gently rubbing circles around your clit as you stare at the perfect bead of cum balancing on the tip on Nagito’s cock. God how badly you want to clean it up with your tongue.

You look perfect, Nagito.

You manage to type with your shaking hand, dipping one finger inside of yourself and mewling at the feeling. Boldness takes over, and you send another message before you can regret it.

I’m so wet for you

It’s a few minutes before you get a response, you’re too busy thrusting a finger in and out of yourself while imagining just how that perfect cock of his would feel in its place. You’ve taken to examining some of the finer details, you can see the jut of his hip bones in the background, blurry and pale, you want to suck on them until they turn purple. Then, another message:

Another angle. The camera is higher this time, giving you a perfect view of his face. His white hair is fucked five ways to hell, plastered to his forehead with sweat. His milky skin is flushed pink all the way down to his collarbones and his white shirt is bunched up around his ribcage. He’s looking right at you, eyes half lidded and a thin line of drool escaping his full lower lip. Hand still tightly wrapped around his cock. You feel like you could cum from this alone.

I would like to see more of you. If you would allow it.

If it was anyone but Nagito, you would say no. You are shy about your appearance, the only way you were able to send that first photo was hitting the button before you had time to actually think about it. But still, he wants to see more of you, and you trust him. Your hand is quivering as you slip out of your panties, finger still slowly circling your clit as you angle the camera downward. This is so weird. You can't even look at the phone, you’re so embarrassed. It would be so much easier if he could just look on his own, if you didn’t need to practice angling the camera for the perfect shot.

A thought hits you, and you bite down on your lip.

Fuck it. You decide, and hit the video call button

***

Nagito jumps when his phone starts to ring. Worried that somehow, someone out there knows exactly what he is doing, but then he realises its you. His hand shakes when he brings up his finger and hits accept.

You pop onto his screen immediately, cheeks flushed, sweat dripping down your brow, mouth hung open and panting. The hand around his cock tightens almost instinctively. To see it in a photo is one thing, to see you moving. Well, that’s something completely different.

“H...Hey, Nagito” You breathe, breaking off into a moan halfway through his name. His name. You just moaned his name.

“Ah…” His throat bobs, still slowly working his cock through the thick trails of pre-cum dripping down it, “Hello…”

“I thought this might be...hng” It’s now that he notices the way your free arm is moving. Something is happening off screen, he can guess what it is. You have a shaky breath and manage a nervous smile, “...you know, easier? Than the photos…”

“Ah, yes.” A nervous laugh bubbles up out of his chest, “I was having trouble typing. My…mmph, my hands are shaky.”

You smile softly, but a twitch of your lips betrays your nerves. Nagito knows you so well, he can read you like a book, you swallow, “do you still want to see?”

A noise that could almost be called a whimper escapes his mouth at the thought, “y-yes...of course! If you are willing to show someone like me then I would be...exhilarated.”

He watches as you take a deep breath, and begin panning the camera down past your breasts, over the curve of stomach, before it finally focuses in on your fingers, dipping slowly in and out of your dripping center. He chokes on a sound, half a moan, half a laugh as he watches you languidly fingering yourself. First just one finger, but then quickly two.

“You weren’t kidding about how wet you are…” he breathes, completely in awe of you.

Nagito hears the nervous ring of your laugh from off camera, “Y-yeah.” You breath shakily, fingers still continuing their ministrations, “Is this okay? It’s probably weird to watch me doing this…”

Your thumb reaches up and brushes across your clit, he sees your thighs shake, “No...no, I am…” he licks his lips, tightening the grip of his hand around his weeping cock, “I am honoured that you trust me this much.”

There is a little fumbling, and then the camera comes back up your face, bright red and smiling shyly as you refuse to make eye contact with the phone screen, “I’m glad you liked it…”

There’s a lull in conversation. Your eyes turn to meet his through the screen, and for a moment he is just jerking off to your expression. The way your eyes clench shut, the way you hiss through your teeth. He can see your arm moving faster, he can’t help but wonder how many fingers are inside you now. Can’t help but wonder how many of his fingers would fit inside of you.

“N-nagito…?” You ask, voice high pitched and almost mewling.

He gulps, his hips are bucking up into his hand now. You look so beautiful like this, “Yes…?”

You meet the approximation of his eyes, chewing your lower lip nervously, “Are...are you still-?”

Nagito nods sheepishly, “Y-Yeah...I-“

“Can I see?”

His heart is racing, but he nods and shuffles a little higher up on the pillows. He takes a deep breath in through his nose and switches his phone to the back facing camera. He watches your eyes blow wide and your mouth drops open in a moan, “F-Fuck, Nagito...you’re so pretty.”

He laughs in disbelief, slowly bringing his fist up to the head of his cock and teasing the tip with the pad of his thumb. He can see that your eyes are following the movement, “you...you really like it?”

“If I was there with you it would have been in my mouth like half an hour ago.”

Nagito groans at that, head falling backward on his pillow as he flips the camera back around, “you’re torturing me.”

“The faces you’re making…” you whisper, biting down hard on your lower lip to hide a moan. Your arm is moving even faster, breasts shaking with the movement, “god, the way you look right now. Someone should carve you out of marble.”

He laughs breathlessly, pumping his cock even faster, “why do you keep saying such things? I can’t possibly hold a candle to you.” His eyes turn to your face, glowing with arousal on his phone, “you’re like a vision, something someone like me should only be permitted to see in my dreams.”

You turn even redder, he didn’t know that was possible. A smile crawls up the side of his face at your expression. He never wants to stop looking at you. Nagito can feel himself getting close, there’s a tightness in the pit of his stomach that is just begging him to let it go. Keening and moaning, eyes scrunching shut as his hips guide his palm into a particularly delicious stroke, he can here you whimpering and mewling on the other end of the phone, and if he listens hard enough he can hear the wet sounds of your fingers pumping into and out of your sex.

“Nhhn-Nagito...I wish it was your fingers inside of me.”

He felt those words in his insides, from his stomach all the way out to the tips of his fingers. It was like a bolt of lightning to his heart, to his cock, to his everything. You wanted him. You wanted him. His mouth drops open, and words escape him before he can think better of it, “I...I don't deserve it...but…” he gasps as his thumb brushes over his weeping slit, drool running down over his chin, “I want your mouth on me...i want it so badly...i can’t--ahhh~”

***

Nagito has the prettiest orgasm you’ve ever seen. His mouth drops open, his eyelids flutter closed and his back arches up to the ceiling. In the soft light of the lamp by his bed, he looks like an angel, chest heaving as he finally comes undone.

You don't stop touching yourself, twitching and gasping, getting closer and closer just watching him as he shatters. The moment that breaks you, that makes the coil in your stomach finally snap is when you catch a glimpse of his wrist giving himself one last pump off screen. His brow furrowing and a delicious moan escaping his perfect lips, splattering his bare torso with his cum.

It’s too much. With a breathless moan you feel yourself tip over the edge, your insides tightening, toes curling and the world goes white behind your eyes. All you can think about is Nagito. Your hand is shaking when you finally slip your fingers out of yourself and wipe them on your bare thigh, when you open your eyes you can see Nagito laying back on his pillows and breathing deeply as he comes back down.

You giggle, “So…”

Nagito cracks open an eye, “So…”

“Do you want to keep talking?” You grab a shirt and pull it on over your head, “Or was that...it?”

You watch as Nagito runs a hand through the mess of his hair, he gives you a sleepy smile, “I need to clean up, but i can leave the audio on if you want?”

“Yeah.” You reply, “That sounds good.”

#nagito x reader #komaeda x reader #nagito komaeda #komaeda nagito #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa #super danganronpa two

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sequinsmile-x · 3 years

Text

Fracture

Theo Hotchner breaks his arm.

A mini-fic set post ITSWM. (I know I haven’t finished posting that yet but I wrote some fluff for this universe because I needed the serotonin, and thought you might too.)

Rating: General

Words: 2.5k

It happens in slow motion. Aaron watches as Theo falls from the jungle gym, landing awkwardly on his arm as he hits the ground. There’s a beat of silence, a moment where Aaron thinks everything might be ok when runs over, and then his son starts crying hysterically as he sits up.

When he sees Theo’s arm, bent at an unnatural angle, his first thought is that Emily was going to kill him.

____________

Emily feels her phone ring in her pocket for the second time in as many minutes and the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She knows it’s Aaron without looking, having rejected his initial call only a minute before with the intention of calling him back the minute she was free. He never calls her at work, knowing the pressure of her job since he had once done it himself.

He usually texts her, sends her a photo of the kids as they do something adorable or slightly mischievous. Photos of Amelia smiling widely at the camera, or Theo and Jack playing Mario Kart together, matching looks of concentration on their faces. They helped, reminding her of what was waiting for her when she got home from horrific case after horrific case, that despite everything she still had her family.

She’d never tell Aaron that they also hurt at times. Tiny reminders of what she missed out on when she was away.

The fact he was calling her twice in such quick succession could only mean something was wrong.

Emily looks at the team as they deliver the profile to the local detectives. Dave catches her eye and gives her a quick nod as she lifts her phone and tilts her head down a hallway.

She answers the phone just as it’s about to ring out. “Aaron, is everything ok?”

Aaron sighs over the phone. “It’s Theo, he’s okay I promise, but he’s broken his arm.”

For a moment she swears her heart stops in her chest, panic seeping through her body at the thought of her precious little boy being hurt. “He’s not okay if he’s got a broken bone, Aaron.”

“Sweetheart.” He says firmly, preventing her from spiralling any further. “He’s in a bit of pain but he’s ok. He’s just convinced me this means we get to have ice cream for dinner.”

She barks out a laugh that catches in her throat. “That boy will do anything for ice cream.” She pauses to take a breath, her emotions still overwhelming despite Aaron’s attempts to distract her. “What happened?”

“He fell off the jungle gym.”

She frowns at this, indignation running through her veins. “Aaron, I-”

“Yes, I know you told me he has almost fallen off of it before. I can’t exactly tell him he can’t go on it though sweetheart.”

She sighs, and feels the anger leave her just as quickly as it came. She looks over her shoulder when she hears the room full of local officers and detectives start to disperse.

“Do you want to talk to him?” Aaron asks gently.

“Yes please.” She breathes out, and waits a second as she hears Aaron talking to Theo in the background, the sound of the emergency room they were in almost drowning out their conversation.

“Hi, Mommy.” He sniffs, sounding incredibly sorry for himself. Her chest feels tight at the sound of it, at the use of the name ‘mommy’ when her 8 year old had mostly been calling her ‘mom’ lately.

“Hi, sweetie. How are you feeling?”

“My arm hurts.” He grumbles. “The doctor said I could get a cast in any colour.”

“Really?” She asks, voice full of fake enthusiasm. “What colour are you going for?”

“Green.” He sniffs again, a sign that he had been crying that broke her heart. “Are you coming home?”

Emily closes her eyes, and she blows out a breath. “I can’t, sweetie. I’m working, remember? I’m in Texas.”

“Okay.” The disappointment in his voice is palpable, and it takes everything in her to not start crying there and then. Thoughts of how she could leave in the middle of the case, assign someone else as agent in charge and just go home and hug her son.

And maybe smack her husband for letting Theo go on the jungle gym in the first place.

“Emily.” Dave’s voice interrupts her and she turns to look at him, holding up a finger to show she just needed another minute.

“Theo, honey, I’ve got to go okay. I love you so much. I’ll call later.”

“Love you too.”

She smiles at that, as she has done every single time since he first said it. “Can you pass me back to Dad?”

There's another shuffle on the other end of the phone, a quick curse from her husband as one of them nearly drops the phone. “Sweetheart?”

“I’ve really got to go, I’m sorry.”

“Baby, we get it.” He reassures, clearly able to hear how sad she is, how torn she is over what to do. “Theo gets it too usually, you know you’re the first thing any of us wants when we’re sick or hurt.”

Emily nods despite the fact she knows he can’t see her, and she hastily wipes away the tear the movement drops onto her cheek. “I know, you Hotchner’s really can’t cope without me.” She jokes.

“We can get by until you wrap up the case.” He replies, and she can just imagine the grin on his face, the way it would bring out his dimples. “I’ll text when we’re home okay?”

“Yeah, thank you. Love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

She hangs up the phone and turns back to Dave, who is standing behind her still, with concern all over his face. “Is everything okay at home?”

Emily sighs as she puts her phone back in her pocket and starts to walk back to the conference room, Dave keeping pace at her side. “Theo’s broken his arm, so Aaron took him to hospital.”

Despite how neutrally she tries to say it she clearly fails, Dave coming to a stop and putting a hand on her arm. “The poor kid. We can always manage here if you need to head back.”

She frowns at him. “I can still do my job, Dave.”

He holds his hands up in surrender. “I never said you couldn’t, Bella. I just know that you aren’t going to believe he’s fine until you see him for yourself.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I am fine.” She practically growls at him before walking past into the conference room.

“Yeah.” Dave says to himself. “That was definitely said in a way a person who was fine would say it.”

____________

Emily was aware that she was in a foul mood, snapping at the team as they asked questions or every time they came up against a dead end. The need to get home as quickly as possible clawing at her throat. Photos that Aaron had sent her the night before of Theo with his bright green arm cast, and a bowl of ice cream in front of him only further deepening that need.

It culminates in her shouting at Derek like she never had before, something that made him say the ‘Hotch attitude’ was finally rubbing off on her. She threatened him with victimology for the rest of his career and then stormed out, ignoring the way the locals looked at her as she did.

She finds solace in the women’s bathroom, or at least she did right up until Dave followed her in.

“You shouldn’t be here, Dave.” She says as she briefly turns to look at him, before going back to looking at her weary face in the mirror. Sleep had not come easy for her the night before, George Foyet always making his way back into her subconscious every time someone in her family was hurt.

“Neither should you, Emily.” He clears his throat, clearly ready for an argument. “Which is why I’ve booked you a flight home.”

Emily turns quickly at that, stares him down. “You did what?”

“I booked you a flight, it leaves in two hours. I’ll drive you to the airport.”

She takes a step towards him and crosses her arms across her chest. “I can’t just leave in the middle of a case. I am the Unit Chief.”

“And you’re a damn good one, but you’re also an excellent mother. And I know that you need to see your little boy more than he needs to see you.”

Emily stares at him before nodding, relenting to doing exactly what she had been wanting to do in the 30 hours it had been since Aaron had called her. “You’re right. I’ll go. But I expect updates about what's going on here.”

“As you wish.” He stands out of her way so she can get past him and leave the bathroom. “The ticket is first class by the way, so drink some free champagne and do everyone a favour and chill out.”

Emily grimaces as they walk back towards the conference room. “Have I really been that bad?”

“You owe everyone at least one drink. I think you owe Derek a month off of paperwork.”

“He wishes.” Emily scoffs.

____________

Aaron watches in amusement as Amelia climbs onto the couch next to Theo and starts to, not very gently, stroke his hair. It’s what Emily did for all of them, Aaron included, when they were sick or hurt and Theo lets his sister do it, despite it clearly being the last thing he wanted. Watching his two year old daughter mirror her mother made his heart constrict, and he wished more than ever that his wife was here.

His phone rings and he grabs it, smiling as he sees Emily’s name and picture on the screen. “Hey, how are things?”

“I’m on a plane.” She replies, a small laugh in her voice. “Dave bought me a ticket and drove me to the airport. Took me as far as security would let him to make sure I got onboard.”

Aaron couldn’t pretend he was anything other than relieved. He’d noticed the tension in his wife during the brief phone calls and text exchanges about their son’s injury. Not to mention Theo was miserable, barely putting up with his little sister's antics anymore, and getting crankier by the second.

“What time do you get in?”

“Too late for you to even think about picking me up, I’ll get a cab home.”

He wants to argue, to go get her and tell her everything is fine, but he knows that's not what she needs him to do. She would want him here, in their home, with their kids. “Okay, just text me when you land.”

“I will. Love you.”

“You too.” He says as he hangs up.

“Everything okay, Dad?” Jack’s voice comes from behind him.

Aaron turns to look at his 17 year old son. “Yeah, Emily is on her way.”

Jack smiles at him, the same smile he inherited from Haley. “Uncle Dave sent her home?” Jack laughs at Aaron’s nod. “That’s a whole day sooner than you said it would happen.”

Aaron laughs. “She must have been in a really bad mood.”

____________

When Emily gets home it’s already well past Theo’s bedtime. As soon as she is in the house she sneaks into his bedroom and her chest tightens at the sight of his bright green cast laid on a pillow next to him. Archie held tightly under Theo’s good arm. She walks over to his bed and presses a kiss to his forehead, whispering apologies for not being home earlier into his hairline.

Amelia is also asleep. Emily sits down on the edge of her bed and tucks her in a little bit tighter and runs her fingers through her daughter's increasingly unruly hair.

Jack was still up, playing video games online with his friends. She pops her head in his room and quietly says hi, aware she had accidentally embarrassed him in the past. He throws her a grateful smile and a wave and she closes the door behind her.

When she gets to her own room Aaron is sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for her, and immediately stands as she closes the door behind her. She’s in his arms before she can really register it, and the lump that had sat in her throat since Aaron called her about Theo dissipates almost immediately.

Emily wraps her arms tightly around him, and presses her face into his soft t-shirt. “Hey.”

Aaron presses a kiss to the top of her head and rubs a hand up and down her back. “Hey sweetheart.”

He encourages her to get ready for bed, and joins her. Their nighttime routines are easily done around each other, years of practise behind them. Once they settle into bed he immediately pulls her into his arms and rests her on his chest.

“You ok?” He asks gently, fingers running up and down her arm.

“Yes.” She swallows against the word, and it tasted like a lie. “No. I just feel like a bad mom.” She admits into his chest, the fear that had been circling around in her head for longer than the last couple of days bursting out of her. “I know I’m not.” She says as she feels him take in a breath to admonish her, and she rubs the tension from his chest with the palm of her hand. “Being their mom is my favourite thing, but when I can’t be here when my son hurts himself...it really sucks.”

Aaron hears the way her voice cracks, and the way her body shudders when she tries to hold back the tears he had no doubt she had been putting off since he called her to tell her about Theo’s accident.

“You’re okay, Em. And so is he.” Aaron kisses the top of her head. “He’ll be so happy when he wakes up to see you tomorrow, and I’ll go back to being second favourite even though I gave him ice-cream two days in a row.”

She pushes herself up by the hand on his chest, her tearstained face coming into view. “Two days in a row?”

____________

Theo is delighted to see her the next morning, all but forgetting about his broken arm as he launches himself at her. He begs her to sign his cast, to draw a picture on it for him, and she smiles when she sees the scribbles on it clearly left by Aaron helping Amelia hold the pen.

When her daughter realises she is home she squeals and demands to be held by her mother for hours.

They watch a movie together, all of them piling into the living room. Theo chooses the movie, Monsters Inc, and Aaron levels a glare at Jack when he opens his mouth to complain.

“Breaking your arm is fun.” Theo exclaims as he sits in between his parents, ready to watch his favourite movie.

Aaron and Emily exchange a look over the top of their son’s head and they both suppress a laugh.

They were all going to be fine.

#Hotchniss #hotchniss fic #hotchniss fanfic #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #WTB Universe #ITSWM #David Rossi being a busy body #The OG hotchniss shipper #mini fic

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leejungchans · 3 years

Text

— double j’s.

juliet’s masterlist

summary: the full version of jisung and juliet’s 120-second interview from episode 7 of kingdom!!

a/n: i was trying so hard to compact this interview for the last kingdom update bc i didn’t want it to be too long 😭 but after writing that snippet i knew i had to do the full version immediately so i hope you guys like this 💗

Juliet grins as she watches Changbin and Minhyuk take a selfie after their interview, thoroughly enjoying the dynamics between all three groups of Mayfly.

“Okay, that’s a wrap! Thank you!” the director says to the two rappers. Changbin and Minhyuk return the exclamations of gratitude, bowing to the crew in front of them before moving off-screen to where the others are sitting.

“Han-ssi and Juliet-ssi, it’s your turn!”

Hongjoong pats her on the shoulder in encouragement as she moves to take Changbin’s seat, Jisung sitting opposite her and giving her a bright smile through the plastic divider between them.

Behind the main camera, the director gives them the cue that the cameras are rolling, and they hear the beep! of the timer, signalling that their 120 seconds start now.

Yet, neither of them speak in favour of continuing to stare at each other with awkward grins. Succumbing to her nervousness, Juliet becomes the first one to break eye contact a few seconds later, lowering her head as she bursts into giggles.

“Why? Why are you laughing?” Jisung whines, “and right after you looked at my face too!”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I promise!” she says between small gaps of air. “I just didn’t expect us to be so nervous.”

Jisung hums in acknowledgement. “Ah, I get shy around new people, more than what people would expect,” he explains, “so that’s kinda why I’m a bit awkward right now.”

“I’m like that too, but I thought we became closer friends during the sports day filming! I’m hurt!” she jokes, placing a hand over her heart dramatically.

“No, no, no!” Jisung defends, waving his hands frantically, “we did! I’m still shy, I guess.”

“Not shy, not me!” She doesn’t know where the idea of singing ITZY’s popular song came from, completed with doing the hand movement from the iconic choreography, but hey—her brain works in mysterious ways.

Juliet thought there would be some form of reaction from Jisung, perhaps he’d even join in. Instead, he remains silent from bewilderment, not expecting the sudden mention of his label-mates. He blinks at her owlishly before a loud pft sound emits from both of them, and they dissolve into giggles once more.

“Okay, okay,” Juliet says, sobering up a little after a few seconds. “We need to do this seriously. No more being awkward! Awkward is just a mindset.”

“Woah, you’re right! We won’t feel awkward if we just tell ourselves that we’re being cool.”

She nods like an approving teacher. “Exactly. We are cool.”

“Okay then, let’s go!” Jisung shouts enthusiastically, earning muffled snickers from the other members who are sitting off-screen.

Juliet bites the inside of her cheek to stifle the laughter that’s threatening to bubble up, but her efforts are futile as they both fall off their stools and collapse to the ground in a fit of squeaky giggles.

“I’m sorry, I-I don’t think we can do this,” Juliet wheezes to the cameras, clutching her stomach while tears gather in the corners of her eyes. Beside her on the floor, Jisung isn’t faring any better as he attempts to catch his breath.

Off-screen, Changbin playfully complains, “Yah! What are you two doing? You only have 120 seconds to do this!” His words help Juliet and Jisung sober up, and they scramble back onto their seats to continue what’s left of their interview.

“Okay, okay,” she says, dabbing at her eyes with her fingertips, “ask me a question!”

“Who’s your favourite Stray Kids member?”

“Felix,” Juliet answers with zero hesitation.

He sighs dramatically. “I mean... we all knew that, but I thought maybe you’d say it’s me since I’m literally sitting right here and all that.”

She relents with an apologetic smile. “Okay, then you are my favourite member in Stray Kids.”

“Forget it! You’re too late, I know how you really feel now!” Jisung sulks. “Your turn.”

“Hm... how are you so good at everything?”

“Yah! So are you! You should be asking yourself that!” Juliet grins shyly at the compliment and waves him off. “Anyways, next question... what do you do when you don’t have any schedules?”

The director cuts in before she can respond. “Time’s up! But you can answer the question, Juliet-ssi. We’ll include it as a bonus part.”

“Honestly, I sleep a lot, watch a lot of YouTube... and then go back to sleeping,” she admits sheepishly.

Jisung’s eyes widen. “Yo! Same!”

“Really?”

He nods vigorously, raising a hand above the plastic divider to give her a high-five, which she returns instantly. “We have a lot in common, woah!”

“We should have our own unit,” Juliet tells him after they take their selfie. “Maybe the name can be Double J’s or something.”

“Hm... the name needs work. But it’s a definite yes to the unit.”

a/n: i present to you juliet’s newest bestie in skz!! (felix who? 😔 ahhshwjs kidding she could never)

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gifted-burnout-archive · 4 years

Text

The Other Side of Hollywood

Part Seven

Word Count: 5.2K+

Author’s Note: I KNOW THE GIF IS FROM EPISODE ONE BUT I WANTED TO USE IT EARLIER AND FORGOT SO HAVE IT NOW INSTEAD!!! And I couldn’t find the time to make my own gif of Luke in that suit today so you’ll get it tomorrow with the finale. Also, I am genuinely concerned for Willie in the real show so I did us all a favour and changed a thing or two.

Warning: threatening language, more jolts, sad stuff.

Linkaroonies - One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Masterlist and Y/N Moodboard.

The plan wasn’t exactly simple… But desperate times call for desperate measures, and the band really had no other choice.

After Julie’s rousing speech the night before, planning quickly began: what the boys had been struggling over for a week was quickly solved when they were reminded by Julie of their number one strength. Being ghosts. And after Willie stopped by to check in and promised to get rid of the opening act for Panic! At The Disco overnight, and after he assured them no-one would be hurt, maimed, or made into a ghost themselves in the process, he vanished and promised to report back by morning.

It’s how Alex, Reggie and Luke found themselves standing outside the Orpheum the next day, impatient in their wait for Willie’s return while Julie paced her way around the studio at home.

“Look, don’t worry guys, Willie said he’d get us on that marquee.” Alex assured, his eyes travelling up to the neon blue sign.

“This gonna work, right?” Reggie asked, glancing over at his bandmates, his brothers, with a look of worry. They were riding on Willie’s help, and after he disappeared last night, all that was left for them to do was plan a show that might not happen.

“It has too.” Luke said with a sigh, before all three of them were suddenly hit with another jolt. It sent them doubling over, the pain getting more intense and more frequent the closer they seemed to come to the week’s end – they were on a deadline.

“Hey, you guys ok?” A voice asked behind them, Willie appearing out of the thin air, quickly looking around himself as if someone was missing. He seemed confused, but quickly looked back to the three guys in front of him.

“Yeah.” Alex answered after the trio shared a glance. “Yeah, it’s nothing we haven’t felt before… How’d it go?” He asked, and Willie smiled.

“Well, when that opening band wakes up, they’re gonna find their bus 200 miles outside of Vegas with no chance of getting back in time.” Willie turned to show the jacket he had nabbed from the band that was meant to be supporting P!ATD that night, turning back around and receiving a fist bump from Luke. Another whoosh sounded from behind Willie, Luke’s smile immediately fading away while Alex and Reggie looked surprised.

“You know, that means there’s probably a promoter upstairs right about now freaking out.” Y/N smiled, Willie looking at her with a proud expression. “Hey Reggie.” She said with a wave of her fingers, the boy waving back. “Alex.” She nodded. “… Denim. Like the fleece.” She complimented, earning a snicker from Alex, who quickly stopped with a glance at Luke…

He had never seen him look so angry.

“What is she doing here?” Luke asked Willie, only to be interrupted by a jangle of keys, the item finally through the air and forcing Luke to instinctively catch them. A set of keys, and by the stickers and keyring, it seemed like they were the keys for the tour bus currently stuck in the middle of the desert.

“I told you last night I wanted to help… And Willie can’t drive. Not as well as I can anyway.” She explained herself quickly, and it became clear why Willie was so pleased: Y/N seemed to have switched sides.

“Thanks, Y/N…” Reggie said after a moment, earning a scowl from Luke. “What? She helped!” He defended himself, and Y/N just smiled at the bassist.

“It’s alright Reg.” She promised. “I wouldn’t be forgiving me either…” Y/N’s eyes fell to the ground, her shoes scuffing against the sidewalk. “The things you’ll do for family, right?” She muttered, loud enough for only Luke to really hear. It left him confused for a moment, not quite sure what she meant, and the silence that followed was quickly broken by Willie.

“You, know, I might have to disagree, Y/N. From what I’ve seen, Hollywood promoters are super chill in the face of… Problems.” Willie said with a chuckle, and Y/N smiled softly, bringing up a hand and messing with his hair.

“Good luck tonight, guys… I mean that.” She said with a final glance at the boys before her, all looking a little more hopeful than the night before, before disappearing into the air. Alex took a few steps forward to Willie once the air had settled again, pulling him aside from Reggie and Luke, who quickly caught on and backed away a little.

“I know…” Alex paused, taking a breath, clasping and unclasping his hands. “How much you’re risking…” His eyes finally met Willie’s, who was smiling bright and sweet. “Thank you, Willie.”

“I told you, I’d do anything for you.” Willie responded with a shrug, meaning the words he spoke. Alex hesitated for a moment, almost tempted to end it there, but his heart got the better of him, pulling Willie into a tight hug.

They held onto each other for a moment, Alex knowing that if something went wrong, it might just be the last time he got to see the skater. Willie was quick to hug back, his head going into the crook of Alex’s neck, his eyes closing as he breathed in, trying to retain Alex’s faint smell of dust and old cologne.

“Right…” Alex pulled away first, patting Willie’s shoulder before taking a step back, clearing his throat. “You uh… You’d better get out of here before Caleb catches you with us.”

“Yeah…” Willie nodded, a poof of air landing his skateboard in his hands. “I’ll see you around, hot dog.” He smiled, and Alex smiled back for a moment: it’s the first time Willie had used the nickname since the club, since all this chaos began.

Willie dropped his board to the ground, Alex watching him skate away as his friends came back to his side, Reggie placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Alex, you all right, man?” He asked, genuinely concerned, but Alex shrugged him off and nodded, turning to face his bandmates with a small smile, sad in nature.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m ok.”

“Well…” Luke started. “Thanks to Willie, Panic! At The Disco needs an opening band.” The attention was brought back to the job at hand, Luke ignoring Reggie’s addition of “And Y/N…”.

“Then I guess someone up there needs to know we’re available.” Alex smiled, his friends smiling right back as they poofed away in unison, only to land two storeys above in an office, where a very angry man was shouting down a phone.

“Stop… Stop saying the bus drove itself!” The man yelled, banging the phone against the desk in the hope to release some of his frustration, while his assistant watched on with a sigh.

“Yeah, Willie was right… This guy’s a total pro.” Reggie whispered, the sarcasm clear, and earning a chuckle from a decreasingly less grumpy Luke.

“All right, boys. Let the magic happen.” Luke announced, before feigning a stern expression. “Alex, no dancing!” He commanded, prompting the blond boy to jump and raise his arms like a ballerina.

Alex danced his way over to the far side of the assistant’s desk with poise and grace that left both Reggie and Luke near tears from laughter as they followed him. With a twirl a flick of his wrist, Alex knocked a pencil holder to the floor, and in a mad rush of Alex writing and Luke directing Reggie in finding their YouTube video from the week before, the boys stepped back as the assistant lifted herself and the fallen object back to the desk.

She was surprised to find a video playing on her screen when she sat back up, and quickly scrolled down to see who exactly this band were, even more surprised by their amazing sound.

“Tasha!” Her boss called to the assistant, who glanced up from her laptop. “Get me CJ. Tell him I need a band to open in 3 hours.” He demanded, and she grinned.

“Sure, but you might want to check this out.” Tasha sat back, continuing to watch the video as her boss hurried over, and Alex couldn’t help but chuckle as the boys watched the scene unfold before them. “Somehow this video started playing on my laptop. It’s got 4 million hits in just a week.”

“Who are they?” He asked, shocked, and Tasha scrolled down the page.

“They’re a hologram band. They call themselves Julie and the Phantoms.” She read out.

“Tell your friends.” Reggie instinctively replied.

“Where are they located?” He asked quickly, and she smiled even wider.

“Our very own City of Angels.”

“Then book ‘em!” Her boss demanded, the boys sharing a cheer.

“Sure, I just don’t know how to…” Tasha trailed off, her eyes falling onto a post-it note, right there on her desk, bearing a number alongside the band’s name.

“Your handwriting is better than mine…” Luke mumbled, earning a pat on the back and nod from Alex before the three vanished, headed home to find Julie and tell her the good news.

“Oh my God!” Was the first thing they head when they landed, Julie having spent most her day pacing the studio: by the looks of it, she had worn down the carpet. “What took you guys so long?! Did Willie do it? Did you talk to them? Did they watch? Did they like us? Are we playing tonight? Can someone answer me? Why’s no-one talking-”

“Whoa, that’s a lot of questions!” Reggie interrupted, allowing Julie a chance to catch her breath. “Luke, you wanna take this one?” He suggested, and Luke turned to face Julie with a smile.

“Take a seat.” He instructed, and Julie’s sat back on the couch she had been too anxious to stay on earlier, while the boys found themselves kneeling on the other side of the table. Atop it, sat Julie’s phone. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine.” Luke said with a smile.

“Yeah. Willie and Y/N took care of the other band, and we saw them watch the video.” Julie smiled a little at the mention of Y/N’s name, glad the ghost-girl she had become so close to over the last week was on their side. “You should be getting a call right… Now!” Alex explained, pointing to the phone and everyone leaned forward. When the screen stayed blank, he cleared his throat and tried again. “Right… Now!” He pointed a second time, this time the action followed by the screen lighting up with an unknown number, the boys high-fiving. “Nailed it…”

“The phone!” The boys quickly realised Julie was yet to answer after a moment had passed, and she quickly grabbed her mobile, the room going silent as she answered.

“Hello?” She said softly, the tension thick in the air as they waited.

“Hi, this is Tasha from the Orpheum…”

Y/N had always been Willie’s best friend. If anything, she was more like his over-protective younger sister. From the moment he arrived at the club, she was watching out for him, keeping him safe, and she intended to keep doing that, whatever the cost. Even if it led to her handing over the boy she liked on a silver platter with his bandmates to Caleb. Even if it meant spending eternity being hated by the people she wanted most to like her, Willie included.

Because, when all is said and done, Y/N would do anything to protect her family.

“Why so blue, sunset?” Caleb asked as he walked into the club to find her keeping up with her daily chores: scrubbing away at the floor until Caleb could see his reflection on the wood. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the big dance number tonight?”

“I don’t want to perform anymore. Not for you.” Y/N muttered, getting up from the floor to sort herself out with some fresh water, a hand coming to her shoulder. “You know, the only time I’ve ever enjoyed anything to do with music was when I sang with Luke? With the band you want so badly to tear away from Julie. My friend?”

“They aren’t your friends, Y/N… I’m your friend.” Caleb corrected, gesturing for Y/N to set down the bucket and sit, which she did without hesitation. “I’m also the friend who owns your soul, owns your best friend’s soul.” He reminded, and Y/N sighed. “So, you do what I say. I say I want you on my stage tonight, that’s where you’ll be. Got it?” He snapped, and Y/N quickly nodded. “Good. Now, what have they been up to since we last spoke?”

“They’ve figured out their unfinished business… They plan to finish it tonight.” She reported back, and Caleb froze. “You’re too late.”

“The lifer’s address. Give it to me.” Caleb demanded, and Y/N stood up, taking steps towards backstage, only to be hit by a jolt that sent her to her knees.

“Caleb please… Please just let this go, let Willie go. Reconsider.” She begged, coughing through her words to try and lessen the pain in her chest.

“I OWN YOU!” Caleb yelled. “You do what I say! Now,” He snapped his fingers, changing from a suit into a tuxedo and top hat combo. “Tell me where they are.” With a roll of his hand, he offered Y/N a pen and paper.

As she wrote down Julie’s address, Y/N could only hope that the boys were already at the Orpheum, already with Julie and ready to play again. He smiled as she scrawled the address down, snatching the paper back and closing his eyes as he disappeared, leaving Y/N to recover, to change…

To get ready for another show.

“Julie and I were thinking we start with Stand Tall.” Luke suggested, he, Alex and Reggie gathered around the grand piano in the studio, deciding the final order of the songs. He looked up to find both his bandmates rather out of it, and frowned.

“Perfect.” Alex said with a quick nod.

“Sounds good.” Reggie added with a sigh.

“Sounds good?” Luke asked, looking between the two like he was missing something. “Dude wake up! I wanna hear ‘it sounds awesome’!” Luke said with vigour, trying to pump up his friends, before letting his shoulders drop. “I know this isn’t how we wanted things to turn out, but we gotta be all in tonight.” He reminded them. “This is our second chance at playing the Orpheum!”

“I… I get it, I get it, but it’s hard.” Reggie said in a soft voice, melancholic and sincere. “Do we even know what’s on the other side when we cross over? Do we all still get to hang together? You…” Reggie paused, his shoulders slumping. “You guys are the only family I have.”

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t know what’s going to happen either, but… It’s not like we have a choice.” Alex said softly, reaching to place a hand on Reggie’s shoulder when another jolt hit the three, sending them doubling over.

It was worse this time, a lot worse, the pain no longer in their side but the centre of their chest, almost like the jolts had been travelling this whole time towards their hearts. Each was having to find support from the piano to simply stand up at all, and as the pain started to fade from their chests, it relocated to their wrists where the stamps marked their skin.

“I’m pretty sure we do… And it rhymes with the Hollywood Ghost Club.” Reggie said with malice in his voice as he rubbed his wrist, his friends sharing the same thought as the garage doors opened, Julie walking in and pausing at the unhappy looks on her friends’ faces.

“Are you ready?” She asked before fully registering the situation, her smile quickly dropping. “What’s wrong?” She asked, holding on tighter to her dress, stored neatly in a clothing bag. The boys did their best to hide the level of pain they were in, Alex brushing it off with a light chuckle and smile.

“Yeah. We just got rocked pretty hard by one of those jolt things.” He explained with a shrug, leading the walk over to their friend, their bandmate, their leading lady.

“Pretty sure I ghost peed a little.” Reggie added with a forlorn look, Alex glancing over and rolling his eyes at the comment.

“We’re fine though.” Luke smiled. “How are you doing?” He asked, noticing the way his friend wringed her hands round the coat hanger.

“I’m a little nervous actually.” She admitted with a slight laugh. She was, after all, about to play the Orpheum, one of the most well-known stages in LA. She hung the dress on the door quickly, rubbing her hands against the denim of her jeans.

“Julie, you’ll be amazing, as always.” Reggie reminded, receiving nods of agreement from the other guys, easing Julie’s nerves slightly.

“Can… Can I ask a favour?” She said softly, looking at the three idiots who had become part of her family, who had become her home.

“Anything, Julie. You know that.” Luke smiled, and Julie nodded, looking down at her toes and taking a breath.

“When you guys cross over, if…” Julie swallowed, and Alex took a step closer in concern. “If any of you happen to see my mom, can you tell her I love her… and thank her for bringing you to me?” She asked softly, sad smiles being shared between the four: it was a request the boys most definitely hoped to keep for her.

“We will.” Alex said softly, on behalf of the three of them, and Luke cleared his throat.

“Guys, band circle.” He ordered, the four coming together and joining hands where possible. “We don’t know what brought us here, but what we do know is… You’re a star, Julie.” Luke smiled at her, a feeling of pride swelling in him the boys no doubt shared: she was their Julie, and the last months had changed them all. “And just because this is our last night together, it doesn’t mean we won’t be watching you from above… or…” Luke glanced down at the floor with a light chuckle, earning scoffs from his bandmates. “Now let’s go rock this show, and give them a night they’ll be talking about until the sun comes up.” He jumped a little with the words, and more laughs were shared. “Legends on three.” Luke said finally, putting his hand into the circle’s centre.

“One.” Alex responded immediately, his hand landing on top of Luke’s.

“Two.” Reggie followed with a dopey smile and a shrug.

“… Three.” Julie finished, all four raising their hands with a cry of ‘Legends!’, quickly followed by Julie’s dad Ray beeping his horn. “That’ll be my dad. He’s driving me there, so I’ll see you guys soon.” She smiled at the three of them, grabbing her dress and jogging out the door and down the driveway to where her dad waited.

The guys watched the leave before drifting around the room, taking it all in for one last time. While Reggie and Alex got lost in their own dazes, Luke’s eyes travelled to the couch, his mind replaying the sound of Y/N’s voice when she sang with them the week before. The feelings of her head on his thigh, the way her laugh vibrated through her body into his, the way their hands felt interlocked.

“Take it in boys, it’s the last time we’ll see this place.” Luke said under his breath, but Reggie and Alex heard him. They were thinking the same thing.

“And where is it that you think you’re going?” The voice came first, followed by a flash and Caleb, who lounged on the grand piano before the boys in a top hat and tuxedo. He seemed to radiate evil now that they knew what and who Caleb really was, so obviously they felt stupid for not realising before.

“What are you doing here?” Luke asked in a growl, stepping in front of Reggie and Alex, ready to take on the first round with the man who was trying to enslave them for the rest of time.

“Such hostility!” Caleb said with a tut and a gasp, shaking his head. “I’m just here to congratulate you on your big night.” He let out a chuckle. “Not everyone gets to play the Orpheum!”

“No. Ok, we know that it’s your stamp that’s hurting us.” Luke informed as he pulled his sleeve up to show the stamp, the branding, on his wrist. “We already told you, we have a band. We don’t want to join your little club.”

“Yeah, and you can’t make us either…” Alex built up the courage to back up Luke, but after a glance and raised eyebrow from Caleb, he cleared his throat. “Sir.”

“Right! You’re crossing over tonight. So exciting!” Caleb whispered, the dramatic facial expressions just emphasising his sarcasm. “Funny thing about the cross over, no-one really knows what’s waiting on the other side.” He told them with a wave of the hand and an evil smirk, tapping the brim on his hap. “But I know what’s happening on this side.” With a pressing of his hand to his mouth, Caleb blew a kiss and sent the boys spiralling…

Only to land straight up somewhere unfortunately familiar, dressed in new clothes and armed with their instruments. It wasn’t the first thing Luke noticed as he landed though, no… What came first was the noise.

“You told me you would help them, Y/N!” It was Willie’s voice shouting, which surprised Luke most considering that he had never met someone so friendly, so chilled out. As his eyes focused, his view of the pair became clearer, Y/N stood before them in a stunning deep green dress, a single tear trailing down her cheek as Willie yelled. “You lied, and you lied again! How could you do this to them, to me?!”

“I didn’t have another option Will…” Her voice wobbled; her eyes red as she did her best not to sob. Y/N looked broken, reaching out for a pacing Willie but never quite getting to hold him. “I picked the lesser of two-”

“What did you get in return, huh? The penthouse suite?! Control over the work rota?!” Willie asked. “What did he give you this time to do his dirty work, Y/N?” Willie asked, his head turning and stopping dead as he spotted the three boys, stumbling back and hitting the floor. “No, no…”

“Well, don’t they look nice?” Caleb’s voice led five pairs of eyes to his descending the staircase, now dressed in a purple sequin tail coat, filing his nails as the boys looked over themselves, the tuxedos they had been put into.

“Sweet threads..” Reggie managed, earning a smile from Caleb.

“How… How’d you know our size?” Alex asked, glancing over, and seeing Willie for the first time, his heart breaking at the sight of him.

“That’s your question?” Luke snapped, though Alex was now preoccupied, and his eyes fell on Caleb with a glare, before passing over to Y/N. She looked beautiful in spite of her tear stained cheeks and paler than normal complexion. He hadn’t noticed it earlier that day, nor the night before: but she did look sick.

“I know you boys aren’t my biggest fans.” Caleb said with a tut and a sigh, gesturing as he spoke. “And an eternity at my club might seem overwhelming. But… I just put you in sweet threads, so humour me this one last pitch.” He handed off the nail file, taking a few steps back and taking both Willie and Y/N by the arms, bringing them both to his sides. “Now, first off, isn’t it nice that you’re all here together? And believe me, thanks to Y/N, everything you want, including Willie,” He nodded to Alex, “Including Y/N,” His gaze settled back on Luke, giving the two uncomfortable teens at his side a squeeze. “It’s here. And on my stage, you don’t vanish when the music stops. You soak in the applause for as long as you want. The connection that you will feel with that audience,” Caleb dropped his hands from Y/N and Willie, walking forward and straightening Luke’s bow tie. “It will be like no other.” He smiled a little. “I promise.”

“I’m so sorry-”Y/N began to apologise, this time her gaze directed towards Luke, but Caleb shushed her.

“Do you hear that? They’re waiting for you.” Caleb stated as cheers began from out in the audience, viewers ready for a show. The boys were suddenly hit by another jolt, curling up at the pain, only to hear a female whimper, and a thud, eyes following Y/N as she slumped down to the ground. “That one looked like it hurt.” Caleb said with a shrug, walking back towards the stage. “Now, let me remind you, you don’t know if playing the Orpheum is your unfinished business. Do you really have time to make that mistake? I suggest you accept my offer because the clock is ticking.” Caleb lifted a glass of champagne and took a sip as another jolt ran through the boys, this time they witnessed it run through Y/N as well. “You know where to find me.”

As Caleb’s music started up in the background, Willie helped pull Y/N to her feet despite his anger, the girl gripping onto his arm and pulling up the sleeve.

“Y/N, what are you-” Willie asked, trying to pull away when he saw his stamp begin to glow, and like magic lift off of his arm. The boys watched on in amazement, Willie’s stamp shattering in the air into nothing, leaving the skin on Willie’s wrist clear.

“You were working for him all along…” Luke muttered, and Y/N looked up, holding tight to Willie.

“He gave me an offer… Either you three died and Willie was destroyed along with you… Or you all lived, with the bonus of Willie… Winning back his soul.” Y/N explained, suddenly feeling dizzy.

“The things we do for family…” Luke muttered, finally understanding what she had said before.

“I’m so sorry I did this…” Y/N groaned and held a hand to her head, sitting herself down on the floor as the words of Caleb’s song floated around her head, as she watched Alex begin to twirl a drumstick between his fingers and Reggie bounce to the track’s beat. “Willie you need to leave… Go somewhere safe.”

“The studio…” Alex suggested absentmindedly, before he disappeared in to a puff of smoke, only to reappear on the stage by the drum kit.

“You’ll be safe there…” Y/N promised, and with a final glance back at the stage, Willie left the Hollywood Ghost Club a free man for the first time ever.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Luke asked, Reggie disappearing from his side as he knelt down to see to the girl clutching her head. Reggie’s infamous bass lines began to resonate around the room, and Luke felt his fingers itching to play, felt his body dying to be on the stage.

His heart wanted to stay, with Y/N…

“Now Luke.” Caleb called from the stage, Luke’s hands working with a mind of their own as they began to play, his legs pulling him from Y/N’s body as the temptation took over.

The moment Luke’s feet crossed over the threshold of side lines to stage, a cosmic shift occurred with the completion of Y/N’s deal. To the sound of guitar riffs and drum beats, Y/N’s mind was filled with memories of a life she never knew, of a life Caleb stole from her…

Of a life Caleb took away.

The boys hadn’t arrived… They didn’t get to cross over. The jolts got them first.

The fears circled through Julie’s brain as she ran from Flynn and Rob, the tech manager, fleeing out the Orpheum’s side door onto the alleyway. As she broke through the doorway, her feet came to a slow stop, recovering from the run. Julie looked to her left, her right, and finally to the sky as the cold night air set in, traffic passing by on the main road, the blue glow of the Orpheum’s catching on driving cars. And, like that, Julie just felt angry. Like the world had turned its back on her and stolen the people she loved over and over again.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, Mom, but…” Julie started, cut off for a moment by a soft sob. “I can’t handle it.” She admitted to air. “You know, Flynn says you’re supposed to be behind everything, but I don’t know… If I was supposed to help the guys, I didn’t.” Another sob racked her body, and Julie tilted her head back. “They’re gone and I’m so sorry… They were my friends, my band… My family.” She sniffed at the thought, wiping her tears away with her hands. “Why can’t you just come pick me up and… and hold me in your arms and just tell me that everything’s gonna be ok and that I’m gonna get through it?” Her voice cracked at the thought, and Julie took a shaky breath. “And tell me that even though they’re not here with me, they’re still up there with you. I just… I just wish you were here.” Julia sighed, her head dropping down as she finished, a passer-by stopping by her side.

She looked the poor girl over, dressed like a popstar in a back alley, crying to someone who was no longer there, and felt the deepest movement of sympathy within her. Without thinking much of it, she held out one of her newly bought dahlias to the young girl, who accepted it with surprise, and made her way home.

Julie looked at the flower, the sign she had been waiting for, and turned towards the side entrance of the Orpheum, her glance triggering a gust of wind to throw the doors open and send a picture from a pinboard by the entrance off of its pin, floating down to the ground. Picking the photo up from the floor, Julie felt even warmer inside, immediately noticing the face in the centre of the picture. Even twenty five years younger, her mother had the same smile and hair and eyes, she threw her head back to laugh in the same way.

That’s what the photo was: her mom in that same jacket Julie wore that night, holding tightly to her friends as they posed for the photo. Her mom wasn’t centre though, instead it was a girl in a birthday hat, her smile bright as he held a hand to her chest and another over the third friend’s shoulder.

“Rosalee…”

Julie, with her dahlia in one hand and the photo in the other, marched back down the stairs and back to stage side where Flynn and Rob were trying to co-ordinate and get Brendon Urie on stage. Instead, Julie stopped for a moment by Flynn’s side, a smile on her face as she brandished the flower like a sword and pressed the photo to Flynn’s chest.

“Signs.” She said simply, walking on stage without hesitation, which prompted Flynn to look down at what she had been handed by her best friend.

A photo of Julie’s mom, about twenty something years younger, beside the girl Flynn had seen flickering at the party as she sang with the band.

A photo of Rose and Y/N… From 1995.

Part Eight (The End) is here...

Tags: @im-a-writer-right @elioelioeli0 @jenjen889 @walkingonshunshine @parkeret @lolychu @leahstypewriter @j-mar-memester @sunsetcurve-h @musicconversedance @gracefulpenguin @shae-is-not-ok @talksoprettyjjx @smol-book-nerd @lord-of-the-fried @siennanoelle01 @deadpoolgirl23 @theatricalfangirl @deepsleepnat @hhyunj1n @lovesanimals @oswin05 @ifilwtmfc @crappy-unicorn @eries45 @noncannonships @tenaciousperfectionunknown @theorangestofjuices @oopsiedoopsie23 @elephants-bubbles-brachosauruses @aesthetic-lyss @voguesir @michellebarista @caitsymichelle13 @bellero

#luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson x y/n #jatp luke x reader #jatp luke #jatp #julie and the phantoms #fanfiction #fanfic #jatp au #reader insert #the other side of hollywood #luke patterson fluff #fluff #fantom

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handy-dandy-monster-candy · 3 years

Text

Wade, part Four

Rating: NSFW Length: 2146 Pairing: Male Fishman/Gillman x GN Reader

The finale for the story written for @momolady

xxx

The next few weeks are pure pandemonium as nonhuman beings come out in full force in support of the gillfolk republics. Ancient entities crawl out of the forests and seas, werewolves and vampires and other creatures make their presence known, with the full support and protection of a healthy and growing population of human former hunters who have been operating their support networks for generations.

The transition is rocky at best, with many human politicians calling for their eradication while others make it clear that attempting to do so would be a terrible mistake—not just for humanity, but for the world at large. Many of these beings are magical in nature, and while humanity is not threatened in so many words, it is weightily implied that the wilful culling of the nonhuman population would have a great many varied and equally devastating consequences.

You don’t see Wade for the majority of your vacation as he recovers beneath the waves. Instead, you’re interviewed (and interrogated) by just about every news outlet and television network, along with many other humans who step forward to give their positive testimonials about their experiences with other nonhumans. It doesn’t go as smoothly as you hope. You wake to eggs on your house and your parents’ car windows broken, and more than once you’re called the first of many inventive slurs when you’re recognised in public. You get many nasty phone calls and you get harassed on the street, until your parents express a desire to move away from the coast for your protection.

You’ve just hung up on the third such caller of the day when your cell phone rings again, and you can’t help but heave a sigh before you swipe the green ‘accept’ button on your screen. “I don’t fuck fish,” is the first thing that springs out of your mouth, followed closely by, “they’re gillfolk.”

“Duly noted,” says a familiar voice from the other end of the line, and you fling your mercifully plastic cup clean off the dining table you’re sitting at with the way you spasm in place.

“Wade!”

“Hey, you,” Wade says around a laugh, but it doesn’t linger in his voice for long. “Where are you? We need to talk.”

Shit. “I’m at home,” you say. “I can be there in fifteen minutes.”

“The usual place?”

“The usual place.” You can hardly get the words out before the line goes dead. You take your pepper spray and pocket knife just in case things get hairy before you can make it to the coast, but thankfully your hurried pedaling is uninterrupted and you make it to the beach in record time. You’re still catching your breath by the time you get to the cove, and you almost twist your ankle in your haste to get down to the sand where Wade is waiting, out of sight.

“That was quick,” he mutters as you approach, and you huff as you rest your bike against the rocks. You can’t help but look him over, focusing on the spot where you had last seen a goddamn harpoon sticking out of his side. There’s nothing but puckered white flesh there now, though his scales have yet to regrow over the scar. Still, you can’t help but frown.

“Are you sure you should be up and about? You were run through just a few weeks ago.”

“I’m fine,” says Wade, watching you unblinkingly. “Why? Don’t want me around?”

Your frown turns into a scowl. “I didn’t say that.”

“You left because of me.”

“I left because of me,” you reply, putting such force into the word that you shake with it. “I left because I love you and I couldn’t bear to be a creep and ruin it between us. I left because—”

“You’re damn stupid,” Wade cuts in, closing the distance between you and pressing his lips so hard against yours that it almost hurts. You reel back from the shock and he drags you back in, kissing you over and again until you’re whimpering for mercy against his mouth. “Idiot,” he whispers when he breaks the kiss, cupping your face between his soft, warm hands. “Fucking moron.”

“Keep being romantic. It’s working,” you snort, sniffling when you realise that you’ve started to cry. “So you—?”

“Yes.”

“And I—”

“Left me,” Wade all but gasps, words leaving him as though excised from his throat. “Don’t ever do that again. You can’t do that to me. You can’t.”

“I won’t,” you promise, stroking along the frills between his head fins with your fingertips. “I’ll transfer schools. I’ll—“

“Marry me.”

You choke on your own spit. Wade frets and tuts and pats at your back, though he grins his amusement with his needle sharp teeth when you look up at him like a deer in the headlights. “You’re serious.”

“Deadly.”

“We’re not even dating.”

“I think we just skipped to the good part, what with the kissing and all.”

“You said we needed to talk!”

“We did. I recall the conclusion to that talk being that you were a jackass.”

“You called me an idiot, not a jackass.”

“Semantics. The point is, some things need not be spoken to be understood.”

“That’s not how any of this works.”

“It works however we make it work. I think that’s the point of a relationship: you have to work at it to make it any good.”

“I’m not discussing the philosophy of this with you, Wade.”

“Spoilsport. You said you loved me.”

“Don’t use that against—”

“I’m not. I love you, too.”

You come up short. “You do?”

“I do,” murmurs Wade, shy in a way that you have never seen before. “I have for a very long time.”

“Since when?” you ask, and you can’t help but smile when Wade wraps his arms around your waist as though he’s always done so.

“Since you first let me take you diving,” he says, spreading his fingers and letting them wander up and down your back.

“That long? I had braces then!”

“You weren’t any less beautiful.” His eyes crease with mischief, and you know you’re going to be prickled like a child poking a bear. “I kind of miss them, actually. They were shiny.”

“Are you a gillman or a magpie?” you snort, though you can feel your face growing hot.

Wade only grins. “Your turn,” he says. “When did you know you loved me?”

You huff, having to look away from his self-satisfied expression. “During one of your business trips in sophomore year. I was so gross, writing you sappy text messages and never sending them.”

“That’s years after I fell in love with you,” says Wade, and you can hear his pout in his voice. “Was I that obnoxious?”

“Yes.”

“And you still love me?”

“Yes. Gods help me, I do.”

Wade laughs and kisses you again, gently this time, pressing his lips to yours in several soft smooches and pecks. You can’t help but sigh and coo at his attentions, melting against him and sighing when his tongue slips past your lips. You don’t dare return the favour, with all his sharp, pointed teeth, but he kisses you so thoroughly that it doesn’t matter, until it suddenly does. “Have you done this before?” you ask, and know the answer immediately when Wade ducks his head with guilt.

“A few times.”

“Wade.”

“A few dozen,” he corrects, wincing when you jab a finger in his uninjured side. “But never further. I wanted my first mating to be with you. Though that doesn’t mean I haven’t used my hand for relief whenever I thought about y—”

“Wade!” you squawk, elbowing him in the ribs.

He coughs and laughs, rubbing his side and grinning down at you. When had he gotten so tall and broad? You’re lamenting your own lack of muscle when Wade scoops you up into his arms, ignoring your various noises of shock and embarrassment as he carries you to a more secluded part of the cove. You can feel your face flaming when you realise that he’s aiming for privacy, but when he leans in to kiss you after setting your back against rocks worn smooth by waves, you wrap your arms around his neck to keep him close.

Wade makes quick work of the clothing you wear below the waist, and you briefly wonder where he’d gotten practice with that before your thoughts disappear in the wake of his fingers teasing you. He’s careful with his claws so that he doesn’t hurt you, but that just makes every twist of his wrist all the more maddening, until you’re squirming and writhing against the rocks with Wade standing between your legs.

“I knew you’d like that,” he whispers, almost a purr, and you have to fight the urge to swat him or hide.

“Shut up,” you beg, breathless and moaning as Wade teases you to dripping.

“No,” Wade cheekily replies, taking his hand from you to bring up between you both. You’re mortified to see strings of your fluids clinging to his fingers, and even further embarrassed to watch him slip his tongue out to lick them clean, bright pink eyes burning into yours.

“I’m gonna die,” you say, covering your burning face with your hands for some relief.

“You’re going to come close to it by the time I’m done with you,” Wade rumbles, kneeling in the sand and lifting you up so that both of your legs hook over his broad shoulders.

“Wade!” you meep, but he only chuckles, tongue snaking out of his mouth to tease your most sensitive places. You squeak when he finds your entrance and Wade splutters against you, earning himself a soft smack to the top of his head. “Don’t laugh during this!”

“I can’t help that you’re cute,” Wade protests, burying his face against the insides of your thighs and returning to his task with renewed enthusiasm. You whimper and mewl as he works you open, squirming on his tongue and shivering as his dangerous teeth brush tenderly against your skin. You almost choke when he draws away a sizzling eternity later, apparently satisfied with his work.

“Wade…”

“My pearl,” he murmurs, and you find yourself held aloft in his powerful grasp when he stands, thighs hooked over his muscular forearms. Between you is his prick, deep blue at the base and a vivid purple at the tip, with bumps and ribs that grind against you and make you shiver from head to curling toe. “I’ll make you weep for me around this cock.”

“Don’t say that,” you manage to whimper, feeling his slippery pre-cum slick up your entrance before he starts to push in. “Wade!”

“Say my name,” he rumbles back, voice straining at the edges. “Say my name forever, you precious, precious thing.”

“Stop talking,” you whine, embarrassed and aroused as warm butterflies flutter in your stomach.

Wade chuckles, burying his face against the side of your neck. “You picked the wrong man.”

You curse and writhe as he pushes inside of you with slow, steady thrusts, clinging to his shoulders and biceps whenever the sensations are too much. “I’m going to die,” you gasp, tears in your eyes. “It’s too much.”

“It’s not enough,” Wade growls, teeth grazing along your throat. “So many years I’ve hungered, so many years I’ve yearned.” He surges up into you at the word, and you’re mortified when you wail into the briny air. Wade rocks his hips up into you, hands splayed across your ass, thumbs spreading you open to take him deeper. You whimper and clutch him as tightly as you dare, feeling your breaths mingle as your nerves come alight like a pyrotechnic display.

He moves inside of you like you were made for each other, fitting inside you again and again as you cry out and shake apart. When you come, it’s with his name on your lips and his teeth around your neck, his fins rustling as he empties himself inside of you with a few final, reckless thrusts. “Don’t drop me,” you pant, blunt human nails digging into Wade’s scales. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“And you think I can?” Wade grunts, though he obligingly lowers you onto the sand with care as he kneels down. “Give me a minute and I’ll do it again.”

“You really do want to kill me,” you groan, resting your face against Wade’s shoulder with a sigh.

“No,” Wade rumbles in reply, gurgling softly with pleasure. “But I do really want to marry you. You can carry my eggs and we can have little bubblers nipping at our heels.”

“I can what?!”

“I was joking. Surrealist comedy. Have you ever heard of it?”

“I take it back. I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“I do,” you sigh, feeling Wade smile against the top of your head. “Gods help me, I do.”

#exophilia #exophlia fic #monster romance #monster boyfriend #monster lemon #fishman #fishman boyfriend #gillman #gillman boyfriend #Wade #my work

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ill-skillsgard · 3 years

Note

is faith dealing w being away from fausty? I miss them so :(,, I hope you’re well love xoxo

Warning: 18+ Mentions of sex/phone sex, mentions of alcohol and drug use, violent threats, non-consensual touching, brief mentions of rape.

Note: I missed writing Faust stuff so much over the holidays. He’s definitely one of my favourite secretly soft boys. I can’t wait to get back into the swing of writing. Thank you to the lovely anons who haven’t given up on this pairing yet! I will try not to go 2 months between posts for these guys.

Summary: Faith starts to miss Faust so much while he’s away on tour that she goes to his apartment to spend the night in his bedroom. However, her plans are interrupted by the people Faust warned her not to hang around.

Faust x Faith Masterpost [x]

Faith awoke in a sweat, chest pumping hot torrents of blood to her head as the ceiling came into view, the walls containing her after a flight through a nightmare faded into obscurity. She rolled onto her back, her flimsy cotton nightgown sticking to her dewy skin, and tossed the comforter from her top half. Streetlamps and passing cars cast geometric blocks of light on the ceiling, illuminating the dust motes floating by her face. Faith breathed in and out, shaking her head free from the gripping terror of unconsciousness.

She had dreamed of receiving a phone call from Faust in the middle of the night, and when she answered, he explained to her in a laconic, matter-of-fact voice why they shouldn't continue seeing each other. He was too busy to maintain a relationship with a girl who's path would never intersect with his goals. She was too young, too naive, too proper. Too this and too that and in no way matched him. The terrible sinking in her chest returned as it had in the dream, but she dismissed the sensation. It was all a silly dream, a manifestation of her worst fear. Faust loved her and would never break up with her—least of all over a phone call.

The cellphone next to her pillow came to life, vibrating a couple of times before she found it and squinted at the bright screen. Faust. She sat up, and her lungs froze, the cavernous hole opening up under her skin. When she answered, voices and loud music came through like warring radio waves.

"Hello?" She whispered, not wanting to wake her dorm mate.

"Faith? You there?"

"Yes," her voice crawled from her throat, no louder than a rasp. She cleared her airway and said again, "Yes."

"Aw, are you sleeping, babe?"

"No," she whispered.

"Hm? I can't hear you. Hang on, let me find a quieter place."

Faith swung out of bed and left the dorm to go to the shared washrooms where she could speak. She entered a stall, put down the toilet seat and sat atop the cold plastic, waiting for Faust's deep voice to tickle her ear again.

"You there?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"That's better, yeah. I can hear you now."

Faith squeezed her knees together, his voice like warm liquid flowing into her stomach. She sighed, relieved.

"Sorry, I know it's late for you. We had a really late soundcheck, then I was in the green room until we went on. I didn't forget to call."

Faith nodded, smiling, though Faust couldn't see the respite his words gave her after the unpleasant dream that had jarred her awake.

"It's okay. Where are you again?"

"Utah, probably a couple hours behind you. We're out of the venue now."

"How was the show?" Faith asked.

"It was good—big stage. Couple hundred people, but maybe a quarter of them were there for us. We sold a lot of merch, though."

"That's great, babe. I'm glad you're having fun."

"Yeah," Faust sighed. "I miss you, though. Can't believe there's still another three weeks of this."

Faith leaned her head against the stall's metal barrier, reading the scandalous notes engraved in the chipped paint. "I know. Seems like forever."

"You're still good to come to our last show?"

"Yes. I told my parents I'm going to a friend's cottage for the weekend."

"But really, you're getting on a Greyhound and coming to see me."

She closed her eyes and giggled. "That's right."

Faith wondered if she should tell Faust about her bad dream. She knew what he'd say to her: it was just a dumb dream, and he would never break up with her, so she shouldn't let it bother her so much. She accepted this assurance without bringing it up.

"I'm in my bunk now," Faust told her.

"I'm in the bathroom," said Faith.

"Wish you were here, though. It gets so boring sometimes, driving from place to place, listening to these dumbasses argue over the shower."

"It's the same here. I've started taking showers at midnight just to avoid the headache and bargaining. These girls all have the same night routine. There's always a line-up to use the shower."

"Mm," Faust grunted. "Yeah. Stupid."

A moment of silence passed between them. Faith savoured his soft breaths coming over the line, wishing she could feel the warmth behind them. She craved his scent, the smell of his shampoo, the distinct mentholated freshness of his deodorant. She wanted to stroke his face, and touch his biceps, inspect the hair underneath his arms until he told her she was weird for finding such things fascinating. She wanted to feel the twin ruts coming to a peak below his navel, leading down to his groin where he'd snatch her hand and berate her, ultimately relenting and letting her stroke the soft skin underneath the band of his plaid boxers.

"I wanna touch you," she whispered.

"Fuck," he drawled. "Me too, babe."

"I had a bad dream you called me in the middle of the night to break up with me... then you actually called. Do you think that's weird?"

Faust scoffed in that indignant way he always did. She pictured the corner of his mouth snagging, his brows descending at such a silly thing.

"That's kind of weird."

"I hate not being able to sleep next to you."

"Don't worry, babe. I'll be home soon. You can get through the next few weeks."

"Yeah, but... Do you miss sleeping next to me?"

"Oh, definitely. I really miss you hogging the blankets, pushing me to the edge of the bed, punching me in your sleep."

"I don't do that!"

Faust snickered. "Yeah, you do. But it's okay. I'm like way stronger than you. I can move you like nothing."

"Don't remind me," Faith groaned.

"Don't remind you of what? How strong I am?"

Faith made her voice small. "Yes. I can't think of that kind of stuff right now."

"You can't think about me overpowering you?"

"Sh. Quiet."

"What? Don't want to think about me pinning your arms above your head with one hand while I finger you? S'that what you don't want to think about?"

"I hate you," she said.

"Hate it when I pick you up and fuck you against the wall?"

"Yes."

"So...You're definitely not thinking about my cock, then? You haven't been playing with my pussy while I've been away? Pretending your fingers are mine? Or using that toy you bought to fuck yourself in your dorm when your roommate isn't there?"

"Oh my gosh, Faust. Please."

"You don't make yourself cum to the thought of me eating out that pussy? You don't miss my fat cock stretching out that poor little slit? Making you bounce on it? Sucking it until I cum buckets down your throat?"

"Faust," she whispered. "You're bad."

"Answer me. Do you think about riding my cock every night before bed? Rub yourself against a pillow between your legs?"

"Yes, I think about it all the time."

"Can you do me a favour?" Faust asked. Faith agreed before hearing the terms of said agreement. "Tomorrow, I want you to go to all your classes without wearing any panties under your skirt."

Faith's cheeks burned from his request. "What if it's windy and it blows up my skirt?"

"I don't really care," he said. "Know what? Never mind. Scratch that. This isn't a request; it's a command. I want you to take pictures while you're in class to prove you listened."

"I can't! Someone will see."

"Think I give a fuck? Sit in the back if you have to."

"I'll try," said Faith, toying with the sleeves of her nightgown.

"That's my girl."

They spoke for a few more minutes until Faust's bandmates flooded onto the bus, yelling and searching for the drummer who'd stowed away in the bunks. Faust said his goodbyes, made sure Faith understood her instructions for tomorrow, then said goodnight. She heard his friends mocking him in the backroom, calling him pussy-whipped, listened to him threaten their lives and giggled.

"I love you," Faust said, loud enough that anyone around him might hear. His unabashed affection filled her to the brim with warm fuzz.

"I love you, too," Faith replied, then looked at the phone screen until he hung up.

Later in the week, Faith started having trouble sleeping. Even if she filled her days with activities, studied into the night, ate properly and read before bed, her mind swam with anxiety. She told Faust about it, but he had no solution other than to stop by his place to grab one of his hoodies to sleep in, maybe one of his blankets if she missed him so much. Delighted, Faith accepted the suggestion, and Faust texted his roommate to leave the apartment door unlocked for her. She made her way over after dinner one night and walked in on Faust's roommate hosting a party.

The apartment was in disarray—worse than she'd ever seen. Beer bottles and cigarettes overflowing the ashtray was commonplace, but now there were grease-stained pizza boxes open on the floor, salt stains on the rug from people coming in and out from the balcony. The sofa pocked with several more burn marks, the dishes hadn't been washed since Faust left, and the entire living room reeked of stale food and smoke. Not only that, but she'd come in at the precise moment the music transitioned, and every eye in the place went to her.

She recognized half the people in Faust's apartment from other parties—Anika, the most familiar face that turned in her direction. The tall, blond girl smiled and pushed a guy's hand off her shoulder before approaching her. The metal music picked up, drowned out the silence, and Faith relaxed when Anika hugged her.

"Hey! I didn't know you were coming!" Anika exclaimed.

"I wasn't... Well, I didn't know anyone was here. I just came to get some stuff from Faust's room."

"Oh, cool. How is Frosty? I haven't seen you guys since Halloween!"

"He's good," Faith said, voice tapering off when she saw a pair of malicious eyes grilling her from across the room. "You know... Just touring."

"Yeah, I heard. That's awesome. Hey, you want anything to drink? We have beer in the fridge," Anika said.

Faith felt awkward standing in the middle of the front hall, while groups of people occupied her boyfriend's apartment. She realized she had very little dominion and shrank into herself until Anika pulled her into the kitchen. The blond pulled out two cans of domestic beer and handed her one, noticing Faith's unease.

"What's the matter?" Asked Anika.

Faith wondered if Faust knew about all the people in his apartment, if his roommate had asked him if he could have a party and invite all the people Faust talked shit about—the people he warned her not to hang out with.

"Uh, nothing. Just feels weird being here without Faust," said Faith.

"Aw, it's okay, girl. We party here all the time."

Faith questioned the verity of Anika's claim. She couldn't recall them having any big parties there since she started dating Faust eight months ago. Faust didn't like too many people in his space. Whenever they partied, it was always at someone else's house or out in the bush around a fire.

The same pair of blue eyes had Faith in a stranglehold. She cocked her head, and Anika noticed her attention locked on a man with fine blond hair touching his collarbone.

"Is that—?"

"Sven? Yeah. You probably remember him from that time we went camping."

Faith wished to turn in on herself, abandon the can of beer Anika had given her, grab what she needed from Faust's room, and leave. Anika sensed her discomfort and placed her thin hand on Faith's shoulder.

"Don't worry, he won't bother you. He has a girlfriend now."

"He's a creep," Faith muttered.

Anika shot Sven a look over her shoulder, and he turned away, pulling on a beer and wiping his mouth. Faith remembered the stench of his burnt hair in the fire, how Faust had punched him and dragged him through the dirt toward the pit where he held his face in the flames. Sven complained about the scratches and scrapes on his arms and legs from Faust dragging him the entire way home after they cut the trip short. The same tension that pierced the atmosphere in the van while Sven took the front seat and Faust held her hand in the back seat was the same strain she felt now as he stole glances at her. His wispy mustache had grown back along with his eyebrows and pale lashes.

Faith felt a pang of guilt in her stomach but dismissed the feeling with a swig of beer and Anika's encouragement. Faust would get angry with her if he knew she felt even an inch of remorse over what happened. Sven deserved what he got, and that's what she kept telling herself throughout the night as she drank a couple more beers with Anika and took a hit off a joint someone offered her out on the balcony.

A few of Faust's friends asked her about him, and it filled her with pride knowing everyone there knew who she was, who Faust was. She told them where the band was that night, where they were slated to go next, that they had sold out of merchandise and had to place an emergency order and have it shipped to the next venue. After a few hours, Faith felt the tug of exhaustion creeping over her shoulders and told Anika she had to head out, though she'd already missed the last bus and had little money in her bank account for a cab. Faith considered asking someone for a ride back to campus, but nobody seemed sober enough to trust behind the wheel.

Instead, she went to Faust's bedroom and shut the door and all the noises behind her. In his room, she took in a deep breath, and then another, filling her senses with the comforting scent of pine, stale air and the boyish aroma Faust carried with him. She went to his closet and brushed a hand over the black t-shirts and one of his leather coats. Next, Faith opened the third drawer in the lowboy and pulled out a hoodie that had shrunk in the wash and didn't fit Faust anymore. She often wore it when she came over, but he refused to let her take it home until now. She slipped it on over her blouse, smoothed it over her skirt and wrapped her arms around her ribs. The hood still smelled of Faust's hair.

Without thinking much, she arranged the objects on his dresser into an organized system rather than a mess of pens, splintered drumsticks, guitar picks and snack wrappers. She shovelled the waste into the garbage can under his desk, made his bed, fluffed the pillows, cleared the dirty clothes off the floor and kicked it all into the closet. If there wasn't a party going on right outside the door, she'd have done his laundry and took the dirty plates and forks to the kitchen sink. She did what she could without having to set foot outside the bedroom, and by the time she finished folding the clothes in his dresser into neat stacks, it was far too late for her to go anywhere.

Faith took off her panties and skirt, changed into a pair of his pyjama pants and sat on his bed with her hands folded, wondering if Faust would care if she spent the night in his bed. The fluffy pillows called out for her head. His comforter promised visions of them together again. She considered texting him to say she was staying over, but there was a knock on the door as she went for her phone.

She lifted her feet off the carpet and tucked them under her thighs, balled herself as small as she could until whoever knocked got the hint and walked away. The knock came again, and Faith's throat tightened.

"Yes?" She called.

The door opened, and she expected to see Anika's blond head poking in, but it wasn't her. The person was blond, but the face was not smeared with white foundation, nor were the blue eyes overlined with charcoal black. Sven stepped into the room and shut the door behind him.

"What are you doing in here?" He asked.

"What are you doing in here? This is my boyfriend's room. Why wouldn't I be here?"

"Sorry," said Sven, opening his palms to show he meant no harm. "I wanted to talk to you for a second. Is that okay?"

"I don't see why that's necessary."

"Mmkay, well, you don't have to be a bitch about it. Your boyfriend is the one who almost burnt my face off."

"Well, you were being weird. You're being weird now by coming in here. You should probably go."

"Sucks when he's not around to intimidate everyone that ever wants to start a conversation with you, huh?"

Faith pressed her lips together. Was he threatening her? She wasn't sure. He kept his distance, though his eyes ricocheted off the valuable objects in the room. The Gibson guitar hanging on the wall, the vintage RD bass in its stand just below, the electric drumset next to the desk, Faust's five-thousand-dollar computer, and finally, her. Faust's prized possessions all in one room.

"What do you want to talk about?" Faith broke the silence, sweating.

"I wanted to apologize for acting like an idiot back in the Summer. I was really drunk. I shouldn't have said that shit."

"Okay, well, thanks for the apology."

Sven gestured at her, pale eyebrows high on his freckled forehead. "And?"

"And what?" Faith asked.

"Aren't you going to apologize to me?"

"I have nothing to apologize for."

"You can apologize on behalf of your psycho boyfriend. That’d be a start."

Faith scoffed, heated by the insult. When it came to Faust, she never wanted to hear the negatives. It reminded her of her father's disapproval, filled her with useful venom. "Sorry, if you want an apology from Faust, he’d have to give it to you, and I don’t think that’s happening any time soon."

"Wow," Sven said with a click of his tongue. "And I thought you were a nice girl."

"I am nice, but right now, you're in my personal space, and it's making me uncomfortable."

As she spoke, she noticed Sven's knees wobbling. He was drunk. His beer breath filled the room. Faith shifted closer to the wall, clutching her crossed legs, silently begging for him to leave. He took a step closer, and she gasped.

"Relax, I'm not gonna do anything. Jesus, you chicks watch too much TV, thinkin' every dude is a rapist or something."

"Whatever you say, man. Look, if you're done, I think it's time you leave."

"Why? You going to sleep?"

"You just shouldn't be in here. If Faust were home, you wouldn't set foot in this room or even think about talking to me."

Sven threw his head back and laughed. "Just because he caught me off guard once doesn't mean I'm afraid of him. He can suck my dick, and so can you."

"Get out," Faith said.

"Hey now, hey... It's all good. Christ, I'm just trying to mend bridges, but you're being a total bitch when I'm here apologizing."

"You just told me I could suck your dick. You're literally insulting me to my face. I've asked you to leave, and you're not!"

Sven pushed air through his teeth, teetered closer to her and sat down on the foot of the bed. Faith's body froze, her limbs stiff as boards as the man laid on his back. His face was a foot from her.

"If it weren't for your boyfriend, I'd be on tour right now. I'd be the one selling out venues and merch, signing shit and having people ask me to take pictures."

"It was your fault."

When the words floated from Faith's mouth, his forehead crinkled, and he shot up. She gasped, scrambling against the wall like a cornered rodent.

"Fuck you! Stupid fucking slut! Faust is a way bigger piece of shit than I am. Ask anybody! Everyone knows how much of an asshole he is. Nobody actually likes him. They're just afraid of him because he threatens to kill anyone whoever disagrees with what he says."

The venom roiled in Faith's stomach, blistering up her neck and filling her mind with violent static. Her hands shook as adrenaline pumped into her veins. One more minute alone with Sven and she thought she might lose control of herself.

Sven got off the bed and went for the bass. Faith hissed at him not to touch it, so he leaned over and spat on the finish.

"Get out!" Faith cried. "Get the fuck out right now!"

The music outside the door must have drowned out her yells, for nobody came looking for her. She stood up on the bed, back pressed against a poster. Sven grabbed at her ankle, but she kicked and slapped the top of her foot against his forearm. He laughed and swiped again as she danced away.

"LEAVE!"

"Make me!"

"I'll fucking call the cops on you!"

"Do it, bitch. I'll knock you out and do what I want before anyone even realizes I'm in here."

"Help!" Faith hollered. "Rape! Rape! He's trying to rape me!"

"Woah, woah, calm down. I didn't say that—"

The venom boiled over, shot up through her esophagus and escaped her mouth in panicked screams. Stunned by the banshee shrieks ripping through the air, Sven backed toward the door, feeling around for the doorknob while Faith screamed her face red, blood vessels popping in her eyes, throwing explosions of stars across her vision until he left the room and she dropped onto the bed, crying. Faith felt around the bed for her phone and called Faust.

He answered on the first ring.

"Faust," she blubbered.

"Don't worry, baby. I'm coming home right now."

"W-what?"

"Look over at the computer."

Faith wiped the snot from her nose onto the hoodie's sleeve and glanced at the desk where the computer monitor stood. "Huh? I don't understand."

"See that light right beside the monitor? Wave at it."

Faith lifted her hand. She squinted at the blue dot belonging to a small camera set up between a speaker and the monitor.

"I installed a Bluetooth camera before leaving for tour. Don't trust people to not go into my room and touch my stuff."

"You mean—?"

"I saw everything. Heard everything, too. It's motion-activated."

Faith paled at the thought of Faust watching her cleaning his room, the way she'd caressed his clothes on her face and huffed his scent before Sven came in.

"What should I do, Faust? He's still out there."

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it."

"Should I call the cops?"

"No, don't call anyone. Don't say anything. I said I'll take care of it."

"Okay," she whispered.

"Faith, I'm serious. Let me handle this," his voice was stern.

"What're you gonna do?"

Faust went quiet for a moment until she motioned at the camera. He sighed. "I can't tell you right now."

The adrenaline depleted, and Faith let out a sob. "I need you, Faust. I'm scared."

"Don't be scared, babe. I got you. I'll be home as soon as I can, but I need you to be strong. Don't talk to anyone about what happened until I get there, understand? Nobody. Not your friends, not your parents, don't write it in your journal or breath a word. I promise I'll make it better."

#faust x faith #valter skarsgard fanfiction #valter skarsgard imagine #valter skarsgard

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Me and You Together, 2/10 (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: The cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates, because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward. A’whora and Tayce both know this, but being in first year of uni and making good decisions have never really gone hand in hand.

a/n: thank u so so much if you left a lil love or a reblog on the first chapter of this!!!! it honestly means the world and i do see and appreciate it all so thank u SO much! hope u all enjoy the next chapter!

last chapter: December- A'whora and Tayce finally kissed after months of build-up after A'whora was jealous of the attention Tayce recieved on a night out.

this chapter: September- On a damp, bright Saturday in September, six flatmates move into their student flat and meet for the first time.

***

september- i can’t remember when we met

It’s a damp, bright day when Tayce arrives in the city for the first time.

She’s been here before- once when she was eight and again for the open day- but today it’s as if she’s seeing everything through fresh eyes. The sunshine on the puddles on the pavement gives everything a sparkle and a kind of magic, and the blue sky that pokes out from the jagged edges and roofs of stone buildings fills her with a sense of excitement and optimism.

They’ve been on the road since nine in the morning and awake since seven, and Tayce should be tired, shattered even, but she feels energised and alive as she peers out the passenger window and drinks in every last little detail of the place she’s going to be calling home for the next few years: the cobbled roads that make her Mum worry about the car’s suspension, the way the streets and roads seem to snake, dip and overlap over each other in a series of bridges and tunnels that make it almost impossible to navigate, every single little cafe and boutique and restaurant and office and kebab shop. The signs for places she’s never heard of and the buses on their way there.

Nothing can dull her excitement when they pull up on the narrow, hilled street where her block of flats are hiding, not even her Dad almost having a nervous breakdown at the wheel about the lack of parking. They decide to throw caution to the wind and park on the double yellow lines outside, her parents hurriedly helping her with her heavy, stuffed suitcase and the bin bag with all her bedding in it and walking with her as she not so much trundles but drags her things through the gates into the courtyard. Tayce takes in her surroundings with darting eyes, too much to drink in at once. There’s a high stone wall in the far left-hand corner and what looks to be the laundry room on the ground floor of the building beside it. A few scrubs of plants lined with bricks are dotted around the courtyard, where a few students are already sitting smoking. The rest of the buildings that hem them in are tall with little windows dotted all over them, and each side is painted a different colour: white, powder blue, or coral red. It’s an interesting combination but Tayce supposes she doesn’t have to look all too long or all too hard at the outside of the building if she’s going to be living inside it.

There’s some little tables set up outside with uni staff manning them, so Tayce leaves her parents with her things while she goes over to pick up her keys. It’s not a long process- she gives her name and she gets handed two keys (which she’s told are her room key and her flat key) with a keyring on them, a messy scribble that reads block 4, flat 10, room 2 with a four-digit code for the front door of the block. A welcome pack gets thrust into her other hand, and she’s sent on her way with an “enjoy freshers!”.

It doesn’t take the three of them long to find block four, but they’re instantly dismayed to find out that flat ten is on the top floor and there’s no elevator. Tayce’s Dad is left to carry her suitcase up each flight of stairs while her Mum takes the bin bag and casts a judgemental eye over each floor of the echoey stairwell, clearly nervous about leaving her oldest child in the care of five strangers who could all very well be psychopaths.

“Mum,” Tayce cocks an eyebrow at her, reaching out to loop her arm through hers as they reach the top floor and the door of her flat. “I’ll be fine, okay? I’m a smart, sensible, responsible, gorgeous young lady. You did a great job raising me, I’ll be fucking golden, okay?”

“Hey! Watch your language, missus,” her Mum warns her, and Tayce stops herself from rolling her eyes and arguing about the fact that she’s about to begin her actual journey towards adulthood in favour of giving her Mum’s arm a squeeze of apology. “Of course you’ll be fine, I know you’ll be fine. You’re still my baby, though, I’m allowed to worry.”

“I know,” Tayce smiles sheepishly, looking down at her phone at the message she’s got from her sister. Opening it, she ends up snorting with laughter and beckoning her Dad over to look. “You should probably be more worried about what these three are getting up to with Gran, though.”

“Shit in the kettle,” her Mum exhales exasperatedly as she looks at the photo on the screen- Tayce’s sister mid-scream in the garden, as her two brothers and her Gran appear to be in the middle of a silly-string fight. Tayce is doubled over as her Mum turns to her Dad, insisting that she knew they should’ve taken them all on the journey up. Tayce is inclined to agree- she knows there wouldn’t have been space for all of them as well as her huge suitcase, but her family are close and she’s used to doing everything together. As much as she’s excited for uni, it’s going to be weird living somewhere other than her big crazy, busy house in Newport, with constant noise and bustle and the walls almost bursting at the seams with love.

If she thinks about it too much though she’ll end up getting emotional, so she pulls her keys out of the pocket of her jacket and flips her hair over her shoulder, because it’ll make things easier for her parents if they think she’s as confident and self-assured as she seems. “Besides, I’m sure the girls I’ll be living with will all have their heads screwed on alright.”

As she turns the key in the lock and opens the door, she’s met with a loud blast of music from the hallway that almost physically knocks her back a bit. Tayce turns to her Mum and Dad, smiling tightly as if to urge them not to let the loud music discredit the point she’s made.

“Hello?” Tayce yells into the hallway, tentatively approaching the first room where the door’s open and that the music is blaring out of. When there’s no answer she peers through the doorframe, a little nervous. Inside there’s a single bed, a cupboard, a set of drawers, a desk, and a bedside table all in the same pale wood-effect colour. There’s also a sink, a mirror, and a window. It’s all a very basic set of furniture, but the girl inside the room is livening the surroundings up a bit. Her hair falls in bouncy brown curls that rest on her shoulders, with a purple ribbon that snakes through them and is tied in a bow at her parting. She’s pale with dark eyebrows but the little absent-minded smile on her face goes some way to assuage Tayce’s nerves, and she’s humming along with her music as she unpacks her clothes from the suitcase she’s heaved onto the bed.

(It occurs to Tayce, as a result of the fact that Madonna is playing and that the girl’s wearing a red flannel shirt tucked into a pair of high-waisted Mom jeans, that at least she won’t be the only lesbian in the flat.)

It’s the relief that prompts Tayce to yell out a “hey!”, which in turn makes the girl in the room yelp and snap her head around to face her, her mouth set in a slack-jawed expression of surprise which quickly melts into one of relief.

“Fuck me sideways, I just about shat myself there!” she laughs loudly, immediately turning down her music. “Oh my God, hi babes! I’ve got a flatmate, finally! We gettin’ pished or what?”

Tayce bursts out laughing, darts her eyes to her Mum and Dad’s slightly horrified expressions from further down the hall. “Bit early for that, nah?”

“It’s never too early in Scotland!” the girl cackles, approaching Tayce and immediately giving her a hug. “Hey flatmate, I’m Lawrence! Do you want a drink?”

Tayce keeps trying not to laugh but fails when Lawrence looks out into the hall and sees Tayce’s Mum and Dad, her face immediately falling in embarrassment.

“Oh. Hi, Mr and Mrs Flatmate! I’m Lawrence!”

Tayce snorts at the way her Dad gives her a resigned wave and how her Mum’s face is the picture of grimaced concern.

“I’m Tayce. That’s my Mum and Dad,” she introduces. Then, slightly embarrassed about the fact she’s got her parents with her, follows it up with, “But they’ll be leaving soon anyway.”

She hears a muttered “charming” from her Dad.

“What room’ve you got?”

“Uh…” Tayce checks her keyring, reminding herself. “Two.”

“That’s next to me!” Lawrence says enthusiastically, banging on the wall at her side as if to make her point. “Here, I’ll let you go get unpacked and say goodbye to the fam and we’ll chat after that, awright? I’ll see you after.”

“See you in a bit,” Tayce replies, trundling her suitcase down the hall as her parents follow her. As she unlocks the door to her room, she turns to them and smiles encouragingly. “See? She seems nice!”

Her Mum’s raised eyebrows prompt her not to push things.

Tayce’s room is identical to Lawrence’s- the furniture’s all in the same positions and all in the same style. A little further down the corridor past the other bedrooms is the kitchen and living-room area, which her Mum runs her fingers over to check it’s been cleaned properly. When it’s been established she’s satisfied with it the three of them return to Tayce’s room, empty apart from her belongings. The blank canvas fills her with a little tingle of excitement at the possibility of getting to decorate it all to make it properly hers, chill and cosy just like her room at home. When she thinks about home again, though, it makes her want to burst out crying and never stop, so she turns around to her parents and takes a little breath, fixing a smile onto her face.

“Well! I guess you two can leave me to get up to all sorts of mischief now. Drink beer upside-down from a tube or…whatever happens here.”

Her Mum tearfully laughs and it becomes even harder to stop herself getting upset. She asks Tayce if she wants she and her Dad to stay to help her get unpacked or if she wants to go for some food anywhere, but Tayce’s Dad, stoic as ever, says what Tayce wants to but won’t in case she hurts her Mum’s feelings- that Tayce will want to talk to her flatmate, and she won’t want her parents hanging around for too long.

So they hug goodbye tightly with tears in their eyes and snuffly noses, Tayce promising to phone every week (but she’ll probably get so homesick that it’ll be more frequent than that). She feels guilty as all hell waving her parents off down the stairs, as if she’s leaving some well-loved pet behind at a rehoming centre, but she tries to push down her emotions in favour of the small rush of excitement that’s beginning to bubble up through the upset- she’s here, it’s uni, it’s freshers, this big event that’s been built up so much in her mind.

She hopes it lives up to the hype.

It’s when she closes the front door that she hears a movement behind her, a series of small thuds against the floor.

“Right! You wanting a drink now?”

Lawrence sits in Tayce’s room while she unpacks and they talk like old friends. There’s not really any awkwardness with Lawrence; she’s outgoing and energetic and knows how to hold a conversation. Because of this, Tayce would’ve guessed she’d be studying something to do with film and TV, but it turns out she’s studying textiles and she gets excited when Tayce tells her she’s studying fine art because they’ll both have lectures at the art college. Lawrence is seventeen which shakes nineteen-year-old Tayce to her core, and they have a huge discussion about how the hell they’re both starting uni at the same time when there’s such a disparity in age between them. It turns out that the answer is Tayce taking a year out to decide what she wanted to do with her life after sixth form, and a Scottish school system that lets kids start school at the age of four. Lawrence doesn’t seem worried that her inability to get into clubs will hinder her freshers’ week, as she’s got a friend who’s in second year and is letting her borrow her ID for the week (Lawrence’s post-9pm alias for the next seven days is named Rosé McCorkell).

“How come you didn’t just take a year out and wait til you were eighteen?” Tayce asks, taking a sip of peach schnapps from one of the plastic tumblers Lawrence has offered her.

“Because I didn’t want to,” Lawrence shrugs, and Tayce raises her eyebrows in a fair enough. “I wanted to leave home- not in a bad way, but I was just bored. You’d be too if you lived there.”

Lawrence is from Helensburgh, a town Tayce has never heard of but apparently has a Waitrose and that’s about it. This indicates to Tayce that Helensburgh is a town full of Tories. No wonder Lawrence was in such a rush to get away.

Her parents seem like they’re the cool kind of parents. They dropped her off at the flat at two in the afternoon with her suitcase and a Sainsbury’s bag full of alcohol for the week (hence the reason she has so much for someone who can’t legally buy it). Her Dad doesn’t really agree with what she’s decided to study, because apparently she got the grades for something like Law or Medicine and he wanted her to do something where she was guaranteed stability and a career. In response to this Lawrence apparently sent off five different applications to five different art schools in one of the most silent, passive-aggressive fuck you-s in history.

Tayce can relate to this. She tells Lawrence what it was like to have finally decided on something to do at uni, only to be met with “are you really sure?” and “do you think that’s wise?” and “but what will you do with that?”. They moan about how it’s so frustrating to have to justify wanting to study something when really the only desire comes from just finding it interesting, or fun, or being passionate about it.

They’re about to launch into a conversation about what each of their experiences at school had been like (stemming from a story Lawrence told her about telling her guidance counsellor to get fucked when he suggested she should train to be a teacher) when there’s a commotion out in the hall, which in turn makes the two of them run to the doorframe in excitement. They find two new flatmates laughing and grappling with their suitcases which appear to have become stuck in the small hallway: one with straight, flowing dark hair that hangs over her shoulders, dark makeup, leopard print sweatpants and an excitable smile on her face, and the other with a chaotic blonde bun that looks as if they’ve slept in it, a black bralet underneath a denim jacket, and a little Kate Moss-esque gap in their teeth when they smile.

“Here! You wantin’ a hand with those?” Lawrence yells, and the two newbies give a shriek of delight, abandoning their suitcases and climbing over them to hug their two new flatmates.

They talk at about a mile a minute as they introduce themselves and pile into Tayce’s bedroom, uninvited but by no means unwelcome. Leopard-print sweatpants’ name is Tia and bun-head’s name is Bimini. In a spooky twist of fate it turns out that their seats happened to be opposite each other on the train up, and they got talking and realised they were both going to be at the same uni, in the same accomodation, and in the same flat. They’ve been excited and a little drunk ever since, Bimini tells them, the trolley on the train acting as a mobile bar for the pair of them to order endless amounts of prosecco and toast to their new friendship.

Lawrence and Tayce decide to let the pair drop their things in each of their rooms, while they relocate to the kitchen which is much bigger. Lawrence sets all her alcohol out on the rickety dining table while Tayce thuds herself down on one of the purple sofas, looking out of the adjacent window and taking in the views out onto the buildings and streets below. She’ll go exploring tomorrow, get her bearings a bit. Tonight is for getting silly with her new flatmates and sussing them all out. She’s lucky, though, that they all seem nice enough so far.

“They seem nice, don’t they? The other two,” Tayce turns to Lawrence and verbalises what she’s thinking, and Lawrence nods in agreement as she crosses over to the sofa and takes her cup to refill it.

“Yeah. I think we’ve got lucky, to be honest, My friend in second year- that one whose ID I’m borrowing- she’s told me total horror stories about weirdo flatmates.”

“We’ve still got two to arrive, there’s still time,” Tayce considers with a snort, and Lawrence shrugs in agreement.

Bimini emerges first, wedging the fire extinguisher against the kitchen door to prop it open so that any of the other new flatmates arriving will instantly know where they are. Lawrence shoves a tumbler into their hand like some sort of bartender and they all squash onto the sofas as they chat to their new flatmate. Bimini is another one who’s glad to get out of their hometown, and has come to uni to study journalism.

“I’ve already got the fucked sleeping pattern and constant hangover, so I’m halfway there,” they say almost proudly, their accent making Tayce laugh in spite of herself.

Tia joins them all as Bimini’s halfway through a rant about how hard it was to try and sort accommodation for uni, which the other girls agree with.

“They seemed to think I could commute from Helensburgh to here every day,” Lawrence rolls her eyes, and Bimini laughs in agreement.

“Well I had a fuckin’ nightmare as well. They tried putting me in a twelve-person flat at first-”

“That’s not a flat, that’s a fuckin’ small village!”

“Right! So then they kept trying to shoehorn me into an all-boys flat, because fuck, I don’t know…they heard the words ‘non-binary’ and thought ‘man’ I guess?”

“Jesus,” Tayce wrinkles her nose up. She can’t think of anything worse than having to share with a bunch of guys. No wonder Bimini didn’t want to.

Bimini laughs ruefully as they finish their story. “In the end I rang them up and said look, what do you want…do you want me to scan you a picture of my fuckin’ genitals? Why are you so obsessed, love, just give me the fuckin’ flat I want before I pass out!”

“I never thought how annoying that must be. You know, the whole all-girl flats and all-boy flats,” Tia muses, Tayce nodding in agreement. Bimini waves a dismissive hand.

“Aw, don’t get me wrong, I’m sort of glad they exist. I mean I already know I’m gonna like living here with you lot way more than a bunch of rugby lads who barely understand the concept of women, never mind me,” Bimini smiles, and the fact they’re already feeling positive about the flat makes Tayce’s heart warm. She feels the same- she’s getting good vibes from her flatmates already, and they’re doing wonders to offset the rumbling feeling of homesickness she’s pushed to the back of her mind.

Talk turns to Tia, who’s travelled all the way up from Essex. She’s studying computer science and is, in her own words, excited to turn up to her lectures and remind everyone that women exist. She’s another girl who’s come to uni straight from school, and from the sounds of it Tia couldn’t wait to leave. Essex girls- or at least the ones in Tia’s year- seemed to live up to the stereotype, and the fact that Tia didn’t walk around constantly caked in fake tan, lash extensions and heavy makeup made her a walking target for catty comments, poorly-concealed laughter and the occasional shove in the corridor.

Tayce laments with the others about how mean people could be in school. She didn��t have things too bad, she considers. Tayce was well-liked and popular for the right reasons. She always made sure to be kind to everyone (because her Gran would’ve killed her if she wasn’t) and if she had any nasty comments to make she kept them strictly between her and her best friend Cara, who she knew wouldn’t spread things around.

(She’s also the only person at school she came out to. She imagines her high school life would’ve been a lot different if she’d brought that into the mix.)

They’ve moved on to discussing what they think uni life will be like (Bimini is particularly looking forward to getting to make pancakes for breakfast every day) when Tayce notices Lawrence’s gaze lock onto something behind Tayce’s head. Her face grows shocked and awed, and a massive smile starts to spread across it. As Tayce turns around she sees another girl standing at the doorway into the kitchen with a similar expression on her face.

Tia, who’s sitting beside Lawrence, shoots the girl a smile and a wave. “Hey-”

“Aw, fuck off! Not you! Not you!”

Tayce flinches as Lawrence leaps up from the sofa, running across the room to wrap the girl in a massive hug. Their height difference makes the hug look funny, as the new girl is tall. Tayce always thought she was tall, but this girl almost defies the laws of physics. In fact, everything about the girl seems to work in extremes- her blonde hair is so thick and full of volume that her curls seem to stick out at all angles, barely tamed by a pink scrunchie keeping half of it in order on the top of her head. Her makeup is bold and perfect, two sweeps of eyeliner framing her big eyes and pink eyeshadow dusted over her lids. Two huge heart-shaped purple earrings hang from her ears embossed with the word “bitch”, which skews Tayce’s first impression somewhat. But the girl is also in a full pink tie-dye Barbie tracksuit, so she can’t be all that mean.

Lawrence finally releases her from the hug, and the girl’s laughing breathlessly as she continues to talk. “What are you actually doing here?”

The girl splutters a laugh, shakes Lawrence by the shoulders. “Bitch! I live here! I’m moving in!”

Lawrence gives a screech of excitement again, throwing her arms around the girl and swaying her from side to side. Tayce shares a look of bewildered amusement between Bimini and Tia, none of them any the wiser as to what’s going on.

When Lawrence releases the girl again, she addresses the others this time. “Well, folks, it looks like we finally got a shatmate!”

“Fuck up!” the girl shoves her side, then dashes over to the sofas. “Hey! Nice to meet you all, I’m Ellie!”

The others all get up to hug her excitedly and introduce themselves, happy that they’re all one step closer to having a full flat, and Ellie budges up in between Lawrence and Tia on the sofa opposite Tayce as she chats about herself and learns about the others. It turns out that she and Lawrence are old friends in the most bizarre coincidence ever.

“Every Easter my family would go down to the Haven holiday park in Northumberland,” Ellie tells them the story, looking at Lawrence with a rueful smile on her face. “And we’d always get the same caravan. Well, my family got talking to the family in the caravan next door, and they had a daughter the same age as me and my brother. Turns out it was this cunt, wasn’t it!”

Lawrence laughs, smacking Ellie on the arm. “We ended up going down at the same time every year! This was from when we were six right up until we were like, sixteen. And me and her and her brothers would cause absolute abject riots together. We’d spend all day in the arcade doing the dance mats-”

“And we’d always thrash you because you were so shit!” Ellie squeals, the others laughing as Lawrence gives Ellie another thump. “I still remember when you kicked the poor guy in the Bradley Bear costume in the balls because I was so scared of him that I was crying!”

“Jesus Christ, we’re really kicking off with the embarrassing stories already,” Lawrence rolls her eyes, but from the little twinkle in them Tayce can tell she’s not really too bothered.

Ellie’s another seventeen year old (Tayce makes some joke about Scotland’s school system sending infants to university) but she seems to have ordered a fake ID off some website and it looks legit enough, Tayce inspecting it as she passes it around proudly. She’s from a place called Broughty Ferry (“but it’s easier to just say Dundee”) which has a beach and a funfair and a caravan park.

“It’s the posh part of Dundee, which is a bit of a juxtaposition in all honesty,” she explains, earning a blurt of a laugh from Bimini.

Ellie’s the first in her family to go to university, and she’s studying costume design which makes Lawrence and Tayce excited about having someone else to walk over to the college of art with in the mornings. It turns out she’s got two brothers, one of which is her twin, and she and Tayce bond over how weird it’ll be to not be living with their siblings for the first time in their lives.

Tayce doesn’t know when the minutes turn to hours but they do, the sky outside gradually growing a little darker before she even realises it. In all honesty, she feels she’s got lucky with her flatmates; they all seem to be a good laugh and kind and normal enough. It’s odd, though, that there’s still the five of them. Tayce checks her phone and she sees that it’s gone seven.

“Do we think the other girl’s going to come tomorrow?” she wonders out loud, as Tia tops up Ellie’s glass with the litre bottle of vodka she’s brought with her.

“Maybe? Bit weird not coming for the first night of freshers,” Ellie wrinkles her nose in disapproval.

“Well maybe she’s got a long haul flight or something,” Tia shrugs.

“I hope she’s not posh.”

Ellie rolls her eyes and turns to her friend. “Lawrence, you think anyone that’s from anywhere south of Paisley is posh.”

Tayce snorts at Ellie’s delivery and Lawrence’s affronted reaction, despite the fact she couldn’t put Paisley on a map if you paid her. Just then, Bimini emerges from the hall, having been to their room to grab some cigarettes so they can smoke out the window.

“We talking about the last flatmate? There’s someone moving around in the room next to mine.”

Tayce’s eyes widen a little as she looks at the others. “Have they just arrived?”

“Nah, door was shut so they’ve probably been there a while, we just ain’t noticed. Too busy getting bevved.”

“How come they’ve not come through?” Lawrence asks, her eyes narrowing. Ellie gives her a dig in the ribs with her elbow, her drink sloshing out of her glass a little.

“Because you screeching every word you speak doesn’t exactly scream ‘calm, welcoming environment’?”

“Did you knock on the door?” Tayce asks Bimini, who pulls a face.

“Well, it was kinda awkward. Think they might’ve been crying. I could hear a lot of sniffing. Still, maybe they just got a runny nose. Or they were doing a key.”

The girls all splutter at Bimini’s turn of phrase, but something heavy and uncomfortable lodges itself in Tayce’s heart at the thought of one of her new flatmates in their room on their own, alone and upset. That could very well have been Tayce if she hadn’t had Lawrence’s infectiously funny energy to pull her out of her potential slump. She decides to slide off the sofa, decisive if a little nervous.

“I’ll go see if I can talk to them.”

“Should we come with you?” Ellie asks earnestly, earning her a snort from Tia.

“Babe, the last thing she wants if she’s upset is all of us barging into her room half-drunk and hyper!”

As the others laugh, Tayce watches an ashamed little blush colour Ellie’s face. She shrugs and addresses her new flatmates as she heads towards the doorframe. “I’ll be five minutes tops. Then we can all get ready to go out.”

Tayce leaves and her plan makes the others give a little cheer of anticipation. She’s admittedly a little nervous, though. She doesn’t want to disturb her new flatmate if they just want to be left on their own, nor does she want to annoy them or give the impression of being too nosy. The only thing that keeps her approaching the room beside hers, however, is the knowledge that if it had been her in their position, she’d have wanted the same.

The door to the girl’s room is slightly ajar, but Tayce still knocks before she pushes it open a little. She doesn’t hear a “go away” or a “piss off”, so she takes that as a cue to go inside. As the room is gradually revealed to her, Tayce realises that Bimini was right when they said she must have been there for a while- the room is more or less fully decorated. There’s a string of pink fairy lights which gives the room a soft, warm glow, and photos are stuck to most available surfaces. A rose gold Macbook sits on the desk beside a little money plant in a dark green pot, and there’s stationary all perfectly laid out too. Everything is tidy and neatly in its place, and on top of the bed with its palm leaf printed duvet cover and pillows a girl is sitting curled up into a ball, hugging a well-worn cuddly toy cat to her chest which is immediately discarded under her pillow when she realises Tayce’s eyes are on her.

“Hey,” Tayce begins softly, acutely aware she’s intruded on an emotional moment. “Do you mind if I come in?”

The girl swipes two perfectly applied acrylics under her lashes, snuffles and gives a forced smile. “No, of course! No. It’s fine, come in.”

Tayce smiles tightly as she crosses the room, perches on the edge of the girl’s bed awkwardly. “I’m Tayce, by the way.”

The girl takes a little breath and composes herself. Her makeup is still perfect save from the small black smudges at her lower lash line and the way a little bit of her foundation has rubbed off on her nose. Her smile grows a little more genuine as she introduces herself to Tayce in her Northern accent. “I’m Aurora. Sorry, this is so embarrassing!”

“Oh, babe, don’t worry,” Tayce reassures her, shaking her head. “Honestly I was almost like that leaving my parents as well. Only reason I wasn’t was because I had the others to take my mind off things.”

“Still, not exactly a cracking first impression I’m making. Hiding in my room like a freak,” Aurora rolls her eyes at herself, stretching her legs a bit so they’re not hugged at her chest. She gives a little sigh. “Just…it was hard leaving my sister. We’re really close and I’ve not been away from her like this before. Longest was probably a week on year six camp and I cried like a baby every night then as well. Good to know not much has changed.”

Tayce smiles gently at her joke. “It’s alright, I don’t think I’ve matured much since I was in year six either.”

Aurora lets out a genuine giggle and tucks her long, blonde hair behind her ears. Knowing she’s helped her feel a little better reassures Tayce that coming to see her was the right thing to do.

“Probably a good thing that you decorated your room first anyway. I still haven’t made my bed, that’s a job for drunk me coming in tonight,” Tayce continues, heartened as Aurora laughs again. “You’re gonna hear me stumbling around with a sheet over my head like a Scooby-Doo ghost.”

“I’d offer to help but my goal for the night is to get so drunk that I forget about missing my family entirely, or that I even have a family. Or that I’m even a sentient human being.”

“Oh, that’s the goal right there. First night of freshers, gotta go big or go home,” Tayce winks, and the pair of them share a smile.

“So wait, are you next door to me then?” Aurora asks, tilting her head with intrigue.

“I’m on that side, Bimini’s on your other side,” Tayce points at each wall in turn, and Aurora nods. Tayce bounces a little on the bed as she slaps her lap decisively. “Speaking of, d’you want to come meet everyone?”

Tayce can see the uncertainty and hesitation on Aurora’s face. She clearly notices Tayce watching her, because she meets her eyes and gives a bashful sort of smile. “God, honestly, I promise I’m not normally this shy. I’m just scared that everyone thinks I’m a total weird bitch for hiding in my room.”

“They don’t at all!” Tayce protests, smiling kindly at Aurora as she insists. “They’re all lovely, honestly. Bimini is so fun already, Tia is really nice and so’s Ellie, and it’s impossible to be sad when Lawrence is around, she’s hilarious. C’mon, I’ll go with you.”

“God, I’ve probably ruined all my makeup,” Aurora moans, sliding off her bed and crossing the room to look at her reflection in the mirror. She turns around to face Tayce as she speaks again. “Do I look like total shit? You have to be honest with me, we’re flatmates.”

Tayce laughs at Aurora’s joke, and she looks properly at her flatmate. She’s got these big brown eyes and long lashes and Tayce is already a little jealous of both of them. Her lips are full and her nose is small and her skin is clear and glowing.

She’s really pretty.

“You look lush,” Tayce smiles supportively, putting a hand on the doorhandle and making to open it. “Don’t be nervous. I’ll even be your government assigned emotional support flatmate tonight, if you want.”

“Tonight? I think I’ll need one every night,” Aurora laughs bashfully, tucking her hair behind her ears again. “This was really kind of you, y’know. Thanks, Tayce.”

Tayce opens the door and holds it open for her, glad she’s drawn her new flatmate out of her shell and excited for the first night of freshers to properly begin.

“No worries. Let’s go get drunk.”

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #ortega #me and you together #taywhora #uk2 #lesbian au #university au #british au #college au #freshers au #roommate au #tayce #a'whora #friends with benefits to lovers #lawrence chaney #ellie diamond #bimini bon boulash #tia kofi

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onechicagorpf · 4 years

Text

Not A Stranger - Part 4

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader (Chicago Med intern)

Waking up in bed next to a random naked guy after a drunken night out usually sucks, but eh, whatever. you’ll never see him again, right? Well except this time, random naked guy turns out to be your ED attending’s little brother, so maybe you’re a little bit screwed…

Read Part 1 here Read Part 2 here Read Part 3 here

Warnings: Very mild mentions of sex. Swearing, the usual cuss words.

A/N: The final chapter! Woohoo! Honestly I was having so much trouble with this chapter - I actually ended up writing about 7k words total of 3 completely different plots when I suddenly got this idea yesterday and I decided to go with this one. Anyway, thank you SO MUCH for all of y’all who’ve showed the previous 3 parts so much love! I really appreciate it so much!

PS: Send me asks/messages/leave a note if you liked this and want to see more - it really makes me feel so much less insecure about my writing ahaha! Also do send me short prompts or requests that I can fill as blurbs (i.e. nothing that’s going to be a several chapter story - I will request those later on!) - preferably for Jay but I can do Will as well! Female!Halstead sibling is also okay :) Enough talking, enjoy!

The music is so loud you can barely hear your own thoughts. Or your own voice.

“HELLOOOOOO! BARMAN!” You yell at the guy making drinks 5 feet away from you. Your body is almost entirely atop the counter as you lean forward, trying to grab his attention. The couple next to you throw you a dirty look, but who cares? You’re 3 shots in, and you’re –

“ – drunk as fuck!” Lucy shouts in your ear, trying to pull you up so you straighten.

“What?” You slip off the counter and land back on your feet, wobbly. Your best friend shakes her head. “You’re drunk as fuck! How is that even possible? You barely had anything!” Lucy looks disappointed.

You laugh – a high-pitched drunken squeal – and lean in.‌ “I haven’t gone out in like, four weeks, y’know! My tolerance is down!”

Lucy throws her hands in the air, almost knocking a drink out of someone else’s hand. They yell at her, but she doesn’t notice or care. “This is why I ask you to come party with me like every week, bitch!”

You waggle your finger in front of her. Or, you try to. You’re tipsy enough that standing straight is a little difficult so you keep swaying, and you’re also fairly confident you’re seeing two of Lucy right now.

“The last time I went out with you, I got plastered and woke up next to – ”

“A total hottie! WOOO!” Lucy exclaims, shaking her fists in excitement.

“Yeah except he was also my boss’s brother, but okay.”

The bartender finally comes to you and Lucy, dropping two shots in front of you exasperatedly. You and Lucy each down one. When you flip the shot glass upside down on the counter, you can almost feel yourself losing what little awareness and sobriety was in you.

The music changes and Lucy’s eyes light up. “This is my song!” She howls, before starting to obnoxiously (and very much off-key) belt out lines. She grabs your hand, trying to lead you to the dance floor. You wave her off, saying you’ll be right behind her in a minute, and she nods before heading off.

Turning back to the counter, you lean against it dependently as you struggle with your clutch. You curse under your breath as your fingers repeatedly slip against the clutch opening, even though you had zero trouble opening it when you were sober two hours ago. Finally, your clutch opens, and you pull your phone out. Immediately, your fingers tap the messaging icon, and press on Jay’s name.

No new messages.

“Ugh,” You groan, dropping your head down in your hands. Your phone beeps randomly, but you ignore it in favour of moping.

It’s been about two weeks since that night. Two weeks since you told Jay he was ‘just some guy you were sleeping with’.

Two weeks of complete radio silence.

“Come on, don’t you want to say something to me?” You bitch out loud, glaring at the back of your phone. “I know I fucked up, I know I said mean shit, but my god, I didn’t fucking mean it – I was just. I was stupid and scared…and now I’m at the Verge again and I’m drunk, I’m soooooo drunk and my friend is – oh, she’s making out with some dude! Fuck, I was gonna ask her to book me an Uber but now I can’t and I don’t even know where my Uber app is on my phoneeeeee - ” You whine – a real full-on, high-pitched drunken whine – as you turn your phone screen around.

Voice message recorded.

Voice message sent.

“Huh?” You frown at your screen, trying to figure out what you just did, when someone knocks into you and you teeter over, almost face planting on the counter. “Fuck!” You curse, straightening and trying to look around for who did that, when a blonde head suddenly appears in view.

“Okay listen this is Alex and he’s a cutie and he wants to take me home but I gotta check if you’re okay?” Lucy informs you with the immediacy of a someone about to miss their last bus to work. You want to beg her to stay, but a) you ditched her last time when you saw Jay and she didn’t hold it against you, b) she was insistent that she had to get laid tonight, and c) Alex was hella cute.

“Get it girl!” You cheer, kissing her on the cheek and she beams. Once she exits, Alex in tow, you look around not sure what to do.

“HEY BARGUY? CAN I HAVE ANOTHER?”

***

It’s 30 minutes later that the bartender finally cuts you off and tells you in no uncertain terms that you have to go somewhere else if you want to keep drinking.

“Rude!” You exclaim into the cold air as you exit the back of the bar into a dark alley. “Fucking – I’m not even that drunk, that asshole. Like I don’t know my own limits?” You bitch to yourself as you wobble down the alley in your stupidly high stilettos. Bright lights suddenly shine at you, and you cover your face with your arms. “Motherfuck – !” You squint, trying to see which moron decided to flood the alley with his headlights.

“Jesus Christ,” You hear, and you almost immediately turn sober. You’d recognise that voice anywhere.

The lights go down, and just as your eyes adjust you see Jay Halstead exit from his GMC Sierra. Dressed in a black v-neck and dark jeans – god, does he own any colour in his wardrobe? – he steps towards you, a tight look on his face that’s otherwise devoid of any emotion.

“Why’re you here?” You ask, trying to hide the fact that your heart is beating so loud and fast you feel like you can hear it in your ears.

Jay stops in front of you, raising an eyebrow. “You called.”

You frown. “No I didn’t.”

Jay pulls out his phone and presses a button. You hear your own voice saying something about being drunk and not being able to order an Uber.

“That’s not – I didn’t – how the fuck…” You just trail off, confusion written all over your face.

“Well, I’m sure you’re not the first person to drunkenly send a voice message asking someone to come pick you up.” Jay supplies, pocketing his phone. There’s a note of judgement in his voice and you don’t appreciate it.

“Hey, I didn’t ask you to come and pick me up! I’m fucking fine!” You announce, before shoving Jay to the side and walking past him.

“You’re swaying like a leaf in the wind, you know?” Jay comments, behind you.

“Fuck you!” You swivel around sharply, pointing an accusatory finger at him, which proves to be a bad decision when you trip sideways and just about slam your shoulder into the alley wall. The only reason you don’t is that Jay lunges forward and grabs your arms, pulling you to him.

There’s a moment of silence.

“I’m not that drunk, it’s just my shoes, I swear.” You mutter into his chest. It’s true – almost. You were a little wasted when you exited the bar, fine, but in the same way that drunk people can get immediately sober once they see, say, a train collision, the sudden shock of seeing Jay seems to have burned through the fog in your mind.

You’re not sure what that says about your feelings for him...

The two of you separate, but Jay’s still holding you at an arm’s distance. As he looks down at you, he frowns. “What…are you wearing?” He asks in a judgemental tone.

You look down at yourself – it’s a short, red figure-hugging dress with side cut-outs. Looking back at him, you respond: “A dress.”

Jay snorts derisively. “Not exactly leaving a lot to the imagination.” He mutters under his breath.

“Hey!” You raise your voice, and take a step towards him to – to punch his arm or something – but once again your heels fail you and you just topple straight into his chest.‌ “Fuck!” You shout, cheeks burning, and you push back from him. Bending over, as gracefully as you possibly can in your tiny dress, you try to get your stupid shoes off. Meanwhile, the sound of Jay’s laughter is in the air and you throw a dirty look at him.

After watching you struggle with the straps of your heels for about a minute, Jay crouches down in front you. “Alright, alright, hold on,” He says. Getting on one knee, he tells you to stand and you do.

Jay’s hands wrap around your right ankle gently, and his fingers move deftly, undoing the multiple straps of the heel. You place your left hand on his shoulder, steadying yourself, and try hard to breathe regular. The feeling of his fingers against your skin is tantalising, and the sight of him crouched down before you is putting racy thoughts in your mind.

Without even thinking about it, you move your hand to hold his face.

Jay looks up at you as you run your thumb over his cheek. He holds his breath as the pad of your thumb gently swipes against his pink lips.

Bending over, you lean downwards and capture Jay’s lips in yours.

The kiss is gentle and sweet for all of three seconds, before you run your tongue over Jay’s lips and he escalates it. Starting from your ankles, his hands run up the back of your legs as he gets up. Once he’s halfway up the back of your thigh, Jay swiftly stands, lifting you effortlessly. You hook your legs around his waist like a good girl and continue the heated, ravaging kiss. Jay holds you against him with just his right arm – and my god, are you ready to come just from that because holy fuck how strong is this guy to be carrying you with one arm! – as his left hand grabs your jaw in that authoritative, bossy way that has your head spinning.

You know you shouldn’t be doing this, you know it’s going to hurt so bad when he leaves, you know the smart thing to do is to put a stop to this - to stop being with the one guy you can’t have; the one that sees you as a hookup and nothing more. But god, the way he makes you feel, the way he kisses you like he’s taking your soul – so hard and deep and yet so passionate – and the way he holds you to him like you’re his…the way he’s got your toes curling, he’s got you not giving a fuck that you’ve got one heel on and the other…somewhere on the ground – fuck, you’re so fucking gone for him.

He walks, steady and confident, and you don’t know where he’s taking you until he drops you against the hood of his truck.

You’re panting heavily, your hair fanned out around your head as you lick your lips, your pulse thundering between your legs. Jay looks down at you with nothing but lust in his eyes, before grabbing the back of your thighs and pulling you toward him roughly so that your ass is right at the edge of the hood, Jay’s hips right between your legs. The movement causes your already short dress to ride up even more, and now it’s bunched up around your hips. The cool air of the nice is cold against your legs, and especially cold against the growing wet patch at the crotch of your panties.

You look up at Jay – your eyes wide with salacious want, a desperate need for him, to touch you, fuck you, come for you –

A cacophony of sounds is suddenly in the air. A group of people are exiting the bar, loud and boisterous.

And just like that, the moment between you and Jay is over. You sit up at lightning speed, getting off the hood of his truck, pulling your dress down just as Jay steps back, swearing under his breath.

The group take their own sweet time to leave the alley, to get out of sight, and you’re so impatient you briefly consider tossing your other shoe at them to get them to move faster.

Eventually, the last of them turns the corner and you let out of a breath of relief. You turn back to Jay, opening your mouth, and he just shakes his head.

“No, no, no.” Jay runs his hands through his hair, looking agitated. He sighs deeply, before looking straight at you with the most apologetic look on his face. “We can’t be doing this, Y/N. I’m sorry, but...I can’t.”

Your entire body goes cold.

You shake your head, eyes pleading. “Jay, no – I’m not drunk I swear – ”

“It’s not that, Y/N – ”

“Then what is it? What did I do wrong?” You whisper, reaching towards him.

“It’s nothing you did.” Jay smiles ruefully. “It’s something I did.”

You frown. “What did you do?” Jay doesn’t answer, instead just walking past you.

You grab his arm, stopping him. Jay turns, his green eyes slightly wet, mouth open but you cut him off.

“What did you do? Dammit Jay, stop shutting me out!” You exclaim, begging, and the two of you are so close now you can see Jay’s pupils dilate, and a pained expression fixes itself onto his face and it kills you seeing him this upset.

“I caught feelings for you.” Jay whispers, and your heart stops. “You said I was just some guy you were sleeping with…that you didn't feel like that about me and – and I was going to put distance between us, I swear.” Jay sighs, and you just try to keep up with what he’s saying but it’s tough because you feel like your head is underwater, like you can’t breathe.

Jay doesn’t notice any of this, and he continues. “But then you called tonight and I heard your voice and I don't know what it is about you but I just – I just lose my mind. I was halfway down the block before I even realised I was coming to get you. And that night you came over – you were under me, taking me so well and so hot I didn't even think before – I just went so hard on you because I wanted you so fucking bad – Y/N I want you so fucking bad, all the fucking time – ” Jay’s shaking his head, his voice is cracking, there’s tears in his eyes and you – you just –

“I'm going to fucking kill you.” You announce, and Jay closes his eyes.

“Y/N – ”

“Jay, I'm in love with you.” You admit, your voice clear as can be, and Jay’s eyes open, stunned. “I thought you thought I was just some hookup – ”

A deep frown embeds itself between Jay’s eyebrows, “Why the fuck would you think – ”

You raise your voice, slightly affronted. “I asked you about the Army! And you didn't open up to me and I thought – ”

“Oh my god – ” Jay drops his head in his hands.

“How was I supposed to know you felt the same way – ”

“I didn't tell you about that shit because I hate it! Y/N, nothing good came out of my time over there and I saw that look on your face when you found my scar and you looked horrified – ”

“Of course I was horrified – someone stabbed you!” You exclaim, your voice high, your breathing erratic. Jay looks at you, and he’s also breathing heavy...but slowly, his face just splits into a smile. You smile too.

Both of you lean in, pressing your lips together. Jay’s arms wrap around you, tight, and your hands cradle his face as the two of you sink into one another in an intimate, tender moment. Your heart feels like it’s weightless – all the happiness in the world resides within you, for a moment, and the feeling of Jay around you – your Jay – brings tears to your eyes.

When you separate, you barely move – your faces are still so close, Jay looking down at you with all the fondness in the world, and you looking back up at him, teary-eyed.

“I need to get my shoe.” You whisper, the first one to break the silence. Jay laughs, throwing his head back. You laugh with him, a giant grin on your face, as he gently rests you atop the hood of his truck again before running to retrieve your lonesome heel.

He tosses it to you and you grab it. “Do you want a kiss for that?” You ask him, smiling sweetly.

“Oh, one hundred percent.” Jay grins back, and you throw your arms around his neck. “One more thing – ” Jay interrupts you just as you pull close, and you raise your eyebrows.

“Yes?”

Jay scrunches up his face. “Someone needs to tell Will.

You roll your eyes. “You’re scared of that?”

“Hey, he’s not your big brother. I’ll bet my entire savings account he’s going to give the shovel talk to me, his own blood.” Jay counters, and you laugh. “Well, he’s a gentleman like that,” You say, slipping your hands into Jay’s pocket to pull out his phone.

Jay gazes at you with amusement in his eyes as you type a few sentences – out of his sight – and send it to Will.

“Done!” You announce cheerily.

Jay raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure – ” He’s cut off by his phone buzzing in your hand. It buzzes again. It then buzzes a third time, before it starts ringing.

“Three messages and a phone call, in 30 seconds. That’s never good news.” Jay notes, a strained expression on his face. “What exactly did you tell him?”

You shrug, pretending to be innocent. “Well, I definitely didn’t say anything along the lines of ‘Hey I’ve been bedding your intern for the last few weeks behind your back, and yes we definitely had sex the night you came over for hockey. Anyway, we’re a thing now. Bye!’.”

Jay drops his head. “Oh my fucking god – ” His phone goes off again, and Jay just curses, shutting it off. “Y/N – he’s going to kill me.” He says, eyes wide with incredulity. You just giggle, pulling him close to kiss him again. You heart soars as you feel Jay smile through the kiss. ***

Tag List: @elliee1497 @scorpiomindfuck @lookatallthefeels

#jay halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x reader #chicago pd imagine #chicago med imagine #onechicago imagine #onechicago #cpd imagine

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chaseatinydream · 4 years

Text

sly san who sacrifices (v) || c.s (atz)

➳ pairing: reader x choi san (ateez)

➳ word count: 3849

➳ genre: badboy au; fluff; angst

➳ synopsis: to the school, he may be a bad boy, the worst of the worst, but to you, he’s choi san, father of three cats, your best friend and ultimately, the boy you’re in love with.

>>>

Phone in hand, you run for the club as fast as you can.

Your feet slap against the wet pavement, little ripples in the puddles of rain left in your wake as you rush towards your destination, eyes glued to the glowing screen of your phone, fixed firmly on that tiny blinking red dot. Your legs are burning from the expected strain of them, but you don’t let up till you’re at the main entrance of the building that San is at.

Neon strobe lights hurt your eyes and you can already hear the raucous timbre of the disco music being blasted inside, the sound reverberating out onto the street outside. You spot the to be party goers mingling behind the red rope, chattering excitedly and dressed to the nines in killer outfits that shine brighter than your future and probably cost more than your college education.

This is definitely not your scene.

Swallowing, you glance down at yourself… you hadn’t really been thinking straight when you’d left the house, you’re dressed in a simple pair of shorts and a tee, nothing too scrappy but definitely not anything suitable for a night out at a club. A groan leaves you and you stare at the daunting sight before you once again, chewing nervously at your bottom lip as you contemplate turning back… and maybe just confronting San another day…

But then you snap back to your senses and give yourself a little slap, because what if this is your last chance? What if after tonight, San tells you he doesn’t want to speak or see you anymore? As unrealistic as it sounds, as irrational as your fears are, if there’s even the slightest chance it could happen, you’re not taking it – Choi San is worth more than your pride.

So you gather your courage, square your shoulders, and march to the main entrance at very front of the line.

Instantly, the mindless chattering all around you falls silent, so silent you could hear a pin drop on the wet asphalt. Panic and just sheer awkwardness crawls over your introverted skin, you weren’t made for places like this! But you force your unease down and meet the bouncer in the eye, he’s a hulking mass of steely muscle with a glint in his eye that almost scares the shit out of you literally (and probably would have if you hadn’t remembered that you had a mission to accomplish here).

He looks you up and down with a dismissive eye, barely needing to incline his head, he’s so tall. Then he leans down the slightest bit to look you directly in the eye with a near frightening stare, muscles in his neck rippling. “The end of the queue is over there, little girl.”

You swallow involuntarily, a bead of sweat running down the back or your neck and sliding down your clothes, the weight of everyone’s gazes on your back is highly uncomfortable but you ignore it in favour of keeping your gaze even and your voice steady. “I’m here to find a friend.”

“I don’t care what your reason is, in case you didn’t hear me the first time, the back of the queue is there.” The bouncer enunciates more slowly for you this time, as if you’re the one who’s drunk. “I can’t let you in unless the queue is gone, kid. There are plenty of people who want to get into this club who’ve been out here waiting since dusk.”

Your fingers twist in the hem of your shirt from nerves as you desperately try to think of a way out, unsure of what else you could do to make the man let you in. Glancing back at the queue, you’re horrified to see that it stretches around three blocks and disappears down a street, further than your eye can see. Waiting isn’t a viable option, but you don’t really have another choice unless it’s…

You force a polite smile on your face to mask the sheer panic you feel and meet the bouncer in the eye; he does not look the least bit amused. “I’m looking for Choi San.” You manage to say without bumbling like a complete fool, but using San’s name does seem to have its intended effect.

The bouncer’s eyes widen imperceptibly in surprise, just enough for you to notice up close. Then his eyebrows pinch together and his mouth pulls downwards in an unamused scowl. “It’s impossible for a person like you to know Choi San. Don’t lie to me, kid.”

You dig the bracelet out of your pocket and shove it in his face, from the way his lips part with a little intake of breath you know he must have seen it before and part of you is… happy... that he recognises it, for some strange reason. “I’m here to return his bracelet to him and then I’ll get out of your hair. Now, are you going to let me in or not?”

You’re not used to being so confident and out there, but there’s a rush of adrenaline flowing through your veins right now from the anticipation. The bouncer’s eyes narrow and for a long moment, you hold his sharp gaze evenly, unwilling to back down till he lets you in.

He backs down first with a sigh, moving towards to the rope that holds the door closed, unhooking it and ushering you inside. Behind you, you can hear angry protests of the people standing in the line, but you ignore them in favour of stepping into the club, eager to get to where San is.

The bouncer grabs your wrist with a warning glare and you whirl around to stare at him in confusion. “If something happens to you in there, missy, it’s not on me. Don’t get into any trouble and get out as fast as you can.”

You grin at him. “Thanks.”

Then you duck inside before he can say anything else.

Immediately, all five of your senses are assaulted by loud noises and bright lights coming from every direction. Bright purple neon juxtaposed against cool black leaves your eyes reeling from the colour contrast, the smell of smoke, sweat and even more alcohol so heavy and thick in the air you can taste it on your tongue. Biting on your lower lip in an attempt to remain calm in the midst of a mass of sweaty, gyrating human bodies, you stand on tip toes and try to search the dark, flickering room for San.

It proves to be a near inhuman feat. Groaning, you pull out your phone and search the map once again, sure enough, your little blue dot has overlapped with San’s red one to form a blinking purple circle, indicating that he is indeed here at this club… but where is he?

“Hey, little missy. This doesn’t look like your scene.” A voice comes from behind you and you jerk in surprise, whirling around to see someone standing there against the wall, exuding such an air of casual confidence that you can’t help but be blown away by it. His hair is blond and tousled into waves, held away from his forehead by a black bandanna to show off beautiful, dark eyes that remind you of sweet, sweet danger. Every instinct goes on high alert instantly and you actually find yourself taking a step back to take him in, he’s dressed in an all black ensemble that’s simple and stylish at the same time.

He meets your eyes with a smirk that you, for some reason, don’t find sleazy and cocks his head to the side playfully, teasingly. “What are you doing here dressed like that, darling?”

You’re on guard around him, tense, and he can see it, he enjoys it. He hasn’t moved an inch but you feel like you’re the one who’s been backed into a corner like a trapped animal, dangerous tension sparking between the two of you as you meet each other’s eyes.

“I’m here for a friend.” You spit out, suddenly desperate to get away from this man that practically oozes danger and appeal all at once. There’s a look in his eye that makes unease bubble in the pit of your stomach and when he takes a step forward, you actually flinch, every muscle in your body getting ready to run.

“Oh? Where is he then?” The man continues stepping closer and closer, and you practically freeze on the spot when he comes within an arm’s length of you. You can feel his hot breath against your cheeks, smell the slight scent of cologne and smoke clinging to his warm skin, feel the heat radiating off him. You don’t even realise you’re moving backwards till you’re backed into the wall, so completely taken by the sheer intensity of his gaze.

He leans in close but never quite touches you, only letting his words brush your bare skin as one hand comes up beside your head, he’s too close for your liking, too seductive than what you can deal with. “Why don’t we leave this place, darling, just you and me– ”

You’re about to cut him off mid-sentence politely, saying that you really need to look for your friend, but he never gets a chance to finish his sentence.

“Get the hell away from her, Wooyoung!”

Your eyes fly open in surprise at the sound of that voice and in the next second, the man is ripped away from you violently and thrown against the wall to your side. Your hands fly over your mouth to prevent the shout of horror from escaping you, but the blond doesn’t seem the least bit fazed at the sight of your best friend pinning him to the wall by the neck.

“What the hell were you doing to her?” San snarls venomously, digging his forearm into the blond’s throat. The blond simply looks down at him with a cocky grin, completely unrepentant as he shrugs. “What does it matter to you?”

San’s face twists in fury at those words frighteningly quick, you feel every drop of blood drain from your face when he raises a fist–

“San!” You cry out, running to his side and yanking on his arm as hard as you can. You’ve never seen San like this, so dark and filled with rage that it almost scares you. “He wasn’t doing anything to me! Stop it!”

San hesitates, fingers clenching and unclenching as he considers your words, the impulsive white hot rage burning behind his eyes simmering ever so slightly. Then he rips his hand from the blond and storms out of the club, leaving the blond rubbing the bruises on his throat with an exaggerated sigh.

“I’m sorry!” You bow once quickly and turn around to chase after San before he can disappear before your eyes again.

The blond sighs at the mess around him and gestures for all the onlookers to get back to their business, making his way over to the bar counter and seating himself on one of the seats there. “Some ice please, Mr Bartender.” He fingers the bruise at his adam’s apple with curiosity, an amused smile tugging on his lips. “I haven’t seen San-ie this worked up since we got expelled from our old school. It’s rather fun to watch him, isn’t he?”

“You shouldn’t have provoked him like that, Wooyoung-ah.” A smooth baritone tells him dryly as he slides a mojito over to him with a disapproving frown. Wooyoung merely grins as he scoops out two ice cubes and holds them to his throat, feeling the cold numbing the ache there, but the adrenaline he feels rushing through his body right now makes it so worth it. “You knew who she was to San, don’t lie to me. It’s like you’re trying to get yourself killed.”

“If I hadn’t done that, that coward would have tried to escape the club. I saw him moving towards the back doors when she came, so I just put on a little show for him to watch. It worked.” Wooyoung shrugs, raising the glass to his lips and taking a mouthful of his drink. Then he yelps and spits it into the potted plant next to him as fast as he can, mouth puckering uncontrollably. “That was the sourest thing I’ve tasted my entire life! What the hell, Yeosang? We’ve been friends for four years and this is how you treat me?”

Yeosang snorts as he wipes his glasses down with a clean cloth, shaking his head. “It’s precisely because we’ve been friends for four years that I’m doing this. You need to stop living so on the edge, it’s going to get you dead in a ditch one day.”

Wooyoung simply shrugs. “I’ll be fine.” Then he winces and presses the ice cubes a little more firmly against his skin, muttering under his breath. “If that little shit doesn’t get back together with her by tomorrow morning, I’m going to wring his neck for him, the fool.”

Yeosang looks over at his friend from behind the counter and rolls his eyes, but there’s a good-natured smile on his lips.

“San!”

Outside, you chase after San into a dark alleyway behind the club, before he can take another step you grab his wrist firmly with both hands and yank him backwards. He nearly stumbles at the force of your insistence, unbalanced from drink and alcohol, but finally turns around to face you, head hanged and not quite meeting your eye, clearly uncomfortable.

“What were you doing here?” San mumbles, words slightly slurred and barely loud enough for you to hear. “Weren’t you supposed to be studying at home with…” He falters for a moment and you frown in confusion, how has he forgotten the name of his own friend?

“Seonghwa and I were studying, but you were acting weird this morning so I went over to your house to ask you what was going on! Claude told me you weren’t at home so I came over to find you myself, only for you to almost get into a fight with someone else–”

San snorts, slumping against the wall with his eyes closed as he rubs his temples. “Wooyoung will be fine. That little bastard knew what he was doing the whole time, edging me on… it was a smart move, I’ll concede…”

You pause for a second. Wooyoung, Wooyoung, Wooyoung… the name sounds familiar… then it hits you. Your eyes widen and you stare at San in shock. “Isn’t Wooyoung that best friend of yours? Are you drunk? You nearly killed him! He didn’t even do anything to me!”

San’s face darken at your words, rising to his feet and lurching forward to stand dangerously close to you. But unlike with Wooyoung, you don’t feel the least bit of fear – San would never allow himself to hurt you, drunk or otherwise. “What the hell were you doing in a place like this, you idiot? What would you have done if Wooyoung wasn’t just playing around and if I weren’t there? Don’t you know you could get hurt?”

“But you were there.” You fire back, insistent. “That’s why I went there. I want to be where you are, is that so wrong?”

San groans, dragging a hand down his face. “The kind of places I go to are the places you shouldn’t be going to! Stay away from me, alright?”

But you’ve had enough of his nonsense and yank the bracelet from your pocket, shoving it in his face. His own eyes widen at the sight and he tries to snatch it from you, but you jerk it out of his reach and shove it back in your own pocket fiercely. “Is that why you took it off, San? I thought we had a promise! Best friends forever, remember?”

You’re furious, but every trace of anger evaporates in the next second, you’re completely stunned when you see a tear escape San, one at first, than two, then more and more, until San’s head is hung and you can’t see his eyes anymore, tears streaking down his cheeks and dripping to the ground. Horror overtakes you and you step forward, gripping his arm tightly. “San! San, what happened–”

Before you can say anything else, San yanks you into his chest and buries his face into your shoulder, trying to stifle his sobs. You’re still upset with him, but for now you just wrap your arms around him, the charms on your own wrist jingling. It’s not like San to be this emotional, you think worriedly… he must have had a lot more to drink than what you had thought. Then he speaks.

“I can’t belong to you anymore.” He mumbles into the crook of your neck brokenly, warm trails running down your shoulder. You utterly confused at his strange words, but then he continues and then you finally get it. “Seonghwa’s so much better for you, such a better person, he’s nice, he’s sweet, he’s kind… I want the best for you, I really do, but why can’t I stop selfishly loving you and just give you to him instead?”

Oh.

You don’t know what to feel for a second, every thought has fled your mind and you don’t know what to say, left wordless. San likes you. Choi San actually likes you. And he thinks you like Seonghwa.

This fool.

Your lips work to form words that you’re not even sure of, but before you can, you feel San slump against you, his weight resting on your shoulder and it’s all you can do to keep him upright, you can feel his snores against your skin. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry, instead you settle on doing both, a happy, weak chuckle escaping you as a single tear rolls down your cheek.

“Tell me that again when you’re sober, pabo.” You press a kiss to his temple and turn towards the mouth of the alleyway, pulling San along with you, his warm body pressed against yours. You hear San mumble drunkenly “morning?” under his breath, half asleep and completely knocked out, but you take another step forward, heart overflowing with emotions in this dark night.

Just until next morning.

You can wait that long.

The next morning, San’s eyes blink open, only to be pummeled in the face by a massive headache.

“Ow...” He groans, hunching over on the bed as he presses his fingertips against his forehead, it’s throbbing, alright. Just exactly how much did he drink last night? He clearly had one too many... had Claude driven him back?

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tries to remember the events of the night before... he recalls drinking at the bar with Wooyoung and Yeosang, his shock at seeing you enter the club, searching for someone who could only be him... He remembers trying to run away, seeing Wooyoung brazenly flirting with you and making you feel uncomfortable, red filling his vision and then...

What?

What had happened?

You.

Where were you?

Panic crashes into him and he jumps out of bed as fast as he physically can, bare feet touching the wooden floorboards of your room... your room... San’s brain stops working altogether as he gapes at his surroundings... a vase of spring daffodils he had given you a few days ago at the desk... framed photographs of him, you and Seonghwa on the walls... your biology textbooks on the shelves...

A jingling noise catches his attention and he raises a hand to stare at his wrist in complete and utter shock. It’s his charm bracelet, the one with a bell, around his wrist.

How did that get there? He clearly remembers leaving that with Claude before he left the house... unwilling to look at it again...

He looks down, and he’s shirtless. He looks around. It’s your room. He looks down at himself again.

He’s still shirtless.

San screams.

“What happened?” You burst into the room, holding a spatula menacingly and wearing a worried expression on your face. San only screams louder, yanks the blanket up to his chest and wags a shaking finger at you, looking positively horrified. “I... We... Room... Bed-”

“No, we didn’t sleep together, idiot, I took the sofa.” You roll your eyes and step over with three quick steps to gently press a kiss to his cheek. San immediately halts all movement altogether, becoming as still as a statue with comically wide eyes and a mouth hanging wide open. He doesn’t even move when you step out of the room, and a little part of you feels satisfied that you’ve finally managed to get him back for all those times he’s teased you before.

When you finally return with a tray of warm soup, a glass of warm water and some Advil, San is still standing there, blankly staring into space with one hand pressed to his cheek. You tell him to sit and he does, staring at you in shock the whole time.

“Here.” You pass him the cup and the pills and he swallows them with a gulp of water, shaking his head to regain his bearings. When he looks at you once more, you smile warmly at him with a little, knowing glint in your eye that honestly frightens him a bit.

“How did I get here?” San manages to croak out, his throat raw from the alcohol the night before. You grin a little cockily at him and his heart stutters in his chest, you seat yourself opposite him and take his hand in yours.

San’s eyes widen slightly, you’re behaving uncharacteristically forward with him today. It takes him by surprise but you don’t seem the least bit fazed, instead leaning even closer to meet his eyes with the biggest, brightest grin on your face.

Everything is going into overdrive, he thinks, slightly dazed.

“Someone confessed to me last night.” You whisper confidentially into his ear, eyes so bright and smile so positively radiant that he can’t help but feel happy for you, even though he absolutely despises what this means: Seonghwa must have confessed to you yesterday while the two of you were studying... and he... and he...

You continue rambling with a grin and San allows himself to wallow in his own grief for a moment while you’re distracted. “I’m so happy, you know! Because I’ve liked him secretly for such a long time, but I thought he didn’t like me back... Hey, San! Are you happy for me?”

San snaps back into reality, forcing a smile on his face that he hopes passes for genuine as he nods slowly, eyes downcast. “Yeah...” He can’t meet your gaze right now.

Then, all of a sudden, you smile at him, intertwining your fingers with him and raising your interlocked hands for him to see, your bracelets touching. Your eyes find him, determined and burning with intensity, and his breath leaves him for a moment at the latent fire in your gaze.

“San, would you be mine?”

San chokes.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez san #ateez fanfiction #san fanfic #choi san #w; san #w; fanfiction

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darriness · 3 years

Text

Klaine Fic - Season of Happiness

Author: darriness

Rating: Explicit

Category: AU

Word Count: 11,172

Summary: A Christmas with the Anderson’s - what could possibly go wrong?

Author’s Note: So I started watching Happiest Season the other day and got inspired! I have only watched an hour of the movie though so far. Once it sparked this fic idea, I wanted to run with it without having to think about how closely it aligned with the movie. So any similarities, especially near the end, are coincidental. That being said, there are two lines from the movie I used in my fic word for word because I loved them so much (if you want to know which they are just ask and I'll tell you - I take no credit for them). As always this fic was beta'd by the lovely @darrenismydarcy but any left over errors are completely my fault! Enjoy and Happy Holidays!

AO3 Link

“There it is. There it is.” Blaine Anderson pants as he rocks his hips. Kurt Hummel, the man currently on the receiving end of Blaine’s thrusting hips, puts his hands into his hair as his noises become more desperate. He is so. Close. And Blaine knows it.

“Oh God, Blaine.” Kurt moans.

“Come on. Come. Come around my cock.” It’s those growled words that do it. Kurt feels everything in him tighten before it releases in blinding light and sparks.

He is aware of Blaine’s almost pained groan above him and after the initial wave of sensation is over, Kurt makes the concerted effort to squeeze his muscles as Blaine continues to thrust.

“Coming.” Blaine announces in a strained voice as he stills and Kurt hums at the pulsing sensation deep inside.

They are still but for their panting breath for several moments afterwards. Kurt is enjoying the little sparks of sensation still zinging all over his body and he has a feeling Blaine is about five seconds away from collapsing on top of him.

4, 3, 2, 1…

Blaine lets out a huff and his arms collapse under him so he’s lying on Kurt’s chest. Kurt smirks - he knows his boyfriend. Kurt brings his hands up to run them absently along Blaine’s sweaty back as the other man rests his cheek on Kurt’s sternum. He knows sooner rather than later Blaine will have to get up to dispose of the condom, but for now he’s going to wait until he can feel his extremities a little more and just enjoy this moment.

Six months in and it seems to only get better.

He met Blaine in a coffee shop, of all cliche places. Witty banter and flirty, coy smiles were exchanged and just like that Kurt had himself a date for the evening. Six months later finds the twenty-four year old men living together in Kurt’s small but impressively decorated one bedroom apartment in Brooklyn and more in love than either can really comprehend.

Kurt is forever thankful that he decided to stop at that particular coffee shop before work all those months ago.

Blaine brings him back to the present with a groan as he pushes off Kurt to quickly dispose of the condom before pulling the blanket up to cover them both and snuggling back in beside Kurt.

“Love you.” Blaine whispers.

Kurt turns with a smile, enjoying the way the passing lights from the street outside cause the light to play on Blaine’s beautiful face, “Love you, too.” He answers back.

Blaine gives a small smile, “And thanks for letting me do that.”

The comment makes Kurt actually laugh out loud, which makes Blaine’s smile grow bigger.

“You say that like it never happens.” Kurt says after he’s done laughing, “I’ve let you fuck me quite a few times.”

Blaine shrugs, “Yeah, but you much prefer to fuck me.”

It’s Kurt’s turn to shrug, “Fair point. But it’s not like I only let you top on your birthday and Christmas or anything. And don’t pretend you don’t prefer it the other way.”

Blaine smirks, “You are very talented with your hips.” He concedes which does wonders for Kurt’s ego, “But it’s close enough to Christmas so the whole ‘only let me fuck you on Christmas’ thing could hold water.”

Kurt snorts and rolls his eyes before looking back at Blaine who suddenly has a serious expression on his face.

“Speaking of Christmas…” Blaine starts and Kurt’s eyes widen slightly.

It’s not like he hadn’t been expecting this conversation. They’ve been dating for six months and living together for one. It’s the middle of December. He’s actually surprised the topic of their first Christmas together hadn’t come up sooner.

“Yes.” Kurt says, slowly.

Blaine bites his lip, “I was wondering if you’d...come to my parents place for the holiday.”

Something in Kurt’s chest instinctively tightens. Meeting the parents. For Christmas. It’s a lot.

It’s not like Kurt’s never met a boyfriend’s parents. He’s had two major relationships in his twenty-four years, both lasting two years, and he met the parents both times. It’s just that...the meeting hadn’t gone overly well either time. In fact, the disaster that was meeting Ethan’s parents was what had caused him and Kurt to break up.

It’s not that Kurt doesn’t want to meet Blaine’s parents - he and Blaine are serious enough to warrant a meeting for sure - he had just been hoping to avoid it a little bit longer.

He must not be answering quickly enough because Blaine picks his head up from where it had been resting on Kurt’s chest with a furrowed brow, “If you don’t want to, that’s okay. I know it’s a big step.”

Looking into Blaine’s round, large, hazel eyes, Kurt finds his heart melting and he smiles despite his misgivings, “I would love to spend Christmas with your family.” He says and the bright smile Blaine gives him is enough to know he’s made the right decision.

-- -- --

“No, Dad, I already told you. Blaine’s parents live in Westerville. We’ll spend Christmas Eve and Christmas morning with them and then we’ll drive to Lima and spend Christmas afternoon and the twenty-sixth with you and Carole.” Kurt is saying to his dad as he finishes packing his bag.

It’s not the first conversation he’s had with his father about the subject. This won’t be the first Christmas Kurt has had to divide his time, but it’s definitely not the norm, and Burt Hummel is having a difficult time with it.

His father coughs before grumbling, “Couldn’t it be the other way around?”

Kurt sighs and pauses in his packing, “Dad,” He says, “I already told you this, too. Blaine’s parents and brother are flying out to LA on Christmas Day.”

Burt sighs, “I know you told me, I just...want you here.”

Kurt pouts a little, “I know, Dad. But it’s the only way to make it work without Blaine and I spending Christmas apart. And it’s just easier to get both ‘meeting the parent’ moments out of the way.”

Burt huffs, “So now I’m something to be gotten ‘out of the way’?”

Kurt looks up at the ceiling, “Daaaaad.” He all but whines and this time Burt laughs.

“I’m just joking about that last one.” He says and Kurt feels some of the tension leave him, “Promise me you’ll FaceTime me on Christmas Eve at some point?” Burt asks.

Kurt nods, “Of course. Will Finn be around to help you figure out how to work FaceTime?” He asks.

“Hey now…” Burt says in warning and then the father and son are laughing.

“I’d better go, Dad.” Kurt says, “But I’ll see you in a few days.”

-- -- --

Kurt drums his fingers on the window ledge of the car as he looks out at the trees passing them by. They’ve been on the road for a few hours and while Kurt doesn’t necessarily want to speed up the time it takes to get to Blaine’s house and the meeting of his parents, he also wouldn’t mind if this car ride was shorter.

For whatever reason, Blaine has been tense the entire time. He’s kept both of his hands on the wheel, even going so far as to pull his hand back when Kurt had gone to grab it and bring it into his own lap, and he hasn’t said more than a single sentence in the last hour. Kurt has tried to ask if everything is okay but he just gets a nod and tight smile in return.

This can’t be a good start to this whole thing.

He figures Blaine is just nervous as well though, and decides not to push. He hums along with the radio and watches the scenery pass them by.

His phone rings in his pocket at one point and Kurt pulls it out to see his best friend Elliot’s name on the screen. He smiles as he turns the radio down and answers the call.

“Hey! Settling in okay?” He asks. He notices Blaine’s eyes flick from the road over to Kurt briefly before returning to look straight ahead.

“Definitely. Your place is amazing.” Elliot says. Kurt had asked Elliot to house sit while they were gone. It may only be four days, but Kurt wanted someone there in case something went wrong. Elliot would be staying in New York for the holidays and Kurt and Blaine’s apartment is only ten minutes from Elliot’s parents house. It worked perfectly, “But please tell me you changed your sheets before you left.”

Kurt lets out a laugh and lays his head back on the headrest, “Yes, we changed the sheets before we left.” He looks over to see Blaine smirk slightly.

“Excellent.” Elliot says, “So, on a scale of one to ten, how nervous are you right now?”

Kurt sighs and looks over at Blaine again who hasn’t looked away from the road but seems to be even more tense than before, “Like eleven.” Kurt confesses, “But I gotta go, El. We’ll talk soon.”

“Okay, but just do me one favour?” Elliot says.

“What’s that?” Kurt asks.

“Don’t pass up the opportunity to fuck that boy in his Star Wars sheets.”

Kurt can’t help but laugh out loud which draws Blaine’s attention, “Bye Elliot!” Kurt sings into the phone before hanging up on his laughing friend. He smiles down at the phone before turning to find Blaine’s eyes still on him. When their eyes connect, Blaine looks away and back to the road.

Kurt lays his head on the headrest, “Do you...have Star Wars sheets in your childhood bedroom?” He asks.

Blaine’s face scrunches in confusion before he shakes his head, “No. They’re green and burgundy.” He says.

“Damn.” Kurt whispers with a smirk.

“Why?” Blaine asks.

Kurt shakes his head, “Never mind.” Blaine isn’t in the mood for jokes right now Kurt can tell. He sighs and looks out the window, setting himself up for another few hours of silence.

A few moments later, Blaine sighs roughly, “Kurt...I have to tell you something.”

Kurt looks over at him in concern, “What’s up?” He asks.

Blaine presses his lips together and shakes his head before he sighs again, “I figured I should let you know, before we get to my parents place that….they don’t know we’re a couple.”

Kurt’s face pulls together in confusion, “What? They don’t? You haven’t told them we’re together?”

Blaine shakes his head, “No.”

Kurt immediately gets a bad feeling but he pushes it aside. Their romance has been a bit of a whirlwind and Blaine doesn’t really talk to his family so maybe he’s just waiting to tell them when they get there?

“So they’re going to find out we’re a couple when we get there?” Kurt clarifies.

Blaine swallows, “Not...exactly.”

Kurt begins to panic just a little, “Okay...you need to start saying more words.”

Blaine sighs and brings one hand from the wheel to rub his eyes, “I haven’t told my parents we’re together because...I haven’t told my parents I’m gay.”

Kurt feels all the air around him leave the car. He feels a tightness in his chest that makes him want to bring a hand up to massage it away.

He’s about to go into a home where not only does no one know he and Blaine are a couple but where no one knows Blaine is even gay. What in God’s name did he get himself into here?

He tries to tamp down his feeling of panic, considering the look of absolute nausea on Blaine’s face. He loves this man. There has to be a reason.

He swallows and shakes his head to clear it before turning to Blaine, “So...who do they think I am to you?”

Blaine looks over at him and squints, “You don’t want to know why my family doesn’t know I’m gay?”

“Oh, we’ll get to that.” Kurt says and Blaine winces, “But I need time to process what they think I am to you.”

Blaine shrugs, “They think you’re my roommate. That I moved in six months ago to help with the expenses.”

“Moved into my one bedroom apartment?” Kurt asks, incredulously.

Blaine winces again, “They don’t know it’s a one bedroom.”

Kurt sighs, “So, they’re just okay with your gay roommate crashing their Christmas?” Kurt is really getting tired of Blaine’s winces, “What?” He asks, annoyed.

“They...think you’re straight.” Blaine says.

Kurt just stares at him for a moment before huffing and gesturing to himself, “Oh yeah, you know everyone always tells me how much of a straight man I come across as!”

“Kurt, I didn’t know what to do! I was going to tell them before I brought you, but then my dad has this really important investor meeting tomorrow and I didn’t want to rock any boats before that. It’s important.” Blaine argues.

“And I’m not?” Kurt asks, hurt. He’s hurt. That’s the emotion he’s settled on. He’s hurt that Blaine didn’t feel enough about their relationship to tell his parents.

Blaine sighs and suddenly he’s pulling the car over. He puts them in park when he’s reached the shoulder and turns so his hand is resting on Kurt’s headrest and one of his knees is pulled up onto the seat.

“Kurt, you are the most important thing to me.” Blaine says and Kurt can’t deny the sincerity in his eyes, “It’s just, my family is...complicated. I’ve known I was gay since I was fourteen and yet I’ve never felt like I could be open and honest with them. But you...you make me want that. You make me want to tell them everything and to finally come out to them and live as authentically in their presence as I do everywhere else.”

Kurt crosses his arms and pouts but...Blaine’s got a point. It’s not like Blaine’s in the closet. Far from it. Their life in New York is as out as it can be, and for the most part they enjoy the same life any other couple does. There has to be a good reason why Blaine isn’t out to his family and Kurt doesn’t have the right to judge him for that.

He also gets a warm feeling in his stomach at Blaine’s words. Their relationship is making Blaine want to be open with his parents!

Kurt rolls his head on the headrest to look at Blaine, “I understand.” He says and he can see Blaine relax a little in relief, “But,” Kurt starts and Blaine looks back at him, “and not to sound at all like a bad teen movie or like I’m pressuring you at all, when were you planning on telling them?”

Blaine smiles even as he swallows nervously, “Christmas Eve. After my Dad’s dinner.”

Kurt looks at Blaine, the man he’s come to love over the past six months, and smiles, “Okay. I can play your straight roommate for one day.”

Blaine laughs and lets his head drop in seeming relief before smiling up at Kurt, “You are my favourite person.” He says, crossing the divide of the centre console to kiss Kurt.

Kurt kisses him back before pulling back to say, “I expect so much sex to make up for this though.”

Blaine laughs and lets his head drop on Kurt’s shoulder. After a moment, he picks it up to glance at the road around them. He seems to be considering something before he shrugs and smirks at Kurt, “Might as well start now.” He says, reaching for Kurt’s fly and lowering his head.

Kurt thinks about protesting but...they’re on a fairly deserted stretch of highway and, Oh God, Blaine’s mouth is magnificent.

-- -- --

“Blaine!” Mrs. Anderson shrieks as she pulls open the door Kurt and Blaine stand in front of. She’s a small woman, shorter than Blaine, with dark brown hair pulled back into a bun. She’s dressed immaculately for being home at 1 pm and Kurt can respect her for that.

She pulls Blaine into a hug and kisses both of his cheeks before pulling back and turning to Kurt, “You must be Kurt!” She says, reaching her hand out.

Kurt takes it, noting its delicacy, before smiling shyly, “I am. Thank you so much for having me, Mrs. Anderson.”

Mrs. Anderson waves a hand and laughs, “It’s no trouble. We couldn’t very well let you spend Christmas on your own!”

Kurt turns to Blaine, wondering what story Blaine had given his parents that he hadn’t filled Kurt in on. Blaine shrugs and smiles a little. Kurt will have to ask him later. He also notes that unlike his father, who had told all of Kurt’s friends and boyfriends to call him Burt, Mrs. Anderson hadn’t extended the same offer.

“Come in boys! You can get settled into your rooms before your dad gets home from work and Cooper, Amelia, and the kids get in.” Mrs. Anderson says, gesturing them into the house.

The outside of the house is nothing compared to the inside and the outside was quite spectacular. It’s more an estate then a simple house and Kurt had lost his breath for a second at the sheer size of the exterior. Inside, the house is perfectly and elegantly decorated. Kurt takes in the fine fabrics, crystal adornments, and beautiful artwork. It’s a show piece of a house, that’s for sure.

It’s after Kurt’s initial overview of the front rooms he can see that something Mrs. Anderson said catches his attention. Rooms. More than one. He and Blaine won’t be sleeping in the same room. It’s not something that had occurred to him until this moment. Even after Blaine had confessed in the car and then given Kurt the most amazing road head, Kurt had been too floaty to consider that for the next two nights he would be sleeping away from Blaine.

Blaine gives him an apologetic shrug as they are led up the stairs and down the hall. Mrs. Anderson opens a door on the right of the hallway and gestures inside, “Blaine, I washed your sheets so you’re good to go.”

“Thanks Mom.” Blaine says as he, Kurt, and Mrs. Anderson enter the room. It’s not really at all like Kurt had imagined it. It looks less like a teenage boy’s room and more what a design catalogue would tell you a teenage boy’s room should look like. He knows Blaine hasn’t lived in this room for many years, but something tells him not much has changed.

“And Kurt, you’ll be across the hall.” Mrs. Anderson says, gesturing for him to follow.

Kurt does and, indeed, just across the hall from Blaine’s room is a generic guest room. It actually doesn’t look much different from Blaine’s room except it’s lacking in the few personal touches he caught in Blaine’s - no pictures with friends, sports memorabilia, and if Kurt wasn’t mistaken, boxing gloves. The guest room is similar in colour to Blaine’s but it just has a bed, a dresser, and a window seat.

“Looks lovely.” Kurt says with a smile.

Mrs. Anderson smiles and runs a hand along the duvet as Blaine joins them, “Well, I’ll let you boys get settled in and then meet me in the kitchen. I’ve been baking and if you want the chance to decorate anything you might want to do that before Cooper and the kids get here!”

She leaves Kurt and Blaine alone in the guest room and Kurt drops his bag on the bed before turning to Blaine, “We haven’t slept apart in months.” He says.

Blaine puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs, “I know. I’m sorry.”

Kurt puckers his lips in thought, “However...you are just across the hall. I could always,” He starts, sidling up in front of Blaine and grabbing fistfuls of his sweater, “sneak in in the middle of the night.”

Blaine blushes and gulps but is prevented from answering when a loud crash sounds from downstairs followed by a booming voice, “I’m home!”

Blaine looks over his shoulder, “That would be my brother.” He says.

Kurt nods, dropping his hands and stepping back, “Well, then, let’s go say hello.”

-- -- --

Cooper Anderson, as Kurt is discovering after one afternoon in his presence, is just as handsome as his brother but so much more egotistical. Kurt hasn’t been able to finish a sentence while they decorate cookies without Cooper interrupting and providing a personal anecdote.

Blaine spends most of the afternoon rolling his eyes at his brother’s shenanigans while simultaneously playing footsies with Kurt under the table.

Cooper’s kids seem sweet enough. He’s got a five-year-old son named Dylan and an eight-year-old daughter named Ella. They laugh at Kurt’s jokes and politely ask for icing or candies to put on their cookies. Kurt counts those as wins. Cooper’s wife, Amelia, is quiet but pleasant.

Overall, it’s not a horribly spent afternoon.

Kurt does have to stop himself from reaching over for Blaine’s hand, or pressing a kiss to Blaine’s temple when he passes him something though. All the little things that have become commonplace in their interactions are now things he has to stop himself from doing. He’s never had to think this hard about how he interacts with Blaine, or anyone for that matter.

Blaine’s father comes home around 6 pm and their interaction is brief, void of emotion, but not hostile.

“Blaine, glad you’re home.” Mr. Anderson says, patting his son on the back after hugging Cooper, the kids, and Amelia.

Blaine nods, “Good to be home, Dad.” He says before gesturing to Kurt, “Dad, meet Kurt. My...roommate. Kurt, this is my dad, Bill Anderson.” Kurt is sure he’s the only one who catches the hesitation before ‘roommate’.

Mr. Anderson smiles benignly and reaches a hand forward, “Good to meet you, Kurt.” He says.

Kurt smiles, “Thank you for having me, Mr. Anderson.”

Mr. Anderson nods and then he’s gone. To his office Blaine informs Kurt. Kurt is fine with that. He felt a little as if he had just met a politician - all show but no substance.

Dinner that evening is a quiet affair. They order pizza which bemuses Kurt considering the posh surroundings he finds himself in, but he’s glad for the more relaxed meal.

When it’s time to get ready for bed, he and Blaine stand at the sinks in one of the upstairs washrooms brushing their teeth.

“So, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Blaine asks after he spits.

Kurt finishes a swipe of his toothbrush and spits himself before wiping his mouth with a towel and smiling, “Your family is really nice.” He says.

Blaine shrugs, “I mean, I know Cooper is a bit self-centred but he means well for the most part.”

Kurt nods as he inspects his skin in the mirror, “I can see that.”

Blaine sighs and places both hands on the vanity, “Why do I feel like we’re fighting?”

Kurt’s eyes widen and he turns to look at Blaine in alarm, “We’re fighting?” He asks.

Blaine’s eyes widen incredulously, “All day, since I told you about my family not knowing, I feel like you’ve been distant with me. And I thought you were okay with everything but now I’m not sure and just...tell me if we’re fighting.”

Kurt’s brow pinches, “I’ve been distant?” He asks and Blaine nods, “Well, of course I have! If I’m not distant then I kiss you randomly in the middle of cookie decorating, or drag you onto the first horizontal surface when you start playing footsies with me. I am fighting my every instinct right now so...yeah, maybe I seem a little distant. But I’m not mad at you. I’m trying to follow your wishes.”

Blaine looks at Kurt through the mirror with a pout on his face before he sighs and turns to pull Kurt to him. He buries his face in Kurt’s chest and wraps his arms around his waist. Kurt sighs and wraps his own arms around Blaine’s neck.

“I’m sorry. I’m just…” He pauses.

“Nervous?” Kurt asks.

Blaine nods into his chest before pulling back to look at him, “You make me want to be brave, Kurt. You make me want them to know about me. About us. But I’m also scared shitless of how they’re going to react.”

Kurt runs his fingers along Blaine’s hairline before smiling softly, “Can you do me a favour?” He asks.

Blaine nods, “Anything.”

“Don’t...tell them for me.” Blaine’s brow furrows in confusion and Kurt goes on, “Tell them because you want them to know you better. Don’t tell them because you want to prove something to me, or because you think I want you to. Do I love the fact that we’re both basically in the closet this weekend? Absolutely not.” Blaine blushes, “But,” Kurt continues, “Coming out shouldn’t be something you do on anyone’s timeline but your own, or for anyone else but yourself. I’ll still be here. Our life in New York will still be there.”

Blaine is nodding and Kurt can see tears forming in his eyes, “I love you so much.” Blaine whispers.

Kurt smiles, “I love you, too.” He says softly, “Now, let’s go to bed. Because the sooner everyone else is asleep the sooner I can sneak into your room.”

Blaine’s laugh makes Kurt’s heart feel lighter.

-- -- --

“Wait, you’re telling me Blaine’s still in the closet?” Elliot asks later that night. Kurt lies in the comfortable enough but nothing like his and Blaine’s own bed with his phone to his ear. He’s waiting for an appropriate time to sneak across the hall. He figures sometimes around 1 am should be sufficient.

Kurt sighs, “With his family, yeah.” He says, “He’s scared how they will react.”

“So, who do they think you are?” Elliot asks.

“His straight roommate.” Kurt whispers.

There’s silence on the other end of the line before Elliot coughs, “His family has met gay people before, right? Because, I love you honey, but passing...you are not.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, “They’ve known a gay person for twenty-four years and had no idea. I don’t think their gaydar is functioning properly. And I resent the insinuation that I can’t pass!”

Elliot chuckles, “I’m not saying you’re inability to pass is a bad thing! I admire you! I just can’t imagine how repressed these people are to look at you and think ‘Yes, I can believe this man has vaginal intercourse on the regular.’”

Kurt grimaces at the turn of phrase.

“You just grimaced at my use of the words ‘vaginal intercourse’, didn’t you?” Elliot says, knowingly.

Kurt sighs, “He’s just not ready to come out to his family.”

“I’m sorry, Kurt, but that’s a giant red flag.” Elliot says, but before Kurt can argue Elliot continues, “Look, I know coming out is a person’s own journey, but for him to be out in every other way other than his family? Something weird has to be going on. Do you really want to be in the middle of all that drama?”

It’s not like Kurt hasn’t thought of that. No matter the reason, Blaine’s family finding out he’s gay after all these years is bound to cause some drama. Does Kurt really want to be in the middle of it when it happens?

“I love him, Elliot.” Kurt answers and to him, that’s all the answer he needs to give, “And besides,” Kurt says with a shrug, “it’s kind of fun ‘sneaking’ around. There’s a delicious, albeit frustrating, tension.”

Elliot hums, “Well, you know there is nothing more erotic than concealing your authentic selves.”

“Elliot…” Kurt grumbles.

“All right, all right. That’s my last comment for the night. You know I always support you, right?” Elliot asks.

Kurt smiles, “I do. And that’s why I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Elliot says, “And your apartment. Have I mentioned how much I love your apartment?”

Kurt laughs, “Once or twice.” He glances at the clock, “Oooh! I should go. Blaine’s family should be asleep by now. I’m going to go get lucky.”

Elliot chuckles, “Enjoy!”

After Kurt hangs up, he sits on the bed without moving, listening intently to the sounds of the house around him. All is quiet so he very quietly gets out of bed and tip toes across the hall. He can honestly say this is the first time he’s had to sneak into a boyfriend’s bedroom. He figured at twenty-four the chance for that experience had passed him by. Obviously he’d been mistaken.

He eases Blaine’s door open and peaks inside. For all he knows, Blaine’s asleep himself.

He’s not though and Kurt smiles as he sees Blaine sitting up against the headboard of his childhood bed. His feet shuffle happily beneath the sheets when he sees Kurt and with the almost innocent smile on his face, Kurt has a flash of what it may have been like to know Blaine when they were sixteen and doing this exact same thing back then.

“You came!” Blaine enthuses quietly.

Kurt chuckles as he eases into the room and closes the door behind him, “You are too adorable.”

Blaine shrugs a coy shoulder and looks up at Kurt through his lashes, “Adorable or sexy?”

Kurt smirks, “Adorable.” He says, “But that doesn’t mean I’m not also going to come over there and devour you.”

Blaine’s mouth pouts around a smile, “Well, what are you waiting for?”

Nothing, Kurt thinks. I’m waiting for nothing.

He stalks to the bed and crawls up to kiss Blaine. Blaine sucks in a breath and cups his hands under Kurt’s jaw as he kisses back. It’s heated from the very start and Kurt’s hands smooth down Blaine’s sides as he straddles Blaine’s legs.

“I have been wanting to do that all day.” Kurt says when they pull back.

Blaine smirks, “I’m pretty sure even if my family knew about me, and us, you wouldn’t have been able to do THAT in front of them.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, “Can we not talk about your family when I’m trying to turn you on?”

Blaine sits up slightly and brings his mouth close to Kurt’s. He doesn’t kiss him but lets warm air puff across his lips, “You don’t have to try. I’ve been turned on all day.”

Kurt groans and presses their lips together while simultaneously grabbing the bottom of his shirt and pulling it over his head. Their lips barely disengage during the act and even more impressively they somehow find their way to a horizontal position without stopping the kiss either.

Kurt lines up their hips and presses down slightly into the hardening flesh he feels below him. Blaine lets out a stuttering moan before bracing his feet flat on the bed and returning the thrust.

Kurt hasn’t engaged in clothed frottage since college, and the dirty innocence of the act causes a shiver to run up his spine in the most delicious way. Everything about Blaine turns him on.

He’s just considering how best to get Blaine naked without stopping the delicious grind when somehow, over the noise of their breath, he hears a tap at the door.

He sits up like a shot and his eyes widen down at Blaine. Blaine for his part, pushes up onto his elbows with a disgruntled look on his face.

“Why’d you…” Kurt shushes him with a finger to his mouth and jerks a thumb over his shoulder to the door.

There’s another tap on the door and this time Blaine’s eyes widen.

“Blaine?” It’s Blaine’s father. Coming to his door at 1 a.m. and Kurt is currently straddling his son. His straight son for all Mr. Anderson knows.

Kurt and Blaine stare at each other, both trying to figure out what to do. Kurt’s not sure if Mr. Anderson will just walk in if Blaine doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t want to take the chance.

He quickly gets up from the bed and looks around the room. He notices Blaine’s closet and without thinking much he quietly makes his way over and into the smaller enclosure.

In the next moment, Kurt hears Blaine’s door open and thank God he’d thought to hide. He wishes he could see what is happening, but instead he sits on the ground, pulls his knees up to his chest, leans his cheek on his knee and listens.

“Hey, I was hoping you’d still be up.” Mr. Anderson says.

Blaine coughs and Kurt can hear the shuffling of sheets, “Yeah. Couldn’t sleep.” Blaine answers. Kurt can hear a breathy quality to his voice that he hopes Mr. Anderson doesn’t.

“Oh, well, I was just finishing up some work in the office and thought I’d see if you were awake because I wanted to run something by you.” Mr. Anderson says.

“Oh. Sure.” Blaine says.

Mr. Anderson sighs, “You know how important tomorrow’s dinner is to my work, right?” Kurt assumes Blaine just nods because Mr. Anderson continues, “I need these investors and nothing can go wrong.”

“I get that.” Blaine answers and Kurt can hear a bit of confusion in his voice.

“Merrick Clark, one of the investors tomorrow, has a daughter about your age.” Mr. Anderson says and Kurt’s stomach instantly drops to the floor. Certainly Mr. Anderson isn’t about to propose what Kurt thinks he’s about to propose, “She’s just recently out of a very bad relationship and when her dad heard that you’d be home for Christmas…”

“Dad, I don’t think…” Blaine starts but Mr. Anderson cuts him off.

“I need to keep these people happy, Blaine. And I would really appreciate it if you could do your part.” Mr. Anderson says sternly.

Kurt’s heart breaks in the silence that follows. His mind is screaming for Blaine to just tell his father the truth. Tell him that he can’t date this random girl because he doesn’t like girls in that way and that he’s in love with the boy that’s across the hall (or so Mr. Anderson thinks). But this isn’t a movie, despite the comical timing of Mr. Anderson’s entrance tonight, so Kurt’s heart breaks a little more when Blaine answers.

“Yeah. Sure. Of course, Dad.” He says.

“Fantastic.” Mr. Anderson says and then there is silence for a moment before Mr. Anderson says something else, but this time his voice is further away, as if he’s at the door, “Good night, Blaine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Night Dad.” Blaine whispers and then Kurt hears the door to Blaine’s room open and close.

He stays in his place in the closet (the irony of his position not lost on him) for a moment. He tells himself he’s waiting until Blaine’s father is officially out of hearing distance but really his brain is trying to process the last few minutes. Somehow, not only does he have to be in the metaphorical closet for the next day, he has to watch his boyfriend play nice with the investor’s daughter. He feels sick to his stomach.

Soft light floods the closet as the door opens and Kurt looks up to see Blaine looking down at him and for as nauseous as Kurt feels, Blaine LOOKS even more sick.

“Kurt…” He says in a pained whisper.

Kurt reaches for one of Blaine’s hands and pulls the smaller man down to him. Blaine crumples to the floor to sit between Kurt’s legs and lean against his chest, his breathing erratic and he’s trembling slightly.

“Shhhh, it’s okay.” Kurt soothes, rubbing Blaine’s back.

Blaine shakes his head against Kurt’s chest and Kurt understands - it’s not okay. None of this is okay.

-- -- --

“So, let me get this straight.” Elliot says the next day over the phone. Kurt’s outside, sitting on one of the Anderson’s outdoor couches. He’s wrapped up in his coat and shivering but he didn’t want to have this conversation where he could be overheard, “Oh, sorry, should I not use the word ‘straight’?” Elliot asks.

Kurt huffs and rolls his eyes, “Be serious, please.” He says.

Elliot sighs, “I’m just saying, you have moved from having to play the straight roommate for two days to having to play that role while your boyfriend is set up on a date with a woman!” Kurt sighs as well, he’s aware of the situation, “You know what I’m going to say. I would have been out after the first injustice, but now?”

Kurt huffs again and watches as his breath puffs out in front of him, “Elliot, are you done shaming me now? Can we move onto the actual advice-giving?”

“I’m not shaming you,” Elliot defends, “I just think the choice you’re making is dumb and you should feel bad about it and yourself.”

“Elliot!” Kurt exclaims as his friend laughs.

“Sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood.” Elliot says but when he speaks again he sounds serious, “Look, I love you, Kurt. And a big, very big, part of me just wants to tell you to get out of there. Is a six month relationship with a guy really worth all this?” Kurt goes to answer but Elliot continues before he can, “But I know what you’re going to say and so my advice to you is to just ride it out. Blaine said he’s going to tell his father after the dinner? Give him that chance. If he doesn’t, then you can reevaluate.”

Kurt nods, “You’re right.” He says.

“I usually am.” Elliot jokes and this time Kurt chuckles at the joke, “Now I’m going to go and sit on your extremely comfortable couch and watch a movie before going to my parents where their couches are decidedly less comfy.”

“Enjoy.” Kurt says, echoing Elliot from the night before and he hangs up. He sighs as he lets his phone drop into his lap. He knows Elliot has a point. Six months is not that long a time and Blaine has given him enough red flags just in the last day to make staying with him questionable but...there is just something that Kurt can’t walk away from.

“Hey.” Kurt jumps slightly and turns to find Blaine walking toward him. He’s all bundled up in his winter wear and Kurt’s not sure how long he’s been outside but Blaine’s nose and cheeks are adorably pink from the cold. Kurt’s breath catches at the sight.

“Hey.” Kurt says as Blaine comes to sit next to him on the couch.

“You okay?” Blaine asks.

They haven’t really talked all morning. Kurt had stayed in Blaine’s room last night, getting up to go back to his own around 5 am, but it had not been the sexy romp he’d been hoping for. They’d snuggled and slept. Very little had even been said after exiting Blaine’s closet and Blaine had been busy all morning helping his mom with the evening’s meal.

Kurt nods and then shrugs, “Yeah. I guess.”

Blaine sighs and reaches for Kurt’s gloved hands in his own. Kurt allows him to pull his hand into his lap and Blaine plays with his fingers as he talks, “You know that...no matter what happens tonight, it doesn’t change how I feel about you, right?”

Kurt swallows. He wants to believe that so badly. Instead of answering verbally, he nods.

Blaine gives a small smile, “This dinner is really important to my dad.” He continues. Kurt is pretty sure he’s heard that sentence more than ‘I love you’ from Blaine over the past day. He holds back the urge to roll his eyes and stays quiet as Blaine continues, “I know it’s not how you would want to spend Christmas Eve but I promise, once we get through the meal I’ll...I’ll tell my parents.”

Kurt sighs, “Is it okay if I ask now why you haven’t told them in ten years?”

Blaine’s eyes widen but he nods, “Of course. You have a right to know.” Kurt’s not sure that’s true but he appreciates that Blaine is willing to tell him. Blaine shrugs and looks out over the backyard, “It’s not an overly complicated story though. My parents have always made their views on gay people very clear. They don’t hate them, but would almost rather pretend like they don’t exist. They’re deeply Republican and are very into appearances. A gay son doesn’t really fit into the world they’ve created for themselves. I was terrified of the way they would react and didn’t want anything to jeopardize the relationship we had.”

“What about Cooper?” Kurt whispers.

Blaine shrugs again, “Cooper is just too much of a wild card. We’re eight years apart in age. We’ve never been overly close but we struck up a sort of tentative relationship after I turned sixteen. I know Cooper has no problem with gay people, I just don’t know where his allegiances would lie if my parents reacted poorly. I didn’t want whatever relationship we have to disappear if he chooses my parents over me.”

Kurt’s heart breaks once again for the man in front of him. At the moment, Blaine looks like a frightened little boy, and in a lot of ways he is. He has come a long way to accept himself but when it comes to his family he might as well be that fourteen year old boy discovering his sexuality for the first time.

Kurt squeezes Blaine’s fingers, “No matter how they react, I’ll be here.” He whispers.

Blaine looks up at Kurt with wide wet eyes and takes a deep breath. He doesn’t say ‘I love you’ but Kurt can see it and feel it when Blaine brings his lips to Kurt’s in a kiss. Is it the smartest thing to kiss in the backyard? Probably not, but Kurt isn’t going to turn Blaine away especially when he can feel Blaine relax the more they kiss.

-- -- --

“Okay, you’re going to have to change.” Kurt turns from where he’s inspecting his outfit in the full length mirror in the guest room to find Blaine standing in the doorway to the room. His boyfriend leans back to check both ways down the hallway before continuing, “Because if you don’t change I’m going to spend the whole night fighting an erection and the urge to drag you into a closet.”

Kurt smirks, turning back to the mirror and straightening his tie, “And how would we explain that to your family. Just bros helping bros?”

Blaine chuckles as he walks into the room and closes the door behind him. He walks up behind Kurt and wraps his arms around Kurt’s waist before hooking his chin on Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt smirks again because he knows the position means that Blaine is standing at least partially on his tip toes.

“You’re picking up on my ‘fratty talk’.” Blaine whispers into his ear and Kurt groans as he laughs. Blaine is the one who tends to pull out phrases that only a frat boy would say. No wonder his parents believe he’s straight. Kurt immediately banishes the negative thought, though, as Blaine begins to kiss along his neck. He leans his head away to give him more room, “I’m rubbing off on you.”

Another laugh is punched out of Kurt’s lungs as Blaine’s phrase is simultaneously accompanied by Blaine rubbing his hardening cock against Kurt’s ass. Blaine bites his neck softly, “Don’t laugh when I’m trying to seduce you.” He says.

Kurt groans as Blaine’s hand moves down to cup him through his pants. They don’t have the time, or the privacy, for this at the moment. Kurt’s look took him nearly an hour and if Blaine’s going to mess it up by having sex then he’ll be late to the dinner. While not an overly horrible thing in Kurt’s mind, any excuse to miss his boyfriend playing nice with a woman his parents are trying to set him up with, he knows how rude it would look.

“We don’t have time.” Kurt whispers, “This look took me an hour.”

Blaine sighs and Kurt shivers at the feeling of his breath across his neck before the shorter man drops down from his toes and backs away, “You’re right. I would hate to mess up perfection for a quick orgasm.” Blaine agrees, “And besides, soon enough we’ll have the time to take things slow.”

He’s referring to when they leave Blaine’s parents house tomorrow morning. Kurt mentally scrolls through what they have to get through in order to make it to that, and his brain hurts to do so.

He turns to take Blaine in properly and smiles, “Gorgeous.” He says.

Blaine strikes a mini pose that causes Kurt to laugh, “Why, thank you, kind sir.” Blaine says before offering his arm, “Shall we?”

Kurt takes in a deep breath and then takes Blaine’s offered arm. They only hold on until they get to the door and then separate once Blaine opens it. Kurt has no idea what this dinner will hold, but he knows the sooner it starts the sooner it will be over for better or worse.

-- -- --

“Ah and here he is now!” Kurt and Blaine hear as they make their way into the Anderson’s living room. It’s Mr. Anderson that speaks and he gestures Blaine forward into the mini circle he and two other people have made. Kurt threads his fingers together in front of him and waits a little further back.

“Merrick, I’d like you to meet my youngest, Blaine.” Mr. Anderson says, speaking to an older gentleman to his left, “Blaine this is Merrick Clark. He owns one of the most successful real estate companies in the midwest.”

Blaine smiles and extends a hand, “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Clark.”

Merrick Clark lets out a booming laugh and grasps Blaine’s hand in a mighty shake, “Please, son, call me Merrick!”

Kurt tenses at ‘son’ even though he intellectually knows that’s how a lot of older men address younger men. Blaine nods as his hand is released. Kurt wonders if anyone else notices how uncomfortable Blaine is at the moment or if it’s only Kurt.

“And this,” Mr. Anderson says gesturing to the woman beside Merrick, “is Tamara Clark. Merrick’s lovely daughter.”

Tamara is objectively beautiful but Kurt is immediately put off by how fake she seems. Everything about her - from her face, to her hair, to even her breasts - screams FAKE! to Kurt and the smile she gives Blaine is one of the most predatory looks Kurt has ever seen.

She extends a hand in the way some women do when they don’t seem to know how to shake hands or want to touch you as little as possible and all Blaine can do is grasp her fingers and shake them awkwardly, “Bill, you didn’t tell me your son was so gorgeous!” Tamara enthuses and Kurt immediately hates her voice. Like nails on a chalkboard.

Blaine blushes at the compliment and Kurt knows that blush. He’s made Blaine blush that way, a lot. His hackles rise to think of this fake woman eliciting that reaction from HIS boyfriend.

Blaine coughs as if he, too, realizes what his reaction was before he turns and smiles at Kurt, “I’d like you to meet my roommate, Kurt.”

Kurt bristles at ‘roommate’ but is pleased that Blaine wants to introduce him. All eyes swing to him and Mr. Anderson coughs, “Ah, yes. Kurt. Blaine’s friend who is here for the holidays.”

Kurt just barely catches himself before he glares. With that one sentence, Mr. Anderson has made his feelings toward Kurt very clear and they aren’t favourable. Considering he and Kurt have exchanged all of ten words since they’ve met, and Mr. Anderson knows next to nothing about him, Kurt finds this disdain strange. Though he guesses he’s done the same thing with Tamara, but it’s not like Kurt’s trying to sleep with Mrs. Anderson.

“Nice to meet you.” Kurt says with a small wave.

There’s a beat of silence before Merrick nods, “Right. Well, Bill why don’t we leave these two to chat?” He says, gesturing to Blaine and Tamara.

Mr. Anderson nods, “Of course. Why don’t we go talk a little shop before dinner?”

The pair leaves the living room which leaves just Kurt, Blaine, Tamara. Kurt’s not sure where Tamara’s mother or Cooper and his family are but he suddenly feels like a giant third wheel.

He shifts in the silence and when he looks at Tamara she is glaring daggers at him. Kurt lifts an eyebrow. So this is how it’s going to be?

“Blaine,” Tamara says, “Can you show me where the little girl’s room is?”

Blaine nods and gestures down the hall, “It’s just down the hall…” He starts but Tamara interrupts him by laying a hand on his arm. Kurt’s eyes zero in on the contact. So do Blaine’s.

“I’d really rather if you’d show me.” She says with a coy smile.

Blaine coughs, lets his eyes dart to Kurt, before he nods, “Sure. I’ll...be right back, Kurt.”

As they leave, Tamara threads her arm through Blaine’s just like Kurt had done upstairs. Kurt sighs. It’s going to be a long night.

-- -- --

“So Kirk!” Merrick booms a half hour later as everyone sits at the dinner table. Merrick isn’t that far down the table from Kurt but his voice cuts through every conversation and suddenly all eyes are on Kurt.

“Kurt.” Kurt corrects with a patient smile.

Merrick nods and takes a drink of his wine, “Right. Kurt. I knew that.” He says, “So, what brings you to your roommates house for Christmas?”

Kurt shifts in his chair and tries to avoid looking across the table at Blaine. He’s actually tried to look at Blaine as little as possible since he and Tamara had left him in the living room earlier. He feels like there are too many landmines there considering the situation, and he also has no interest in watching a woman, who seems not at all shy with physical touch, be around his boyfriend.

“Um my dad is working tonight so Blaine offered to have me spend Christmas Eve with him. I’ll be driving home tomorrow afternoon to see my family.” Kurt answers. Burt Hummel is definitely not working tonight but no other untrue story could explain his presence here tonight.

Merrick nods again, “Very kind of him.” Kurt nods and dares a quick smile in Blaine’s direction. He wishes he hadn’t when he sees Tamara’s hand on Blaine’s shoulder. Is she cutting her turkey with one hand?

“No girlfriend to spend the holidays with?” Clara Clark asks from beside her husband. She was introduced to Kurt drunk and hasn’t stopped drinking since.

Kurt presses his lips together in a pained smile and shakes his head.

“No?” Merrick booms, “Why not? A youngu, virile looking young man like yourself? No woman to speak of?”

Kurt’s not sure where to start. Why is this man commenting on his apparent virility and why is him not having a girlfriend such a travesty to a man he just met?

Before Kurt can answer though, a tiny voice pipes up from down the table, “Kurt and Uncle Blaine kiss each other.”

The entire table becomes so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Kurt feels his stomach sink as he looks down to find little five-year-old Dylan Anderson happily eating his mashed potatoes, seemingly unaware of the bomb he just dropped. All eyes swing from Dylan to Kurt and Blaine, and now Kurt has a very, very small window to figure out how to react to this.

His body reacts for him and suddenly he’s laughing. All eyes swivel to him as he laughs in his chair, and he has the forethought to keep from breaking into hysterical laughter because he’s already probably coming across as not very mentally stable.

“Dylan.” Mr. Anderson finally says as Kurt’s laughter calms, “Why would you say that? You know, it’s not good to spread lies.”

Dylan shrugs as he picks up some cranberry sauce on his fork, “I saw them outside.” He says, still unaware of how his words are affecting the table.

With this new information, Kurt finally looks across the table at Blaine. His boyfriend is staring at his plate like it holds the answers to the universe and is as still as a statue. Tamara still has a hand on his shoulder and she’s staring at Kurt with a quirked eyebrow.

“Blaine,” Mr. Anderson says, once again breaking the silence, “Is this true?”

Kurt watches as Blaine begins to shake and Kurt holds his breath as he waits for the answer. He hates that this is the way Blaine has to come out to his family, feels sick to his stomach about it actually, but a small part of him is relieved.

Blaine swallows down at his plate before picking his head up, catching Kurt’s eyes for a brief moment before turning to his father. He laughs, the sounds almost robotic to Kurt’s ears, “Of course not.” He says.

For the second time, Kurt feels his stomach drop but this time his heart goes with it. What…?

Tamara laughs beside Blaine, “Maybe Dylan saw Kirk outside with one of his boy toys. Because if he’s straight? Then I’m Kim Kardashian.”

Kurt feels his ears go hot as the entire table turns to look at him. Everyone except Blaine, who’s head whips in Tamara’s direction. Tamara for her part just smirks with a shrug.

Before Kurt can comprehend what his mind and body are doing, he’s on his feet. His chair scrapes against the floor in the silence and he stands frozen for a moment, staring at Blaine and Tamara across the table.

He points across the table at the bottle blonde, “You’re right. I am gay. And proud of it. I wouldn’t want to be anything else. But I’m sure you’re happy I’m not straight because then you’d have to explain why your flat ass is no match for Kim’s beautiful butt.”

Tamara’s mouth opens as if she’s offended but Kurt pays her no more attention as he turns to look at Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, “Thank you for having me last night but I think we can all agree that I’ll see myself out now.”

He doesn’t wait for them to answer, but does spare one more look at Blaine’s conflicted face before he stalks out of the room and up the stairs.

As he packs he keeps expecting, or rather hoping, that Blaine will come upstairs and beg him to stay. That he’ll apologize for denying them as a couple and say to hell with his family and that Kurt is more important.

That doesn’t happen though, not that Kurt actually expected it to, and ten minutes after leaving the dining room Kurt is packed and down the stairs. He can hear voices from the dining room but keeps going out the door and to the car he and Blaine rented. He’s not sure what Blaine is going to do for a ride the next day, but at the moment he doesn’t care. He just needs to get out of here before he starts crying.

He almost succeeds.

He’s at the bottom of the driveway before the first tears fall and he’s on the highway before he’s full on sobbing.

-- -- --

Kurt wakes up slowly the next morning. He blinks his swollen eyes into the early morning sunlight streaming in through the window and has a moment of confusion. Where is he?

He hears pots clanging somewhere in the house and when his eyes finally adjust he sees the familiar surroundings of his bedroom at his Dad’s house. Oh right, he’s with his family. And his eyes are swollen because he spent the entire drive here crying and then proceeded to cry himself to sleep after crying on his dad’s shoulder for a few hours.

He’s not sure what time it is, but he knows he hasn’t gotten enough sleep. That being said, the comforting presence of his father is too much to ignore so he slowly rises into a sitting position before pushing to stand and shuffle out of the room.

When he gets to the kitchen he finds his dad and his wife, Carole, moving around the room with practiced ease, while Finn, Kurt’s step brother, sits at the kitchen table, most likely after being told to stay out of the way. Kurt smiles at the scene as much as he can before his Dad notices him in the doorway.

“Hey bud.” Burt sighs as he leans back against the counter.

“Wow, Kurt, you must be feeling bad.” Finn pipes in, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so...messy.”

Kurt rolls his eyes at Finn’s bluntness but it’s Carole who answers, “Finn!” She admonishes her son, “Maybe go take a shower before breakfast and presents.”

Finn, who looks confused why he’s being sent away, does so without comment, leaving just Kurt, Burt, and Carole in the kitchen.

“I’m,” Carole starts, handing the spatula in her hand to Burt, “going to check on the presents.” She says and then she, too, is gone.

“Subtle.” Kurt sighs as he lowers himself into a chair.

Burt chuckles softly, “They’re worried about you.”

Kurt quirks an eyebrow, “Even Finn?”

Burt inclines his head, “In his own way, yes.” Kurt ‘aha’s sarcastically but he does, in fact, believe that both Carole and Finn care about him and are worried about him. He may not have felt that way when they entered the Hummel family eight years ago after it just being Kurt and Burt for years after Kurt’s mom had died, but every year the ‘step’ gets less and less important.

“How ya doing?” Burt asks, flipping a pancake before taking the pan off the heat and lowering himself into a chair next to Kurt.

Kurt shrugs, “Like I did a lot of drinking last night...after getting my heart broken.”

Burt pouts slightly before sighing, “I can’t believe that’s how it all went down yesterday.”

Kurt nods, “Me either. But it did. Now it’s just me having to get over it.”

Burt tilts his head, “What are you going to do about the fact that you share an apartment with this man?”

Kurt sighs and shrugs again, “I don’t know. That’s a New York Kurt problem. Lima Kurt just wants to eat carbs, open presents with his family, and forget yesterday even happened.”

Burt nods just as there is a knock on the front door. Father and son turn toward the sound in confusion. Who would be coming to call at 6 am on Christmas morning?

“Kurt?” Carole calls from the front hallway where she had presumably answered the door.

Kurt’s brow furrows as he looks at his dad. The older man just shrugs and gestures toward the door. Kurt shrugs and gets up to see who it could possibly be.

He rounds the corner into the front hall and stops short.

It’s Blaine.

Blaine is standing on his front doorstep, winter hat being wrung between his gloved fingers and biting his lip with a guilty look on his face. Kurt hates how adorable he looks.

Carole is standing at the door with a look of worry on her face. She seems conflicted.

“It’s...okay, Carole.” Kurt says and the older woman nods before making her way past Kurt. She reaches a hand out to squeeze his arm as she passes.

When it’s just Kurt and Blaine, they stand in silence for a long time. Kurt doesn’t even invite the other man in. He just stares as Blaine shifts back and forth on his feet.

“Why are you here?” Kurt finally asks.

Blaine jolts like he hadn’t realized Kurt was still there or he’d been so lost in his own head that he hadn’t anticipated Kurt speaking first. He looks up at Kurt with wide eyes before looking back down at the carpet at his feet.

“I told them.” He whispers.

There’s silence again as Kurt processes this information. Eventually, he slowly reaches to grab his jacket off the hook and puts it on. He heads to the door and steps out, causing Blaine to take a step back, and closes the door behind him so the pair is now standing on the porch.

He gestures to the porch swing and he and Blaine sit next to each other.

“I’m listening.” Kurt says, softly. He’ll give Blaine that much. He’ll listen.

Blaine sighs roughly, “As soon as you left I wanted to go after you. But I knew that would just make things worse. I needed to deal with things with my family before I could come to you. Hell, as soon as those words were out of my mouth I wanted them back.”

Kurt knows what words Blaine is talking about. He’s heard ‘Of course not’ repeated in his head over and over since they left Blaine’s mouth.

Blaine shakes his head, “And I wanted to slap Tamara for what she said but,” and at this Blaine smirks a little, “you kind of verbally slapped her for me.”

Kurt feels the corner of his mouth twitch upward but he’s still too wary to really find humour or compliment in Blaine’s words.

“After you left, my dad started making this big speech about how wrong it was to have a gay person try to hide who they were and ‘sneak’ into his house. How he felt violated.” Kurt’s stomach starts to turn sour. Blaine huffs and his breath comes out in a puff of steam, “And he’s going on and on about how you deceived me and the family and I just kept getting angrier and angrier until eventually I just exploded.

“I told him that if he felt deceived by the two days he didn’t know about you then he was in for a doozy because I’ve been ‘deceiving’ him for ten years. That shut him up real quick.” Blaine laughs humourlessly, “And everyone just stared at me. I told them that I was gay and in love with an amazing man and that if they couldn’t handle that then they needed to check their priorities.”

Blaine falls silent and Kurt’s eyes widen expectantly, “And?” He asks breathlessly.

Blaine sighs and looks out across the front lawn, “And then my dad told me that if that’s the way I felt I could get the hell out of his house.”

Kurt gulps.

Blaine is quiet as he looks out over the lawn before he turns to Kurt, “And you know how I feel now?” Kurt shakes his head and slowly a smile blooms on Blaine’s face, “I feel relief. I am so relieved to no longer have this hanging over my head. In the end, I couldn’t care less about how they reacted, I just needed to say it.”

Kurt gives a small smile, “Well, then I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks.” Blaine breathes and then he shifts and Kurt thinks it looks like he goes to reach for Kurt’s hand but then at the last moment thinks better of it and retracts his hands into his own lap again, “Look, I know just because I came out to them doesn’t erase the fact that I forced you into a closet and then lied about you point blank. I get that.” He nods, almost resignedly, “But,” He says, looking up at Kurt with wide eyes, “I love you so much, Kurt. And if you can somehow find a way to forgive me, I promise that I will NEVER do anything like that again. You weren’t the reason I decided to come out to my family but your love made me feel like I’d have a soft place to land no matter what.” He grimaces, “And I fucked that up.”

Kurt is quiet as he looks at the man in front of him. He’s only known Blaine for six months but from the very beginning it’s felt like he’s known Blaine his entire life. They zinged in a way he never has with anyone else. They’re love was real and deep and something worth fighting for.

Is.

Is something worth fighting for.

Kurt reaches across the divide and grabs Blaine’s hand. Blaine inhales sharply and he looks down at their hands and then up at Kurt. Kurt smiles and squeezes the hand in his own.

“It’s still a soft place to land.” He whispers and Blaine all but melts against him. Blaine’s lips are on his and Kurt’s still warm enough from the house to get a small jolt from the coldness of Blaine’s lips. He silently vows to keep kissing until their lips are the same temperature.

“Woooohoooo!”

The exclamation makes the pair pull apart much too soon for Kurt’s liking and he turns toward the sound in alarm.

Standing beside a blue SUV on the street is none other than Cooper Anderson. He’s got his arms in the air and a bright smile on his face.

Kurt laughs in disbelief as he turns to Blaine who is smiling sheepishly, “What…?” Kurt trails off.

Blaine’s smile grows, “Turns out when push comes to shove...Cooper’s allegiance is to me.” He says it with a little bit of disbelief and Kurt can see his eyes twinkle with the beginning of tears.

“I told you he’d forgive you!” Cooper exclaims, loud enough for the whole street to hear and then he bends to high-five a bouncing Dylan who Kurt just realizes is next to him.

Kurt and Blaine laugh, “Coop! You’ll wake the neighbours!” Blaine admonishes.

Cooper shrugs, “Well, I haven’t heard Kurt extend an invite for Christmas morning breakfast yet!”

Kurt laughs as he tugs Blaine up to stand with him and gestures Cooper and Dylan forward, “My dad and stepmom are making pancakes. Would you like to join us?”

He directs his question to all three Anderson’s as Cooper and Dylan comes closer but he’s only got eyes for Blaine.

Cooper and Dylan slide past them and he enters the house without further comment but Kurt and Blaine hear him bellow, “Good morning Kurt’s family! I’m Cooper, Blaine’s brother. This is my son, Dylan. And we were told there were pancakes!”

Kurt and Blaine laugh again as they hold hands facing each other on the porch, “I guess we should go explain.” Kurt says, tilting his head toward the door.

“One more kiss.” Blaine says and Kurt smiles as he indulges him. He bends down and presses his lips to Blaine for a moment before pulling back.

“We can kiss inside where it’s warm, too.” Kurt says.

Blaine smiles, “Yeah, but if we do it inside Cooper will make inappropriately lewd comments.”

Kurt smirks, “Actually, my step brother Finn probably will, too.”

“They’ll probably get along famously.” Blaine comments.

“Probably.” Kurt whispers before kissing Blaine one more time, “Merry Christmas, Blaine.”

“Merry Christmas, Kurt.” Blaine whispers before the pair link fingers and enter the house together.

#klaine #klaine fanfiction #klaine fanfic #my loves #my stuff #season of happiness

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statticscribbles · 3 years

Text

Four Plus One

Summary: Huma, Four times Uma cried around Harry and the one time he cried around her

Uma knows her mother must have planned something for her birthday, beyond having a few extra hours off early to play with all her friends. She tampers down the hope she’ll come back to a seapony, or at least a cake. Instead when she wanders back into the chip shop, peering around to see her mothers tentacles waving her forward. “What on earth do you think you’re wearing?” Ursula snarls and Uma shrinks back.

“It was cold, Gil; Gil gave me his jacket and-“ “Take it off before I burn it.” Uma nods folding the jacket and running with it to her room, not that her mother can’t reach it there. She tucks it under the pillow and for a moment in her terror she forgets it’s her birthday at all. She remembers soon after and pulls the jacket back out fingers running over the soft red leather. “Uma?” She jumps wiping her face and peers at her window, Harry’s clinging to the ledge grinning at her, his hook looped around the broken railing he’d used to climb up. “Come on I know your mom’ll throw me back into the ocean in a few if you don’t open up.” Uma doesn’t say anything nodding and sliding her window open, thankful it stay silent no matter how slow or quickly she rips it open. “Uma?” She watches Harry frown grabbing his hook from the bar but putting it on her dresser to let his hands hover around her face.

“She forgot again. I don’t know why I thought it was going to be different than any other year.” Harry shakes his head pulling her into an awkward hug as she shoves her hands forward trying to offer him his jacket back. “You really giving me your present back?” “Told my mom it was Gil’s.” Harry nods, pulling the jacket back on before wrapping Uma back in a hug. “It’s okay you know.”

“That my own mother forgot my birthday?” Uma laughs bitterly and Harry shakes his head. “That you’re upset. Just because you’re gonna be captain someday doesn’t mean you don’t get to have feelings.” “I don’t think I’m going to be captain at this rate, you’re better suited anyways.” Harry grins shaking his head, his fingers brushing her cheeks to wipe away spare tears. “You’re just saying that.” Harry ducks his head before looking back up to her grinning. “What?” “Since you won’t take the jacket.” He laughs, placing the hat he always wears onto her head. “Harry, I can’t…” “It’s a birthday present. You can’t give it back to me.” He grins crookedly leaning forward to kiss her forehead before pulling the hat over her eyes. “Come on Capt’n, we’ll be okay.” Harry hums and Uma nods looking at him from under her new hat. “You should get home..”

“Before my dad notice’s his own personal bartender ain’t home?” Harry snarls and Uma chews her lip. “Before I ask you to stay over, again. And have my mom throw you into the ocean, again.” “I’ll hit the barrier like I did last time.” “And break your wrist?” “I have my hook!” Harry nods enthusiastically.

——————————————————————————-

“Uma! Volume control!” Ursula shouts from the back and Uma scrambles towards the tv turning the volume down watching the static image flicker before it shows a bright green garden filled with berries and fruit trees. Uma stares in wonder as the tv pans over the garden and then to a massive swimming pool that seems to be endless before it switches to a view of a lake with a waterfall and a group of kids swimming in the lake itself. Uma tries her best not to run her fingers along the tv screen, the last time she did that she had to clean off the handprints she’d left.

Harry and Gil arrive as whatever the show is ends and they grin at her but she shakes her head thumb moving to the back of the shop where they can hear her mother moving around. “UMA!” “Comin’ mom.” Uma hums back and Harry and Gil settling into the corner table they’ve claimed as their own. “That show on the TV; that was what Auradon looks like, like really looks like! Isn’t that so cool! I want to go there! And go swimming!” Uma cheers and Gil nods enthusiastically excitedly talking about all the fresh fruit and vegetables they have.

“Dad says those are the best for being strong, way better than the canned stuff we get!” Harry shrugs when Uma asks about why he wants to go. “Come on Harry must be some reason.” “You want to go, so I do.” Harry half mumbles as if it’s the most normal response to have. “We should ask.” Gil grins and Uma can’t fight off his optimism that he radiates. “Fine.” Uma grumbles and the three of the retreat back towards Ursula. “Mom. Gil and Harry and I were-“ “You can have the night off then.” “Thank you but we wanted to ask about going to Aurad-“ Uma doesn’t finish, Gil shoves her back and Harry and her watch frozen and Ursula’s tentacle whip out to slice a gash on Gil’s arm. Uma knows it would have been her face had he not moved in front of her.

“Don’t you ever mention that hell hole, those people are the ones that trapped us here.” She snarls and Uma realizes she’s not even aware she hadn’t hurt Uma, just that something had gotten hurt. They three of them step back and all shakily curl into one of the rooms on the Revenge. “I’m sorry Gil.”Uma mumbles and Gil’s brow furrows. “About what? That was nothing compared to what my dad passes off as training, let alone his punishments.” Both her her and Harry look worriedly to Gil.

“Your dad? He does worse than that?” Harry chews his lip, Gil nods unphased. “Course, he’s the strongest here, I have to be just like him. I can’t be weak, or fail like he did.” Gil’s smile falters at their shocked faces. “Is that not what he’s supposed to be doing?” “Gil, no, not at all.” Uma pulls him into a hug and he rests his chin on her head. Harry nervously reaches forward hands circling both Uma and Gil. Gil’s face stays confused as Uma sniffles and he pulls back to look at her face. “You’re upset for me? There’s nothing to be upset about; look it already scabbed. No need to cry.”

It doesn’t take long for the movement of the boat to lull them to sleep or for Harry to wake back up when he can feel Uma shifting away from him. “Uma, hey what’s-“ “Nothing.” “You seemed really upset about Gil earlier, I didn’t know, we can’t blame ourselves.” “It’s not that, he just, right in front of me.” She waves her hand in front of her face.

“Yeah cause he cares about you. We all do, we’re your crew.” “He, you, neither of you should be so willing to get hurt for me.” “I can’t speak for him, but I love you; I’m not going to let you get hurt if I can help it.” “You what?” Uma questions and Harry throws her hat at her. “Nothing. We should sleep more till someone else comes to wake us.” He avoids the question and Uma drops in favour of picking off the flaking blood on her jacket from Gil’s wound.

————————————————————————————– “Why do you want to be my friend so badly! You don’t even have real magic!” Mal snaps and Uma hesitates. “I do have magic! I can swim and when I-“ “Nobody cares you can swim, that you just hit the barrier and turn back! That’s so dumb!” “Mal just drop it, Uma can hang with us-“ “No Evie she wants to control us, wants us in her dumb pirate gang that’s made up of a bunch of misfits, just like her, a little shrimp.” Mal’s eyes and face light up and Uma scowls before Mal’s eyes flash green and Uma’s face first in the sand. “Shrimpy, betcha can’t even fight back.” Uma doesn’t say anything as Gil and Harry appear, Mal and Evie turning tail and running back to the main city of the Isle. “They don’t like the beach, it’s okay Uma that’s all.” Gil assures her and she shoves at him, he stumbles, caught off balance in his new growth spurt, his limbs too gangly and thin. Uma tries not to be bitter at the growth spurts that seemed to have taken her crew by storm, leaving her out of the mix. “I’ll go let everyone know.” Gil nods as Uma catches the end of some shared look between him and Harry. “What Harry.” She snaps, her voice wavering.

“You okay? You landed pretty hard on your wrist..” “It’s fine!” Uma shouts and Harry nods sitting next to her as she pulls herself inward, foot digging into the damp sand. “She doesn’t know anything, she’s the closest we’re getting to meet Auradonian royalty in the flesh. A stuck up princess given too much power.” “She’s a better villain, everyone is scared of her.” Uma sniffles. “You think they’re not scared of you?” She nods and Harry loops his arm around her.

“They don’t know how weak the barrier is under the water do they?” Uma shakes her head and Harry grins. “Betcha once you get even better at swimming you can just swim under it.” “ I can’t.” Harry arches an eyebrow. “All you’ve wanted since we were little was to get off this island and take revenge for yourself.” “I can’t leave my crew behind.” She grins laughing a little as Gil shoves Harry into the sand.

“See Uma, fightin’ always makes us feel better; you’re laughing now so you’ll be okay, right?” Gil’s voice is softer at the end despite the force he uses to keep Harry’s face planted in the sand. “Gil, come on can’t have my first mate drown in no water.” Gil’s eyes widen. “You can do that?” “Let’s not find out yeah?” Uma helps Harry up who playfully shoves Gil towards the ship they’ve all started calling home in their heads. ———————————————————————–

“Come on Gil. Again.” Uma snaps and Harry charges forward, Gil jumping out of the way dropping the sword and letting his fist hit Harry in the jaw. “GIL! No! The point of this is for you to use the sword!” Uma chides shaking her head as she steps in front of Harry pulling her own sword out to nod to Gil who nervously picks his back up. “We all need to get better at fighting; we all need to be able to fight in every way each other does. We’re stronger like this.” She nods and Gil nods with her taking a breath before he nods and Uma steps forward. “Strike, block, strike, block, turn. Good. Good job.” Uma praises and Gil grins striking to the side without comment and Uma grins back dodging him laughing a little.

“Try again.” She laughs and he nods stepping back so Uma follows, closing the gap towards him before he strikes out once more switching his hand to slice the air in front of Uma’s face. “Were you holding out on Harry just to fight me?” “Nah, Harry’s too easy to beat, I needed a challenge.” Gil laughs when Uma’s sword cuts at his arm, he grins and Uma raises an eyebrow at the line that’s bleeding now.

“You’re gonna end up covered if you don’t actually fight back.” Uma taunts and Gil rolls his shoulders unconcerned before he steps forward sword moving with his arm as he extends it before twisting himself to the side as Uma lashes out; he untwists grinning as the sword slices through the air, he jumps back landing on his feet as Uma rolls to the side. She falters her grin morphing to faint confusion as she looks down, a gash cutting through her jacket, the fabric barely hanging on.

“Gil.” She hisses and he freezes face looking worriedly for any sign of blood. “This was my best jacket!” She snarls and no one comments about it being her only one. Gil hovers nervously before Uma charges him, his sword scraping against hers as he scrambles backwards to avoid her blade. “I’ll buy you a new one! I’ll fix it. I swear I’ll fix it.” Gil shouts frantic as the rest of the crew move out of his way as he all but runs circles around the deck. Gil almost screams as Harry jumps out sword in hand. “Its not fair you’re both too strong together!”

“Life ain’t fair Gil.” Uma laughs surprised to see Harry stumble before he crashes into her. Uma looks up to see a blade in her face Gil grinning. “What just happened?” “I used your strength against you. Harry’s not gonna let himself hurt you if he can help it; so when I moved out of the way, he dropped his sword,” Gil gestures with his hand that’s currently holding Harry’s sword. “And then all I had to do was flick my leg out and bam, Harry became a dead weight and you both hit the deck. So I win.” “So you’re saying Harry helped you win?”

Gil shrugs offering his hand out. Uma takes it gripping her sword about to raise it before Gil lets go of her hand leg sweeping under her’s at the same time as Harry grabs his ankle from where he rests still half on the ground. Uma glares from under Harry’s chest Gil grinning upside down at them. “Do I still win?” Uma sucks in a breath and shrugs pulling the half of her jacket that’s still clinging to the other and waving it in his face. “Does this look like you’re going to win?”

“Yes?” Uma rolls her eyes and pulls Harry back towards the captain’s area pulling her jacket off. “You know he didn’t mean it.” “I know.” Her fingers brush over the jacket, the front half salvageable. “At least the backs there not a total loss.” “I have barely any front of the jacket now! This is worse than the time you lost your sleeves!” “Okay one of those was my choice the other was a hook issue.” Uma shakes her head and Harry scowls. “It’s not the jacket is it?” “Gil’s good at fighting; but he’s better at defending.” “We all are, you know why.”

“I hate it.” “None of us enjoy it. We’re your crew you know this.” “I know Harry! I just want all of this shit to stop! I just want us to be okay! I don’t want Gil to panic when I mention meal times or Bonny to act psycho to keep all the creeps who stare away. I don’t want any of this. I don’t want to train everyone to fight and expect them to lay down there lives for me!” She shoves him shaking her head and Harry raises an eyebrow at the tears he can spot. “So it’s not the jacket?” Gil questions nervously gripping the door handle. “No it’s; what is that?”

“Sewing kit. Borrowed it from Evie, she said since it’s leather it won’t fray; I dunno what that means but it can’t be any harder that stitching up one of Harry’s wounds.” “Oh, thanks Gil.” Uma nods to the jacket keeping her back to him. “You can take it and bring it back if you want.” “Course.” Gil nods and Harry watches as he carefully folds the jacket up, and retreats from the closing door. “Uma, do you-“ Harry doesn’t finish, Uma nodding to him handing his sword that had been leaning against the table towards him.

“We have work to do.” She snaps and Harry sighs. “So we’re going to ignore your emotions…” “What emotions? I was just tired.” “So you’re admitting to the tears then?” Harry grins as Uma scowls caught in a forced agreement. “At least it wasn’t our hat.” She amends and Harry grins following her back onto the deck. ——————————————————————————

Harry and Gil don’t say anything when they find Uma curled in the captain’s chair asleep, her apron and the smell of grease clinging to her. Gil grins nodding to Harry who scowls back pulling him away from waking her. “Let her sleep. Ursula had her working double night shifts.” “Wasn’t she already working double shifts durning the day?” Gil questions and Harry nods watching as Gil’s eyes widen. “I’ll tell the crew to keep it down.”

“Doubt anything could wake her, might as well be dead.” Harry chuckles grinning at Uma before he jumps slightly when she moves. “Not dead, and not sleeping.” She huffs and rolls her back against the chair’s arm. “Wouldn’t you rather a bed Capt’n.” “Doesn’t matter either way. Can’t sleep.” She hisses and rubs at her eyes. “At least change out of your uniform, no sense in getting it dirtied up.” “Doesn’t matter.” She hisses again almost shrugging her jacket back onto her shoulders as she leans on Harry’s out stretched arm to steady herself as she stretches.

“Come on Capt’n we can get Gil to read you a bed time story and everything.” He grins confused when Uma’s lip trembles slightly. “Capt’n.” “Harry.” She sighs her forehead resting against his chest as his arms automatically wrap around her. “What’s going on love.” His voice softens as he kisses her forehead watching as she wipes at her eyes. “Nothing; I mean that. Nothings wrong; just everything is happening all the time at once.” “It’s too much yeah?”

“Yes! My mom wants me to work 24/7 at the shop and the Revenge crew need me, not mention everything with Mal and you need me and I don’t even get time to myself let alone time to be with you anymore! I feel like if I try to put effort in to one thing everything else is going to suffer! I can’t let you or the Revenge suffer like that, I can’t Harry.” “Hey Uma, love, it’s okay.”

“Its not! I love you; I can’t just let you suffer because I can’t handle everything.” “If you love me you’ll let me help you.” Harry tries to keep his voice even but it still cracks over the word love and Uma can’t help the faint smile on her face as she catches it. “You’re my first mate; I’m not going to just dump the Revenge on you.” “You’re not dumping anything on me, besides I have Gil as a second so it works well enough. We can keep the ship running while you take time for yourself.” “I can’t just because I’m a little tired…“

“It doesn’t matter why Uma; you need to take time for yourself. None of us want our Captain dropping on deck from exhaustion and I don’t want to see my girl exhausted unless I’m the cause of it. For now it seems everything with Mal has sorted itself out; we can’t do anything until the barrier is dropped anyways.” “If I miss anything while I’m napping..” “I’ll hook anyone who disturbs you, now an actual bed might be a better start than that chair.” ———————————————————————————–

“Capt’n” “Yes?” Uma arches an eyebrow her feet resting on the rail of the deck as Gil lounges in front of her letting her braid his hair. “Gil, scram.” Harry taps his foot. “She’s almost finished with my hair.” “She can finish it later. Capt’n.” Harry hums and Uma watches as he gestures up to the wheel. “What’s wrong now?”

“Nothing.” Uma catches him glancing awkwardly over the rest of the crew. “Harry, what did they do this time. Did Gil do something in Auradon again? I’ve told him we can’t bridge hop like that.” “It’s not that; I mean it’s involving Auradon.” “What happened?” “Nothing yet! Jesus, I just, I remember how you were always saying you wanted to go swimming at Auradon so I may have gotten a sort of vacation organized.” “When I was like eight; Sort of vacation?”

“Yeah, just a few days for uh, us, to go over and spend the day swimming a couple nice dinners just, Gil.” Harry hisses and Uma can hear Gil stumbling down the steps, when she turns her head she can see him standing at the bottom of the stairs. “What’s that?” Uma leans forward and Gil shifts backwards. “A sword.” “I can see that.” She turns back towards Harry who looks unimpressed at Gil from over the ships railing.

“What did he do, it’s not like you to protect him. He must’ve done something all of you are acting weirder than normal. Oh my god is Gil going to be in charge while we’re gone? Is that what this is about?” Uma whips her head back to see Gil nervously wave. “I mean as the second mate he is by default. Plus he can marry us.” “You think I’d marry you because you took me swimming in Auradon?” “No, I think that’s more the post engagement honeymoon.” “That’s not a thing Harry.” “Depends how you answer.” He laughs and it edges on nervousness as Uma turns, her gaze dropping to where Harry kneels in front of her. “Harry.” Uma sighs and Harry grins at her. “Uma, we probably-“ “Yes.” “I had a whole speech planned out, it took me forever to figure out to say how much I love you and everything you can at least…”

“Yes.” “I know what yes means!” “Then get up. So Gil can apparently perform his second mate duties.” “No but-“ “Harry, I said yes. I want to marry you.” Harry seems frozen nodding softly before swallowing and licking his lips. “You want to marry me.” “That is what yes means.” Harry nods turning his head to look out at the current sunset. “Harry?” Uma walks around watching his fingers playing with the ring he’d gotten her. She doesn’t let her eyes linger on it, fingers brushing up harry’s arm to his neck turning his head so he’s forced to rest his forehead on hers.

“Harry.” She hums and he grins a little locking eyes with her. “You want to marry me?” He giggles a little and Uma fondly rolls her eyes. “I love you. Of course I do. Stop crying I can’t have my future husband looking like a crybaby in front of the crew.” “You’re just saying that cause if I cry you’ll cry.” Harry laughs a little and Uma turns back to the crew avoiding the fain wetness in his laughter and on his face.

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