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namariea · 3 years

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Devil’s Advocate | I

“So for argument’s sake... let’s just say Do Kyungsoo really is the boring square you say he is..”

“Don’t you want to find out what makes him tick?”

Pairing: Kyungsoo x Reader

Words: 4.4k

Genre: Romance, Slowburn, Smut

It started with a knock on your door.

“Jongin is coming over tonight, that cool?”

Looking up from your laptop screen, you stared at your roommate who was leaning against your doorway. Blinking slowly, you processed her words.

“Jongin is coming over.”

“Yes, that’s what I just said.”

“And will Mr. Kim be staying over?”

“That would be a correct assumption, yes.”

“Sleeping in your room.”

“Why, did you want him to sleep here with you? Not what I was expecting, but I’m all down for polygamy.”

With a sigh, you saved the document you were working on and began to close your laptop. Collecting the various papers and books scattered around you, you began to tuck them away neatly into your backpack. Sliding off of the bed, you walked the length of the room and began to rifle through your drawers, pulling out some clothes.

Frowning, Jennie walked over to you and looked over your shoulder as you began refolding them and putting them in a gym bag.

“What are you doing?”

“I have a paper I need to finish proofing for tomorrow and I highly doubt I will get any work done with the two of you going at it like animals.”

Jennie didn’t even look fazed at the comment, shrugging non committedly while throwing some pajama shorts your way. Rolling your eyes you passed through the joined bathroom and threw in your toiletries. As you were zipping up your bag a knock came at the door causing you to pause.

Well, that was fast.

Turning around, you looked at the brunette behind you with raised eyebrows, and only then she had the decency to look the slightest bit sheepish.

“Have I told you how much I love you today?”

With your roommate trailing at your heels blabbering about how you are the greatest roommate ever and how she owes you a life debt, you opened the front door and were greeted with Jongin holding what appeared to be a party sized bucket of KFC. Before he could open his mouth you stuck out your hand, waiting.

Blinking down at your outstretched palm, he gave you a confused look.

“Keys. Since you are kicking me out of my bed I’m taking yours”

Jennie snorted behind you as Jongin’s face split into a wide grin.

“You know, I always knew you were a great person.” fishing out his keys from his pocket he handed them to you.

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you gave the couple a wave of your hand and began to make your way down the hall. You were halfway to the elevators when Jongin's loud voice stopped you.

“Oh by the way, Kyungsoo isn’t around tonight, so feel free to raid the fridge before he gets back.”

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

Jongin’s presence at your apartment wasn’t a new occurrence.

In the beginning, it was just him coming over during the day to help Jennie with her design assignments. Which was ok, amazing actually, since it helped her out a lot and saved you dealing with her stress meltdowns.

Then it progressed to Jongin appearing at your dinner table every Friday to partake in Chinese takeout nights. Which was fine, again, since he picked it up on his way over and pitched in. He also somehow was able to sweet talk the old woman who owned the store and managed to get extra egg rolls. Can’t go wrong with that.

It wasn’t until Jennie gave you the look while the older boy excused himself to use the bathroom after one said dinner that you took the hint.

Now, Jongin occasionally stays over during the weekends, where you would find him in the living room at ungodly hours watching the Pirates of the Carribean all the while eating a family sized package of oreo’s. Which was mildly perturbing on two counts. First, was the fact that this was probably the 5th time you’ve seen him watch that movie, and second, those were your oreos.

The final straw was not until the weekend that just past where you were woken up a loud banging. It was not until you were halfway to Jennie’s door in a frantic scramble that your sleep deprived brain caught up with you and realized it was very much not a violent murder taking place in the room over.

Animals.

It was then you all agreed to establish some sort of door-sock system.

Which in essence was - if Jongin was coming over, it was probably best to just find somewhere else to crash.

You didn’t actually mind leaving as much as you thought you would. Jennie was one of your closests friends and it was clear as day that Jongin made her happy. You didn’t even mind hanging out with the guy, he was fun and always brought snacks in return for practically living at your place. Even if his tastes in movies were highly questionable.

It was just sometimes - like right now where you had a Business Ethics paper due at 7AM - where you needed all the quiet you could get.

Reaching the apartment, you slotted the key into the lock, you pushed open the door to Jongin and Kyungsoo’s apartment. Stepping through the threshold you were greeted by darkness.

Flicking on the lights you took in the apartment. You had been in the apartment a handful of times when Chanyeol threw parties, but this was the first time you had been there on your own, literally.

From the neatly organized coffee table to the dust-less surfaces as far as the eye can see, the state of the apartment very much reflected that of the other owner - there was no way anyone would believe the human tornado that was Kim Jongin lived here otherwise.

Speaking of the other owner -

“Kyungsoo?”

Thank goodness for small mercies.

Do Kyungsoo, best friend of Jongin and probably the biggest enigma you've ever met. Not only was he more reserved and mild tempered in comparison to his flatmate, but he was the only one in your mutual friend group that you couldn’t bring yourself to get close to.

It wasn’t for a lack of trying, mind you. And to Kyungsoo’s credit he has never been rude to you, though you wouldn’t necessarily call it friendly either. Cordial at best...maybe. His deposition towards you, and apparently anyone who didn’t know him before the year 2015 was polite but distant. He was so different from the rest of his friends that one day Jennie had asked Jongin how he and Kyungsoo even lived together.

“We met freshman year-” Jongin said while spooning a mountain of orange chicken onto his plate.

“We were paired up as roommates and we just clicked - Kyungsoo is a great guy, he’s actually pretty hilarious”

“Really?” Jennie leaned in, abandoning her lo mein to gape at the man next to her.

“Its true!” Jongin said defensively at her expression, “how do I explain it-"

"You kind of have to approach him first, and then see how he responds. He just needs time to warm up to you, you'll see."

Now, you weren’t sure if Kyungsoo had ‘warmed up to you’ yet, but you definitely saw the man’s look of disgust as he caught you making kraft dinner in the microwave that one time during finals last semester.

Hot tip - never make microwave kraft dinner in front of a Culinary Arts major.

Checking your watch and noting it was half past ten, you settled down cross-legged at the coffee table in the living room. Pulling out your laptop and notes, you organized it all in front of you before rolling your neck and flexing your fingers.

“Now, where was I-”

After what seems like the hundredth time going over the same words over and over again, desperately making sure you didn’t have any spelling mistakes and that your citations were all correct, you finally hit save for the last time. Tapping the screen of your phone you brought it up to your face as you leant back against the couch, squinting as the time appeared.

2:35 AM

Stretching, you lifted yourself from your sitting position and began packing your laptop and papers away.

Exhausted, you crawled your way up onto the couch, pulled the Captain America themed throw blanket over your tired body, and closed your eyes, waiting for sleep to take you.

Which should have been an easy task.

Except Jongin apparently decided to buy the cheapest couch in Ikea.

No wonder the man lived on your sofa, he has never known true comfort.

Huffing, you sat up begrudgingly, groaning as your body objected to the movement. You glanced down the darkened hallway and pursed your lips.

Taking your bags you began shuffling down the hallway and stopped in front of one of the doors that was ajar. Slowly pushing it open you hesitantly stuck your head in. The sight of the various Mangas scattered on the floor confirmed that you had found the right bedroom.

I mean, there are worse places to sleep.

Making your way further into the room, you kicked the door closed as you made quick work of stripping out of your clothes and changing into your pajamas. You all but dove into the bed, not caring that it was unmade or that you probably should have changed the sheets. A content sigh escaped you as you sank into the mattress, sleep taking over.

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

Waking with a start, you were momentarily disoriented as you took in your surroundings. Blinking blearily around, it took a few seconds to remember where you were and why your bed smelled like Old Spice.

Ah, right.

Groaning, you glanced at the window and took in the darkness still.

You tried to close your eyes in hopes that you would be able to catch a few more minutes of sleep. However, instead of slipping into blissful sleep you found yourself tossing and turning, body restless in any position you put it in.

Pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes you lay there for a few moments. Blindly reaching towards the side table you fumbled with your phone, squinting as the screen illuminated your vision.

5:50 am

There is no God.

Finally accepting that you were not going to get any more sleep, you begrudgingly slid out of bed. Stretching, you began to make your way to the door, stifling a yawn as you opened it.

And immediately screamed.

“WHAT THE F- Kyungsoo?”

Standing in front of you was a hooded figure, looking just as startled as you were. Hand grasping the handle leading to the room directly across the hall, Kyungsoo had turned at the sound of Jongin’s door opening and his eyes widened almost comically at your presence.

As the fuzziness of sleep was lifted you realized that it must have been the sound Kyungsoo entering the apartment that woke you up. And judging from the incredulous look he was giving you, Jongin must not have told him you were there. Taking in his baseball cap and casual attire, you felt your eyebrows furrow.

Did he just get back?

You watched as his eyes slid down and you were suddenly very much aware of the lopsided bun that had come half undone in your sleep and the thin material of your pajamas. His eyes then darted from your own to the bedroom and back, eyebrows furrowing.

Your eyes widened at the silent question glinting in those dark eyes. Your hands immediately flew up as you began sputtering.

“It's not what it looks like!“ you began frantically and he only lifted a dark brow higher in a silent bid for you to continue. “Jongin was staying over at our place last night and I came here to give them privacy, you know how they are, it’s like National Geographic except nobody asked for it”

He shot you a bemused look.

You felt yourself flush and looked at the space of the wall next to his head “And well, I didn't get kicked out of my own bed to sleep on a couch… So I slept... in here" gesturing to the bedroom behind you awkwardly.

There was another beat of silence.

Great. Fantastic. Realll smooth. It seemed that without fail, every time you are in the immediate presence of the man across from you, you feel yourself suddenly tense up. Which is stupid, considering the fact that you are friends (distant acquaintances), and have been around each other for months now and got along great (cordial at best), surely by now you can have a normal conversation at the very least.

Speaking of conversation, you also become hyperaware of the fact that the other person in the hallway has yet to say a single word to you. Palms beginning to sweat, you began to scramble to think of something - anything - to cut the silence. As if your insane ramblings weren’t bad enough. He probably thinks you’re even more of a raging lunatic, compounded with what happened last semester. Why, why, of all things why did you have to crave Kraft Dinner for fucks sake-

“I see.”

Your inner monologue was cut short by a low reply. it seemed Kyungsoo deemed your answer acceptable, nodding slowly to himself.

You almost felt your body sag in relief, shifting your weight on the balls of your feet.

As another beat of silence passed, you fidgeted again as you were regarded by the dark haired man. Kyungsoo had yet to make any move towards his own room and you suddenly didn’t know what to do with your hands.

Someone kill me.

You cleared your throat, “Umm...so now that that's cleared up… I’m just going to... go over...there” gesturing to the bathroom. You didn’t even wait for him to answer you as you powered your way past him and slipped into the bathroom, pressing your back against the door as it closed behind you.

You waited with baited breath as you heard silence from the hallway. Eventually after what felt like an eternity, there was a shuffling of feet, and the clicking of a door closing from down the hall.

Silently making the motion of bashing your head against the door, you let out a deep breath. Shaking your head you flicked on the light and picked up Jongin’s papaya face wash.

I mean, that could have been worse.

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

Making your way across campus, you faltered slightly as a yawn made its way through you. After submitting your paper to your professor's dropbox you had spent the day catching up on the never ending tasks you had on your to-do list. You had holed yourself up at the campus library and it wasn’t until your stomach decided to do its best impression of a Harley Davidson that you decided it was probably best to call it a day.

Pulling out your phone you pulled out a delivery app and started browsing the menu for the greek place a block down from your apartment. Flicking through the menu, you contemplated between the Pork Souvlaki or the Chicken gyro...maybe Jennie would be willing to go half and ha-.

You halted on the sidewalk.

Right.

Jennie.

Jennie who is currently still at your apartment.

With Jongin.

Well, shit.

Switching to your messages you sent a text to Jennie.

You: All clear?

You watched with bated breath as the three dots appeared at the bottom.

A sock emoji.

Lovely.

Sitting down at a nearby bench, you began sending out a barrage of texts.

After about 20 minutes of asking around you found out that Jisoo was out of town seeing her parents, Rose’s apartment building was apparently being fumigated for the second time this month and Seulgi was having Irene and Wendy over and you didn’t think you wanted to be part of whatever freaky party those three were going to have.

With every text that came in you felt yourself slowly deflate more and more. Placing your hand in your jacket, you grasped the keys that were in your pocket. They felt heavier than they should be.

There was one other option.

Grimacing, you flushed as you remembered the painfully awkward conversation you exchanged with a particular dark haired man this morning. There was no doubt in your mind that he would be home if you went over now, and you didn’t even want to begin imagining how this interaction will go.

You bit down on your bottom lip in worry as you brain tried playing out the various scenarios in your head. All in all, Kyungsoo didn’t seem to care all that much this morning, but then again when have you ever seen Kyungsoo care about anything.

Come on, think. Well, what do we know...

He is a mutual friend (questionable), for starters. If you both are able to get along with the dumperfire that is your friend group you have to have something in common.. Right?

You stopped fiddling with the keys in your pocket as the realization hit you.

Pulling up your contacts you scanned down the list before pressing ‘call’.

“Oi, Jongin. Does Kyungsoo like Greek?”

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

Turns out no, Kyungsoo does not, in fact, like Greek.

According to Jongin, Kyungsoo is obsessed with this weird hole-in-the-wall Italian place that had handmade pasta. What was supposed to be a 10 minute walk ended up taking 45 minutes as you got lost 3 times, and once you finally found the store the doors were locked. What restaurant shuts down from 3 to 5 on a Friday?

Hipster pasta makers, apparently.

It was lost to you what the appeal was, but if there was anything that you learned in the years as a young adult living on their own, it was that there were two sure-fire ways to bond with someone:

Get drunk

Eat good food while drunk

The latter was not necessarily limited to ‘good’ food - after a few shots to you a McNugget is like a Michelen meal. However you had a gut feeling that Kyungsoo wouldn’t be too welcoming if you showed up with tacos and tequila.

So did you wait around for an hour and a half just to order something you could have bought as Lean Cuisine?

You bet your ass you did.

Because nothing says I’m sorry I know we barely know each other but our friends are banging so were kind of stuck together quite like overpriced spaghetti and meatballs.

Adjusting the paper bag in your arms you walked up to the familiar door. Fumbling with the key you finally managed to wedge it open and stepped through the threshold.

Unlike the last time you entered the apartment, this time you weren’t met with silence. The lights were already on and the sound of the TV filtered throughout the apartment. Toeing off your shoes and arranging them neatly next to the pair by the door.

Arms full of take out you were all of a sudden nervous to turn the corner.

You are once again reminded of the fact that you are very much not close with this man and this will probably be the first time you ever said more than 4 sentences to him in one sitting. And now you are about to have dinner together, alone.

"You kind of have to approach him first, and then see how he responds. He just needs time to warm up to you, you'll see"

Kim Jongin don’t you fail me now.

Kyungsoo was sitting on the couch looking at his phone when you entered the living room. He immediately looked up and you watched his eyes widen marginally at your presence, clearly not expecting you back.

“I…” The mini speech you had been preparing during the 12 minute walk to the apartment died in your throat as you made eye contact with the dark haired man in front of you. The look he gave you left you momentarily thrown, it was a look that instantly made you think that he was annoyed with you with the way his eyebrows were drawn and the slight frown tugging at the corners of his mouth.

It wasn’t until you saw Kyungsoo’s eyes slide to the bag in your arms briefly, and the slightest flicker of curiosity gave you the courage to push on.

“Jongin is still my place,” you offered, and watched as his eyes flit back to meet your own.

“So,” you continued, shifting the bag in your arms, “I brought some dinner, as a peace offering of sorts, I guess. I hope you’re hungry, because they gave us enough garlic bread to feed a small Italian village.” you let out an awkward laugh.

Kyungsoo looked at you as if you had grown a second head. You didn’t blame him, but you were too far gone to back down now, even if the man was giving you a shoulder so cold it could freeze Sahara.

Making your way into the kitchen you placed the bag on the counter and began taking plates out of the cabinets, trying to keep your trembling hands busy.

Stupid, stupid, this whole idea was stupid.

As you were transferring the food from the containers you heard a slight rustling behind you.

You almost turned around when you didn’t hear anything else, but then a deep voice spoke up, albeit hesitantly.

“Is that from Giulietta’s?”

Stiffening a smile you did not respond to the man immediately when he materialized at your side.

Humming in affirmation you handed him his plate, which he took slowly, eyeing the food suspiciously.

I swear, this guy.

It wasn’t until you had dished out your own plate that you turned to him finally and gave him what you hoped was a friendly smile.

“So, have you watched the new season of Great British Bakeoff?”

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

“Have a nice weekend? Actually don’t answer that, I really don’t want to know.” You didn’t even look up from your laptop as Jennie slid into the seat next to you at your morning lecture.

“Jongin has been doing ballet for years, I swear I never knew a body could bend like-”

“Ew. Gross Jennie, it’s 9AM”

“I have no concept of time anymore, the man wouldn’t let me sleep-”

“Jennifer, please, this is a sacred place.”

“This is Introduction to Environmental Science, most of the people here are too worried about cleaning baby ducks with Dawn soap than to eavesdrop”

Groaning you buried your head in your hands and took a deep breath. You really should have stopped by the Cafe next door and got some coffee, you aren’t nearly coherent enough to deal with this.

“Hey,” Jennie started, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Thanks again for stepping out and giving us the apartment for the weekend, I really appreciate it”

“You’re lucky I like you.

“Oh please-”

“-I barely got out of there alive.”

“Come on, it couldn’t have been that bad.”

It wasn’t, actually.

Last night you and Kyungoo had sat in their living room and watched the Great British Bakeoff while you ate your dinner. You thanked whatever higher power there was that Kyungsoo was not a stickler for eating at the dinner table. Or maybe he was, but also thought this situation was incredibly awkward and also wanted some sort of distraction to avoid having to make small talk.

It wasn’t wholly unpleasant, you actually found yourself mildly enjoying yourself. He was a man of a few words but every now and again he would sprinkle in some choice commentary here and there, making noncommittal noises when a contestant added a new ingredient.

Odd fellow, this one.

He was polite enough to stick around for a couple of episodes before standing and offering to take your plate.

“Would you like something else? Jongin keeps ice cream sandwiches in the fridge”

“Oh...no, I’m ok thanks”

You were absolutely going to have one later.

Giving a curt nod, he walked back to the kitchen to wash the dishes. After a few minutes he returned to the living room, shifting uneasily on his feet. He had this thoughtful, intense expression, almost searching. For what, you had no idea but it made you fidget nonetheless, breaking eye contact and pick at imaginary lint on your sweater.

You were about to make some excuse about needing to go back to the library - because you sure as hell weren’t going to stick around here - when he mumbled something about having papers to grade before disappearing down the hall to his room without another word.

A few more moments passed before you let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Well, that’s that I guess.

“It went fine. He was...nice”

“Nice.”

“As nice as you can be with a stranger invading your space unnanounced.”

“So dramatic, it’s not like you two are strangers.”

“I don’t even think he knows my name.”

“We have all hung out loads of times before-”

“I have spoken to him more in the last 12 hours than I have in the last 12 months”

“And who’s fault is that? If anything, that's progress, you should be thanking me. Kyungsoo’s a hoot”

You leveled her with a look.

“...have I told you how much I love you today?”

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

A/N: Had this in my drafts for over 2 years. Hoping by posting I’ll be motivated to actually finish it~

#muse: kyungsoo #genre: romance #genre: smut #do kyungsoo #kyungsoo fanfic #kyungsoo imagine #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #exo #kyungsoo #length: chaptered

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hotdogct · 3 years

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under the same sky ||| teaser

“An age where you feel like you could love anyone, where you put everything on the line for the smallest of things. Eighteen. Adults say that it’s an age where we laugh if a leaf tumbles by. But back then, we were more serious than any adult, more intense, and had our strength tested...That was how our eighteen was beginning.”

-Sung Shi-Won, 응답하라 1997.

Synopsis: 1999. Amongst the sea of white raincoats and balloons belonging to Club H.O.T. you befriend Kim Jungwoo - a boy with a secret - who immediately fills your world with vivid color. With the new millennium approaching almost as quickly as high school graduation, your heart belongs to one man only: Kangta. And as his own future looms in the distance, Jungwoo can’t decide if merely idolizes the man, or if he wants to be the next Kangta.

He is certain of one thing, however: he is absolutely smitten by you.

Pairing: Student!Jungwoo x (f) Student!Reader

Genre: late 90′s!au. fluff, slice of life. friends-to-lovers, angst-ish. painful ending, you’ve been warned. 💀 Word Count: 10k++++ (teaser: 1.5k) Release Date: ???

Snoopy0219: how am i going to find you tomorrow! Snoopy0219: should i sing out ‘baaa baaaaa’ like i’m looking for a sheep in a pasture?? Baabaakangta: hahahhahahahahhahahaaaa please Baabaakangta: would you actually?? Snoopy0219: ;) you underestimate me Snoopy0219: do you have a pager?? lets exchange numbers Snoopy0219: or you could dress up as a sheep hehe Snoopy0219: that would be one way to have kangta notice you!!! Baabaakangta: >:( not. funny. Baabaakangta: i’ll be wearing a cow print hat, i’ll have a snoopy related gift sitting outside my bag?? Snoopy0219: okay!! i’ll go up and down the line ‘baa baaaaaaa’ing until i find you!! ^__^ Snoopy0219: see you tomorrow, sheep!!!!!!

You nervously look around as you settle into your spot in line, in no immediate rush to sit down on the hard concrete. While there weren’t many others amongst the crowd, it dawns on you you aren’t the only one sporting a big, fluffy, cow print bucket hat. Thinking back to your conversation with Snoopy the night before, you pull the small dog plush you had bought as a gift for your new friend out of your drawstring bag, making sure it would be visible to anyone passing by.

Time slowly passes once you sit. At first you’re eager to fidget with your pager - sending a quick ‘8282’ to Snoopy, checking nervously every few minutes for a reply. Eventually the device vibrates in your lap, notifying you that she was on her way. The atmosphere was getting livelier by the minute, with fan groups dispersed neatly all around the perimeter of the arena, identifiable immediately by the color of their balloons and raincoats. Fan club leaders equipped with bullhorns led their respective contingents in song and chants, a preview of the many performances to come later that evening. Club H.O.T. was no exception, with girls going up and down the ever-growing line handing out support goods and spare white balloons, while ‘Hope’ played on repeat through a boombox towards the front of the queue. When you first arrived, the unexpected fervor of fanchants made you flinch, but after a couple of minutes you found yourself joining in, mindlessly adding your voice to the collective.

All of your senses were overwhelmed. There wasn’t much time for your mind to ruminate anxiously about finally meeting Snoopy face to face. Nothing about her had seemed dangerous - which is why you extended the invite in the first place. On the very slim chance that she turned out to be a creep, she’d be insane to harm you in such a crowded place. You weren’t really worried about getting along with Snoopy - you knew that wouldn’t be a problem from your extensive chat logs. Rather you were terrified of what she would think of you - if she would even want to be your friend after meeting you in person...

“Baa baa?”

Your pulse increases rapidly, hearing the agreed upon saying that you and Snoopy had laughed about last night. But when you stand up and turn around to get a good first look at your new friend, your jaw drops open.

Standing before you, scratch that - above you is a...boy? He towers over you, black hair with messy overgrown bangs that surely had to impact his field of vision, framed in contrast by the hood of his standard issue white raincoat. His features were round - expressive eyes, button nose, full cheeks and chapped lips, currently pressed together and curved upward in a smile. He blinks once, twice, tilts his head slightly to the side, much as a dog might.

“Baa baa? It’s me, Snoopy.”

Unbelievable, you think to yourself. It takes you a moment to find your voice amidst the living nightmare you suddenly were inhabiting, but you knew you had to be assertive and stand your ground.

“Did she really send her brother to prank me?! Get lost.”

If the boy was insulted, he sure didn’t look it. He was unfazed - the same soft smile remained on his face despite your hostility, as if he was aware of something you weren’t.

“Sheep, it’s really me, honest.”

“Prove it.”

You regret your words the moment they leave your mouth. Without hesitation or warning, the boy swiftly closes the gap between you two, his face too close for comfort as it grazes past your own; his hot breath tickling your forehead, cheek, and finally your ear, where he whispers:

“I know aaaaallllll about that dream you had the other day, the one where you ran into Kangta at the convenience store and then, you know...~~’

Stunned into silence, cheeks-practically-burning-off-of-your-face-they're-so-red, you resist your immediate urge to slap this guy across the face, the nerve of the pervert…! Instead you thrust your arms out, making contact with his chest and successfully managing to push him away. He stumbles two, three steps back, his hands up in defense.

“T-that was in confidence, you jerk!” you stutter out, looking down at the ground and praying your beet red cheeks would calm down sooner rather than later, covering them with your hands.

The boy laughs - rather loudly, melodically, and pulls a pager out of his back pocket. Seconds later, the telltale notification lands on your respective device. The sharp features of your face softened slightly at the realization. Snoopy, he really was...

Lifting your head back up, you scan the boy standing in front of you over once, twice - this time taking notice of his lanky frame, narrow shoulders, tiny waist. Certainly non-threatening, but you’re still skeptical.

“I’m really sorry, it was never my intention to mislead you. Let’s start this over.” the boy clears his throat, and then bows, softly. “It’s nice to meet you! I’m Snoopy, but since that hasn’t really worked out...you can call me by my actual name - it’s Jungwoo.”

“Uh-huh, Jungwoo. Is this how you pick up girls? Chat them up on Club H.O.T. and then-”

“I wasn’t lying about my love for H.O.T.!” He interrupts you, hands waving wildly in the air. “I think they’re the coolest!”

At this he steps back and begins dancing the all too familiar choreography for “Candy”, singing out loud to the chorus timidly. You dimly recall Snoopy Jungwoo mentioning the hours he would spend learning each new dance routine, and the effort clearly showed - his movements bright and sharp throughout the chorus. You could’ve sworn he was defying gravity when he jumped - you had never seen someone so lightweight on their feet before.

And yet your expression was unreadable - mind a blur on account of the entire situation unfolding in front of you. Jungwoo notices this as he finishes, the smile dropping from his face as he catches his breath. Silence falls briefly between you both.

“...you really think I’d travel all the way here from Gimpo for a joke?”

There was now a tinge of sadness apparent in Jungwoo’s voice, and guilt washes over you in a sudden, cold wave. You can feel his eyes on you, the weight of your initial cruelty and skepticism like a hundred stones in each pocket.

“I love dancing, I love singing,” he continues. “I genuinely think H.O.T. are the best, are the coolest. I’m studying to be an engineer - I love school, I get good grades. Why can’t I enjoy both things?” When you fail to come up with any semblance of a retort, Jungwoo sighs, shifts his weight back and forth on his hips.

“That's why I didn’t tell you the truth. It’s why I’m here now. If word got out back home that I was a card carrying Club H.O.T. member...” he fishes around for his wallet in his back pocket, fumbles through the card slots until finding his membership card, showing it to you with shaky hands, “I wouldn’t hear the end of it.”

There, printed in clean handwriting, was his name: 김정우.

You believed him by now - honestly you had the moment your pager went off while he was standing right in front of you. Snoopy, Jungwoo - whatever they wanted to call themselves - was your friend. What difference did his gender make, anyways? With a firm mental reminder to not share any of your dirty daydreams about Kangta going forward, you decided to finally drop your guard. It was time to have some fun.

“Some advice?” Jungwoo looks up at you upon hearing your voice, in the middle of putting his membership card back in his wallet. “If you don’t want your friends to find that card, maybe don’t carry it in your wallet.”

Jungwoo struggles for a moment before figuring out you were screwing with him. Once he puts two and two together, it doesn’t take long for his boisterous, musical laugh you heard minutes prior to fill the space between you and him, head thrown back to the late afternoon sky. It was now his turn to feel flustered - although his cheeks seemed to take on a much more flattering pink tone to them when embarrassed, a trait you were quickly envious of. An unspoken concession occurs between the two of you as you sit down.

To Jungwoo, however - it felt much more like falling.

authors note: my first ‘big’ fic!!! my baby!!! she’s very much still a work in progress, but after nearly 2 months of wanting to commit to writing something longer and then sitting on my bum lol. this is what i’ve got so far, but i do have a full outline and i’m chipping away at it day by day. any kind of feedback or general excitement for this would be so appreciated 🥺

#kim jungwoo #jungwoo #nct fanfic #nct 127 fanfic #kim jungwoo fanfic #jungwoo fic #jungwoo x reader #jungwoo fanfic

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reyescarlos · 3 years

Text

someone to you || a tarlos fic

for the bright spot herself @sunshinestrand. i wonder if the sun ever gets jealous of how much warmth you give to everyone who is lucky enough to know you. i hope your special day is filled with as much light and love as you constantly give to us all. happy birthday, sweetheart! 💕💜

word count: 6.1k || read on ao3

I'll make the moon shine just for your view I'll make the starlight circle the room And if you feel like night is falling I wanna be the one you're calling

“If you don’t say something to him one of these days, I just might lose my mind,” Michelle says with a sigh as she approaches the counter where Carlos is standing.

He chews absentmindedly on his bottom lip as he looks over at TK. Everything to the guy is so effortless. Somehow he makes sitting down in a coffee shop look like an ad as he holds up his mug aloft and laughs at something one of his friends says.

Carlos would give anything to have that kind of access to TK, to be able to share in jokes and to simply know him. Carlos is fairly certain TK doesn’t even know they’re in the same lecture every Tuesday. But even in a hall filled with students, Carlos is always able to spot him, constantly dialed into his frequency like his favorite radio station.

Realizing that he’s been blatantly staring, Carlos clears his throat and looks away, mindlessly pouring sugar into a dispenser.

“It’s just a stupid crush. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Michelle rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well the way I see you gawk at him every week he shows up here says otherwise.”

Carlos can’t help it. In their class TK almost never speaks but each time he makes it out to an open mic, Carlos gets treated to TK quite literally under a spotlight, up on stage singing and playing his guitar or the keyboard.

“He’s really good. I like his sound is all.”

“Is that a euphemism?” Michelle teases, bumping her hip against Carlos’ as she passes by him. “I think it’s safe to say you like his everything.”

He jokingly glares at her before laughing. She’s definitely not wrong about that. Carlos has been crushing quietly since he first saw TK in their lecture at the start of term a little over two months ago. TK has been coming to open mic nights here at the cafe for the last month. Each week he performs, Carlos feels himself fall a little harder, swept up in his beautiful voice. Whether TK performs original music or a cover of something, he always brings the house down.

Michelle glances at her watch. “Oh, I have to start in just a few. Are you okay up here?”

“Yeah, I can tackle the counter. You go ahead.”

She pats his arm once with a smile before moving from behind the counter to head towards the stage to double check the microphones and setup for the evening’s session. He turns his focus back on refilling the dispensers in front of him. A shadow casts suddenly over the countertop, darkening his work area. Carlos looks up, his hand jerking forward in surprise to see TK smiling at him. Sugar spills against the surface, Carlos quickly tipping the bag upright to stem the flow.

“Shoot, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” TK says, grabbing a tissue and trying to clean up the grains of sugar.

Carlos grabs a dry rag from under the counter and wipes it away.

“No worries. It’s cool. Uh, can I get anything for you?” he asks, looking back at TK, doing his best to ignore the way his heart is hammering. This isn’t how he pictured his first substantial interaction with TK to go but he saves face as best he can.

“Could I trouble you for a scone?” TK says, jutting at the case with his thumb.

Carlos holds his breath and nods, clearing his throat, picking up the tongs and a plate. “Yeah, sure thing.”

TK smiles and Carlos can feel something inside his chest melt at the sight. Before he can dwell on it or potentially embarrass himself by randomly saying something to prolong the moment, he quickly puts the pastry on the dish. TK already has his card out, ready to pay for it.

Carlos ignores the slight tremble in his hands as he takes it, mentally reprimanding himself for getting so worked up over his brief and truly mundane conversation with TK.

“Here you go,” he says, handing back TK’s card and pushing the plate toward him.

TK thanks him and Carlos thinks that’s the end of their interaction until TK looks up again and eyes him thoughtfully.

“I feel like I know you.”

The phrasing makes his breath catch in his throat but he quickly realizes what TK actually means.

“We have a class together, don’t we?”

“Astronomy,” Carlos supplies.

TK snaps his fingers and points at him. “Right, yes. That’s it. Man, that was really bugging me. I knew I recognized you from somewhere other than here. It’s good to see you…”

“Carlos.”

“Carlos,” he repeats as if weighing the syllables on his tongue. “I’m TK. It’s nice to meet you officially.”

“Yeah, you too.”

The house lights dim and both TK and Carlos snap their heads towards the stage where Michelle approaches the microphone.

“Hello and welcome to open mic night here at Déjà Brew,” she greets. There’s a warm round of applause and eager cheering from the crowd gathered.

“It’s always so great seeing so many familiar faces and new ones alike. There are still slots available. Our sign up sheet will remain here just offstage for anyone that would like to perform,” she says, gesturing to her left. “Without further ado, please help me welcome one of our favorite regulars to the stage…Mr. TK Strand. Take it away, sir,” she muses.

TK turns back to Carlos and looks as if he wants to say something but the crowd is already giving him a warm, welcoming applause. He quickly takes his scone and hurries back to his table where one of his friends is holding out his guitar for him.

Carlos lets out a breath as TK approaches the stage and settles on the stool positioned right in the center of it. A few people whoop and cheer for him once again now that he’s situated. TK laughs coyly but the microphone sends his chuckle throughout the room.

“Thank you for that lovely intro, Michelle. Very flattering; I love being a favorite but really, who doesn’t?” he jokes, earning a few laughs. “I was debating what to play tonight. I’ve been working on some new stuff but finally settled on just going for one of my favorite songs by one of my favorite artists. This is The Girl by City and Colour, bastardized by me.”

There are a few more laughs, TK personable as ever that he makes each person feel like they’re old friends. Anyone who has ever heard him play knows there’s no way he won’t knock this cover out of the park.

From the first string TK plucks, the room is completely his. Carlos watches his fingers move expertly along the fretboard. It’s a real sight to see and as Carlos looks away from TK’s hands to his face, he can see just how much fun he’s having with the playful opening melody.

TK gets close to the mic and starts to sing and instantly Carlos leans closer, arms folded on the counter as he watches TK in action. There isn’t a single person speaking quietly to a friend or distracted by their phone. All eyes are glued to the musician on stage. Carlos could listen to TK play all day and never grow tired of the sound. It’s remarkable how his voice floats and cloaks the room, each note nestling in his chest like seeds.

The audience erupts into applause as TK’s final note rings out. He smiles to himself before looking out at the crowd.

“Thank you so much,” he says into the mic before slipping off his guitar and hopping down from the low stage.

Carlos can’t help but to smile as people TK passes give him thumbs up or murmur compliments as he returns to the table with his friends.

Michelle gets back on stage and introduces the next person on the sign up sheet.

The next performer is great but Carlos knows he’s more than a little biased in saying that TK will be the best person to hit the stage tonight.

He chances a glance over at TK and sees that TK is looking at him as he breaks off a piece of his scone. Carlos quickly looks away and focuses on other tasks throughout the rest of his shift, ones that don’t include keeping tabs on the comings and goings of a certain musician.

The night comes to a close, marking yet another successful open mic night. Given that it’s Friday, most of the crowd dissipated as the evening progressed to perhaps party or hang out elsewhere. TK and his friends opted to stay for the entire session, as they almost always do, showing support to each performer who graced the stage.

As TK and his group begin to file out for the night, Carlos waves them off as they say their thanks for another fun night at the shop. Carlos turns his back for a moment to replenish silverware when he hears the quick rap of knuckles on the counter. He turns and is greeted to TK’s bright and open smile up close for the second time this evening.

“So, I’ll see you on Tuesday, right?” he says, hitching the strap of his guitar case up his shoulder.

Brought up short at TK essentially singling him out just then, Carlos nods slowly before he finds his voice again.

“Yeah, definitely. I’ll uh, I’ll see you next week.”

“Cool. Have a good night, Carlos,” TK replies simply with the smile that hasn’t left his face. He knocks on the counter once as if to punctuate his sentence and slinks away to join his friends just outside of the shop.

“Looks like you made it onto someone’s radar tonight,” Michelle sing-songs, settling in beside him.

Carlos stares out the window at TK with his friends, one guy nudging his arm as they begin to walk away. Once they’re out of view, Carlos turns back to look at her.

“He’s just being nice.”

“Denial runs deep in you, doesn’t it?” she teases, shaking her head. “Come on, let’s try and finish up so you can have some of the night to yourself, loverboy.”

~*~*~

On Tuesday Carlos makes sure he shows up early for his lecture, standing outside of the hall doors waiting for the group before him to clear out. Today has the potential to be so different from all the other lectures that have come before it. This Tuesday in particular marks the first time TK will truly know of his existence in the hall too.

He tries to settle his nerves by reading news on his phone but he’s too anxious to focus on the words for long. He gives up with a sigh, tucking his phone into his pocket when TK comes bounding toward him with a bemused smile.

“I was hoping you’d come early, too. We didn’t really get a chance to talk much on Friday,” TK says, completely blowing past any formal greeting. Carlos is taken aback by that candor.

“Yeah, I guess not. You were great, by the way. I mean, you always are but...I really liked your performance. I’ve pretty much been listening to the song on a loop since Friday so thanks for the rec.”

Carlos’ heart nosedives as he realizes what he’s just disclosed so openly. But TK doesn’t appear to think it an odd statement. His face lights up, genuinely pleased.

“Oh yeah? That’s awesome.”

“You’ve got great taste in music though, I guess that really shouldn’t be surprising.”

TK laughs. “I’d be majoring in the wrong field if I didn’t, that’s for sure.”

Before Carlos can reply, the doors to the lecture hall open, students filing out into the hallway. Carlos thinks this kills off the chance of speaking to TK still but the guy stays close to him once the doors are clear enough for them to enter too.

“Hey, do you mind if I sit with you today?” TK asks.

Carlos quickly shakes his head. “Uh, no. Not at all.”

He heads up the flight of stairs in the hall, taking up his usual seat. The one beside him is typically home for his backpack but today it’s TK’s frame that settles into the chair.

Carlos takes covert glances at him from the corner of his eye. It was truly so much easier to look at him when he was across the hall these last few weeks. This close up, it’s much harder to sneak and get an open look. But just sitting beside him makes Carlos so acutely aware of TK’s movements.

As the lecture starts, he zones out in favor of taking notice each time TK toys with the strings on his hoodie or his leg bounces restlessly.

The hour and a half passes in a blur and Carlos is surprised to look down and realize he actually still managed to take a decent amount of notes. Their professor reminds them of an upcoming assignment to which TK groans and quickly writes something down in his book, underlining it twice.

“I totally spaced on that.”

“Was that meant to be an astronomy pun?” Carlos cringes at himself but TK laughs heartedly.

“That was a good one.” He closes his notebook and puts it back into his bag, Carlos following suit and packing up his things as well. “But seriously, I completely forgot the deadline was coming up so quickly.”

“I could...if you need someone to go through it with you or anything, I could help,” he offers.

“Carlos, that’s so sweet of you but you don’t have to do that. I got myself into this mess. I’ll figure something out. But, I mean, maybe I could get your number just in case I hit a snag or something?”

The quick turnaround from feeling rejected to elated is jarring but Carlos smiles and says, “Definitely, yeah.”

TK flashes a smile back and takes his phone out, unlocking it before surrendering it to Carlos to create a new contact. When Carlos is done, he hands the phone back to TK who looks at the newest addition to his phone.

“Cool.” TK sends him a quick text. “Just in case you need to get in touch with me for any reason before then, now you can.”

That phrasing sounds like a challenge, as if TK is now tipping the ball into his court.

“I’ll keep that in mind ,” he says.

~*~*~

Texting with TK becomes such a part of Carlos’ daily routine now. It’s to the point where he comes to expect a message from TK each time his phone buzzes as they’ve had a pretty consistent chain going all week. TK’s most recent text, however, wasn’t a Spotify link to a song he thought Carlos might like but rather an SOS to help him complete his astronomy assignment. The message was followed with TK’s building and room number and the entire walk across campus is spent with Carlos’ heart racing until he’s knocking at TK’s door.

“Thank you,” TK immediately says as he lets Carlos in. “I almost didn’t text you to come over but I’m pretty sure I’ve been doing this wrong.”

Carlos looks around the room as he steps in, clearly picking up on which side is TK’s. There are guitar picks and sheet music on one of the desks, two guitar cases leaning against the wall by the foot of one bed. Above the bed itself is a stylish black and white map of Manhattan. Carlos smiles to himself seeing these traces of TK in the space.

“You can grab a seat,” TK says, gesturing to the desk chair. TK sits at the foot of the bed, a small gap of space separating them.

The air feels charged but Carlos is certain that’s all in his head. Being alone in TK’s room is worlds away from sitting beside him during their lectures.

“Okay, let’s see what you have so far,” Carlos says, determined to focus on the task at hand.

They work for about two hours, getting distracted with cracking jokes every now and then and talking about random things as they eventually end up on the floor with papers and charts spread out between them. It’s a mess but Carlos looks over all that they have and draws one very clear conclusion.

“We did it. You’re officially done.”

TK throws his hands up in victory and laughs, flopping down to rest his back on the floor and stare up at the ceiling.

“Holy shit. Thank you. Again. You’re a lifesaver; I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” He turns his head to look at Carlos who merely shrugs.

But Carlos can’t deny how good it feels to be of help and save TK from the stress he’s been feeling with this assignment hanging over his head. TK is looking at him as if he’s a saint or something. Carlos can feel the back of his neck warming up and busies himself with gathering the sheets of paper around them to avoid looking at TK for even a moment longer before that blush spreads to his face.

“What are friends for, right?” he says, only daring to look back at TK now that he’s collected himself.

TK eyes him thoughtfully and Carlos holds his breaths as he waits to see what TK will have to say.

“Lucky me for having you as mine.”

~*~*~

TK has been frequenting the shop more often than his usual Friday nights. Now Carlos has come to expect him here and there but on Sundays mostly where the crowd is far less dense and the evenings are slowgoing enough that Carlos can actually linger behind the counter and chat with him. It’s become a common occurrence for TK to plant himself at one of the elevated seats and work on assignments. More often than not, the books get neglected for long stretches of time. It’s a comfortable routine, one that Carlos has been finding himself growing dependent on.

TK helps him clean up for the night, offering to sweep while Carlos closes out the registers. They don’t speak much as they focus on their tasks but there’s a comfort in just having TK there, to look up from counting the till to see him moving about the room. This coffee shop really belongs to them in their own ways and now they’ve managed to find yet another way to make it special.

Carlos gets back to his closing duties as TK volunteers to put the trash out back. While he’s gone, Carlos makes a quick to-go cup of green tea, TK’s usual, as thanks. TK comes back in and heads over to wash his hands in the bathroom.

When he returns, he joins Carlos at the counter who pushes the cup forward.

“For your hard work tonight,” Carlos says.

TK smirks and picks it up, bringing the cup to his mouth. “If you keep this up, you may never get rid of me.”

“Ah, so you’re on to me then.” The words slip from his lips so easily but TK doesn’t seem put off. Instead the boy smiles into his cup as he takes a sip.

Relieved, Carlos takes his store keys out of his bag and heads for the door. TK steps out as he flips off the switch, the shop plunged in darkness as he locks back.

“Thanks again for sticking around and helping me,” he says as they begin to head back to campus. “You really didn’t have to do any of that.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s the least I could do. You completely saved my ass last week and besides, it was just...nice. I like hanging out with you.”

Carlos bites the inside of his cheek to keep from breaking out into a ridiculous grin. He feels like he’s in middle school again with just how much he’s been crushing on TK but he can’t help it. His stomach always seems to do cartwheels when TK is around, especially when he makes statements like this.

They walk alongside each other in comfortable silence for a time. Carlos does his best not to keep stealing glances at TK but it’s easier said than done. A few times he’s caught TK looking at him which throws him off guard but it’s certainly not unwelcome.

“How old were you when you started playing?” he asks as they near campus.

“I always sort of grew up around the piano. My mom played and she had one in the apartment so I’d sit with her sometimes and she taught me a few things here and there. But I didn’t start taking it really seriously until I was about seven, maybe eight. It was our thing, you know? My parents...things with them went south and she was busy a lot with work. But whenever we did get to check in with each other, we’d find ourselves on the piano bench together. I loved that time with her, even though it became harder and harder to come by the older I got.”

Carlos smiles a bit sadly. But, he thinks, it says a lot that TK is able to be so candid with him about his upbringing. It’s pretty personal insight and yet TK extends it to him so freely. He supposes TK may just be an open guy in general but it still means a lot to be trusted in this manner.

“Wow, that took a turn, I’m sorry,” TK laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“No, it’s okay, really. I don’t mind at all.” TK nods at this and continues after a beat.

“I got my first guitar on my tenth birthday from my dad. I think he was trying to speak our language in his own way and I really appreciated it. I took to that pretty well and became a bit obsessed, clearly. Totally thought I was going to be a kid rockstar,” he jokes. “Anyway, music’s always been there for as long as I can remember.”

“That’s really cool, TK. Most people go on a long journey to find the thing that’s right for them but your passion found you early on.”

Carlos’ building comes into view and each step towards it fills him with utter dread. They’ve already managed to stretch this night but greedily, it’s still not enough for him.

As they come to a stop outside the doors to his building, TK stares at him and for a wild moment, Carlos thinks TK might kiss him. TK does lean in but it’s to give a hug, one in which Carlos gladly reciprocates.

“It was great getting to hang out with you tonight. I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too,” Carlos replies, subtly drawing in a breath and breathing TK in as they embrace.

TK begins to pull away after a moment and places a soft kiss on Carlos’ cheek.

Carlos is sure his face flushes and he’s all too grateful for the cover of night to disguise it. They both avoid each other’s gaze for a second before laughing a bit. TK stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Carlos tries to remember how to form a sentence.

“Goodnight, TK,” he says softly.

TK searches his eyes for a moment, almost pensively before smiling faintly.

“Goodnight, Carlos. Sweet dreams.”

~*~*~

Carlos has not been able to shake his walk home with TK. Each time he thinks about it, he can practically feel TK’s lips on his cheek. It was such a modest kiss, a quick peck that probably didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things and yet, it’s all he can think about.

On Tuesday they sat beside each other, same as always and have continued chatting regularly through texts. Neither has made even the smallest hint or mention of what happened Sunday night. It makes Carlos wonder if he’s been blowing this out of proportion or if TK is just as clueless on what comes next as he is.

The latter seems almost comical. TK is perhaps the smoothest, most confident guy he knows. If he wanted to progress things further, he would have already.

Carlos does his best not to stare now at TK’s table. Friday night has rolled around once again and while Carlos is excited to see TK perform, it’s hard to see him and not feel transported back to Sunday night. The phantom sensation of that chaste kiss has kept him up every night this week.

“You okay?” Michelle asks, pulling Carlos from his thoughts.

Carlos blinks twice and nods. “Yeah, just tired I guess.” His eyes flicker to where TK is seated.

Something about him seems off tonight. Normally he’d be the liveliest one at the table but TK seems withdrawn.

Michelle makes a noncommittal hum but says nothing else on the matter and Carlos is grateful for it. She excuses herself to start tonight’s event.

He busies himself with customers who approach the counter as the evening kicks off, the backdrop of performers truly background noise as he works.

Michelle calls TK to the stage when it’s his turn and immediately Carlos zeroes in on his table. TK’s friend pats him on the back before letting out a whoop as he settles up on stage before the keyboard.

“Hey, guys. This one’s been playing on my mind a lot these days. Figured I should do something with it and free it somehow. So, yeah. This is Bloodstream by Stateless.”

TK clears his throat and it’s strange but for the first time, the young man actually looks and sounds nervous. He looks over at Carlos who smiles encouragingly. TK blinks twice and looks down at the keys, brows deepened before playing.

The melody he plays is eerie but beautiful, Carlos’ interest all the more piqued as TK’s fingers strike deftly. The song is haunting, TK’s voice much more gravelly than usual and it’s all so captivating that Carlos holds his breath as he listens.

I think I might’ve inhaled you I could feel you behind my eyes

“Gee, wonder who this one is for,” Michelle says, coming up beside him at the counter for a glass of water.

Carlos can’t even offer a response as he continues to watch TK. The guy’s eyes are closed as he croons into the mic, his shoulders bouncing as he strikes the right notes.

He feels goosebumps watching TK perform and can’t help but to hope there’s some validity in what Michelle is not so subtly hinting at.

TK tinkers around on the keyboard for the last few notes, his eyes landing on Carlos for the briefest of seconds as the audience claps for him. He thanks them and rises from his seat, hopping off the stage and returning to his table— but not without another look at Carlos before he sits once more with his friends.

Carlos feels shaken, his heart ricocheting like a pinball.

He hopes so fiercely that TK’s performance was a declaration of some kind but the night ends for the first time since they’ve befriended each other with an awkward smile and wave from a distance as TK and his friends leave.

Carlos isn’t sure what to make of any of this.

~*~*~

The strange energy doesn’t last long. The very next day TK shoots him a random humorous text and Carlos is glad for the ice breaker as it allows them to get back on track. They easily fall into their usual routine and as the week progresses, the night at the shop soon seems like a lifetime away.

TK invites Carlos to his dorm to hang out Wednesday afternoon and Carlos is all too happy to accept, taking advantage of his free time to head over to TK’s building.

From what he can discern, TK’s roommate is the next best thing to living alone. The guy is never in the room, leaving Carlos with uninterrupted time to just talk and be around TK any time he visits.

TK sits at the foot of the bed with his guitar, plucking out a melody for a song he’s been working on and hoping to debut at open mic. He’s got a pencil trapped between his teeth as he plays, stopping occasionally to jot down a note in the open book beside him. It’s fascinating to watch his process from his spot in the middle of TK’s bed, seeing how he develops an idea from a mere thought to an actual song, to something tangible.

“I hope this one goes over well on Friday,” TK mutters, moreso to himself.

“I know it will. Everyone loves you there and your songs are always a huge hit. This won’t be any different.”

TK smiles warmly at his sentiment. “Thanks. It’s always a bit nerve wracking to perform something new and original but it’s pretty exciting, too.”

Carlos shakes his head and laughs, resting his back against the wall.

“I could never do what you do.”

TK finger picks without even looking at the fret as he eyes Carlos quizzically.

“What? Play or perform?”

“Both. I love music but I don’t have the talent for learning. And performing? Ha, there’s no way you’d ever catch me in front of a crowd. But every week you get up there and knock it out of the park. It’s incredible though.”

TK’s mouth twists to the side slightly before he sets his guitar back into its case on the ground and turns to face Carlos again.

“Lay down,” TK says unexpectedly. Carlos is sure his expression must be bewildered because TK laughs and rolls his eyes. “I’m not about to steal your virtue. Just...settle back for a second.”

Carlos does as he’s instructed and stretches out on TK’s bed completely, his head coming to rest on the guy’s pillow. TK’s scent is everywhere and with the young man smiling over him now as he sits just to the left of him on the edge of the small bed, it’s enough to make his head spin and heart stop. He stares at him as TK speaks.

“Playing is a lot easier than you might think. It’s all about proper placement and timing.” He sets his fingertips against Carlos’ ribcage like they’re keys on a piano.

Carlos searches his face as TK mimics playing and hums a melody. It sounds familiar to Carlos but he can’t place it; it’s something classical, he knows. But his main focus is on TK’s light touches, each press of his fingertips like ripples on the surface of water. His long fingers skate up and down Carlos’ side as TK continues to play as if he’s on a Steinway.

It’s a marvel watching his expression. It’s all make-believe but Carlos has no doubt TK can see it all as clear as day in his mind’s eyes, the ivory and black keys. Though his gaze is fixed on TK’s face, the young man doesn’t lose his own focus and doesn’t catch Carlos’ eye until the final note.

“See? Nothing to it,” TK says, eyes shining with amusement.

It isn’t a conscious decision, that much Carlos knows as he sits up slowly and inches closely to TK, his hand cupping the nape of his neck. He doesn’t typically make bold moves but the draw he feels to TK is simply too much to ignore now.

TK falls silent and stares at him but doesn’t move away, his lips parting. After a beat, he draws nearer as well. Their noses touch, Carlos nuzzling gently before bringing his mouth to TK’s. That first press sends a spark shooting down his spine but Carlos doesn’t hurry or balk at the sensation. He relishes in the slight shiver that runs through TK, the small intake of breath, happy to see that he feels this thrill too. His fingers card gently at the back of TK’s hair, curling around the strands as he continues to kiss him.

TK’s hands encircle his waist, pulling him closer and Carlos is pliant as ever, melding against the man’s frame. The kiss grows gradually, moving from tentative to assured, both guys shedding away any hesitancy and owning the moment.

It’s easy for Carlos to get swept away in kissing TK. His lips are proving themselves to be skilled at more than just offering beautiful smiles.

When TK breaks first, his eyes are still closed and Carlos can’t help but to stare, smiling softly at him when he finally reopens them.

“That’s what playing feels like,” TK says quietly. “An electric rush.”

Carlos’ face burns but TK doesn’t tease him for it. Instead he leans in and kisses Carlos’ cheeks, his forehead, the tip of his nose. This draws out a laugh from Carlos, a note so carefree and unguarded he’s almost surprised it’s ripped from him.

He smiles shyly and rests his forehead against TK’s, settling down and simply breathing him in. His hand finds its way once more to the nape of TK’s neck, skimming his fingertips lightly against his scalp. TK seems to appreciate the subtle touch, his eyes fluttering briefly. It’s almost hard for Carlos to wrap his mind around the fact that he’s capable of any real effect on TK and yet, the proof is laid out right before him.

All these weeks of getting to know him as more than just the cute guy in a shared class or the talented performer who frequents open mic nights. All these weeks of truly getting to know him and falling even more, they haven’t been one-sided.

“I see why you like performing so much now. I could get used to this feeling.”

TK laughs and places another kiss on his lips. It takes everything in Carlos not to get too carried away but it’s certainly tempting. TK, a musician through and through, knows what to do with his hands. Placement and timing, as he said before.

He’s able to draw out sounds from Carlos like any of his instruments, a sigh, a moan, a whimper. Carlos’ lips feel swollen by the time they break apart for good, his head in a fog.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks now,” TK says.

“Yeah?”

TK rolls his eyes jokingly. “You know, I don’t usually go around serenading guys at open mic nights, right?”

“So, that really was for me then?”

“You thought I was singing that about some other guy? Seriously?”

Carlos shrugs a shoulder, looking down until TK lifts his chin gently. He stares into his blue-green eyes and finds the confidence to keep going.

“It felt too good to be true that you may have been dedicating it to me. I thought—I mean, I’ve been hoping but was too scared to ask. In case you aren’t aware, you’re a very attractive and ridiculously talented guy, TK. You could have your pick of anyone.”

“Just like you could. Easily, Carlos. You’re such a catch. I’ve spent weeks hoping you liked me back. I was out of my mind nervous up there. It seemed like a great idea beforehand but actually being on stage and seeing you watching me? I almost chickened out but I knew my friends wouldn’t let me hear the end of it if I did. And, honestly? I wanted to get my feelings for you out there somehow. Music is always my fallback so, seemed like the best bet.”

Carlos shakes his head and draws in a deep breath, letting it out in a gust.

“It was beautiful, TK. Absolutely beautiful. No one has ever done anything like that for me.”

TK gives him a small smile, looking down and playing with Carlos’ hand. “Since we met, I’ve just wanted to matter to you. Is that weird to say?” he asks, pulling his gaze upward.

Carlos shakes his head. “No, not at all. I actually liked you before we even met,” Carlos admits. “You’ve always been someone to me, TK. Never doubt that because I get the feeling that you always will be.”

TK searches his eyes, relief flooding his features before he leans in and kisses him again. Carlos serves it right back, pulling TK against him as he sinks back against the man’s bed. It’s light, it’s playful with soft laughter and even softer kisses. It’s safe and comfortable to hand this vulnerable side over and trust it will be protected.

All in all, Carlos finds, it’s simply natural to be this way, to fall for this beautiful boy and his beautiful music that makes him feel like a work of art to TK in his own right.

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5-falsehoods-phonated · 3 years

Text

Overgrown Metal

Series Summary: Almost two decades ago, the fae rose up from beyond the veil with technology far surpassing the human race, quickly taking over after laying waste to nearly everything in their wake. Now eight paths cross to right the wrongs on both ends, working to uncover secrets that would have rather stayed hidden

Chapter 5: Bow With Hope

Summary: Enter Patton.

Trigger Warnings: death mention. If i missed any please let me know.

General taglist: @im-an-anxious-wreck (if you’d like to be tagged for all works or specific ones feel free to ask!)

Patton sighed gratefully as the great doors closed behind him, quickly straightening before anyone could see and hurrying down the main street to the tallest building before anyone could catch him and ask too many questions. His jaw clicked painfully as he tried to subtly stretch it out and hoping no one would notice just how fast he was blinking behind his rather large glasses. Too many potential questions, too many potential conversations, too much of everything and honestly why wasn’t he there yet he was in impeccable shape and walking fairly quickly and-

He nearly crashed into the front doors of the building not having noticed tripping his way up the steps. Blinking a few more times he shifted his pack to one shoulder somewhat painfully considering its weight and nudged the door open slowly and just enough for him to fit through, slipping in fast and shutting himself and the inside away from any potential prying eyes. Dropping the pack carefully he slumped against the frame and let his eyes adjust, the milkiness nearly cleared from his vision as he stretched his mouth open as wide as it would go. Being mute outside the walls didn’t give you many opportunities or use for that matter for opening it very often, defaulting to clenching his jaw an unhealthy amount and making it a relief when he finally returned to his city and no longer had to worry about keeping up any pretenses.

Looking around revealed an unsurprisingly empty lobby, the converted hotel expanded almost impossibly wide and making the light fixtures work twice as hard to banish the shadows from the furthest reaches of the room. Several staircases led up and away to various sections of the building, though only a couple led down into the depths where he and others of his current status were rarely ever permitted to tread. Waving away the sadness that threatened to swell at the thought he simply sighed again and hoisted the pack back over his shoulder, oddities from a nearby Undercurrent ratting softly within it. He wondered briefly what the residents of the underground towns actually called themselves- certainly something better than the blatant derogatory name Societies had given them. The nicer ones were nearly identical to Patton’s own city: well structured layers of markets and power plants and homes all buried safely beneath the ground to adapt to their rapidly changing environment.

Of course he wouldn’t care to live in one...he didn’t even really care to be living in a Society despite the “safety” it promised him especially being as high up as he was. Given the choice he’d be a wanderer as so many were now, refusing to settle down where either roots or branches would eventually chase you out or kill you as you tried to hold them back. Vast open plains were really only a temporary solution as wildlife continued to grow and shift and spread without mercy or care for what it was destroying to create whatever ideals were behind it. Shaking his head once again he made his way to the nearest staircase. There’d be time for thinking later...maybe. For now he needed to deliver what he managed to find and hopefully it would be enough to pay him with a day pass to the cemetery; his superiors didn’t want the past to hold anyone back which was fine with Patton- it just meant he worked incredibly hard to be able to earn his time with who he had lost.

Finally getting to the door he needed he took the time to give his jaw one final stretch, mouthing out a couple words to practice their shapes before he had to talk again. His vision had finally cleared fully leaving his dark brown curls the only thing obstructing his vision. Carefully they were pushed up and away, tucked neatly behind his ears before he smoothed the front of his still dirty tunic. Wincing he tried in vain to brush as much of it off as he could only to give up after barely half a minute as the dirt made it clear it was there to stay. Stern voices chiding him for his lack of professionalism were waved away quickly. His job was tough and dirty and there was really nothing he could do to help with that unless they decided to transfer him to a different purpose. These assurances fell somewhat limply as he sucked in a breath. He would never trade his purpose for anything, dangerous as it could be and even with the added drawbacks. He was free to roam out there- within a time frame but still. He could see how the world was progressing and how life was coping, he could see grass and “trees” rather than the industrial colors of his Society, and most of all he could look for-

Gripping the straps he straightened one final time and placed his hand on the door knob. There would be time for thinking later; right now he had a job to finish. Swinging open the door before he could change his mind he stepped in, head down and shoulders back before shutting the door behind him. Nothing happened for a full minute, the only sound in the room Patton’s own quickly beating heart and the gentle tinkling in the bag as the trinkets shifted with his fidgeting, Five minutes had passed before he slowly lifted only his eyes to scan the room, realizing with a start that he was completely alone.

Cheeks burning with slight embarrassment he walked forward towards the thin envelope with his name on it on the wide oak desk. Placing the pack beside him he opened to reveal a small wad of twenty dollar bills and a note most likely written by the direct herself.

Patton,

If your past findings have been anything to go by this should be enough to pay you for what you’ve brought back this time, though action will be taken if my assumption is incorrect. The day pass included was taken from your pay, I took the liberty of sparing you a trip.

Faris

Blinking in surprise he quickly shuffled his pay to find that there was, in fact, a day pass included. His stomach squeezed uncomfortably at the thought of his routine being known so well but the organization he worked for was a rather tight knit group so in the end he supposed it made sense. He nudged the bag closer to the side of the desk and turned to leave, only briefly wondering why the director hadn’t been there this time before quickening his pace back towards the way he came. If he hurried he’d be able to use it now; he’d scarcely thought of much else his entire trip outside the walls.

Walking as quickly as he dared through the silent lobby he found the long familiar flight of stairs and hurried down them, barely stopping ;long enough to shove the pass through the slot before nearly crashing into the second door he hadn’t been paying attention to today.. Schooling his annoyed expression as the pass was logged he reached immediately for the door as he heard the beep, mood sobering immediately as the cold musty air hit his face. The cemetery was a quiet place, as they so often were, and hung heavy with the warm smell of earth contrasted just shy of unpleasantly with the crisp air of the underground cavern. Here the dead lay still in whatever a family could scrounge to wrap them with, most only in their best clothes laid as carefully and respectfully as possible in the holes dug by those who cared for them. Families weren’t allowed to see the dead laid to rest, too painful a thing to watch with the limited amount of technology they had, the director had said. Patton would have gave everything- he glanced up at where his feet had automatically taken him. His son’s grave.

His tight smile turned genuine as he kneeled in front of the stone, tears already pricking his eyes as he stared at the name written there. He brought his arm up slowly, palm resting on the corner of the smooth stone he had picked out himself: smooth and just big enough and slate gray with obsidian cracks spidering at the side. He always liked smiling in the cemetery, hoping that if God forbid his sin’s soul lingered he would see his father smiling and be comforted. He knew if he was ever a spirit he wouldn’t want to see his family mourn him, pain cracking their usually cheerful features. No. He’d rather them smile with the memories of their time spent together, and especially for his young child, he smiled as wide and as long as he could, simply absorbing the silence and trying his best to turn the cool indifference of the stone into warm comfort with the simple touch of his palm.

“I always wondered who it was you put all your hard earned savings towards. Though I’m deeply curious patton: if you’re mourning him down here, then why look for him up there?” Patton froze at the cold words tossed at him so carelessly, matching the rest of the room and sapping what little warmth he himself had left to offer. Standing carefully he schooled his face into what he hoped was an open expression and turned, meeting the deep brown eyes of Director Faris.

She really shouldn’t be this intimidating he thought to himself as he bowed his head. The director was his height and only slightly chubbier, dark suit with a crisp lab coat laying carefully over it filling the picture of professionalism. Really the only thing scary about her was the necklace she wore with their society emblem carved into a small pendant, the snarling muzzle of a dog glinting in the low light. Her stern gaze never wavered from him, much as he wished it would, and the air between them had grown incredibly uncomfortable by the time she cleared her throat to indicate he could answer.

“Blind hope I suppose.” He offered weakly. “Thank you f-”

She waited patiently for him to clear his suddenly very dry throat, trying desperately to clear the gravel of disuse from his voice before he tried to speak again. “Thank you for including a pass with my pay, the saved trip is greatly appreciated.”

“Blind hope that he survived and somehow escaped your notice for ten years?”

“A father knows.”

“So does a leader.” Faris stepped forward and laid a hand on his shoulder. “You always have so much trouble simply letting go Patton. Let the past be.”

Patton bit back the retort of his purpose that was given to him by the director herself was finding relics of the past along with whatever could be made from present materials to bring back to the city. His purpose relied on the past and people finding new ways to innovate it so it fit into the future. That to simply let the past go- well, wasn’t so simple. He cast a longing gaze to the smooth stone sitting obliviously in the dirt, Faris’ eyes following sharply.

“Whose body do you think is down there if not your son’s? How little respect do you have for us if you think we would deceive you on such a personal level?” Patton felt a wave of guilt wash over him at those words, looking down shamefully. “Have faith, Patton. This world has no more room for questions.”

As the director's hand fell from his shoulder at last she gestured as she turned away, taking confident strides to the stairs. “Follow me when you’re ready; I have other things to discuss with you.”

Pressing his lips together, Patton took one last look at the grave marker. Doubt curled not for the first time in the back of his mind, an ever growing sapling digging its roots ever deeping in the bed of questions he had surrounding the Society in which he lived and the people put in charge of it. As one of the head researchers it didn’t sit right with him that Faris allowed so little to be questioned, instead offering up faith as the sole reason to follow whatever whim the higher ups decided to pursue. He worked only a small branch of the Society, so much was left behind closed doors he very rarely if ever had access to. There was always, always room for questions.

“I will never stop looking for you.” He whispered quietly enough so he was sure faris wouldn’t hear before turning and hurrying towards the steps. “I promise you, Virgil.”

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

CSI: Rogers and Barnes- The Serious Cereal Serial Killer Ch 13: Cap’N Crunch

Co-Written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Episode Summary: The investigation begins to slot together...with some suprising results.

Episode Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (NSFW) NO UNDER 18s!!!!

Episode Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Song for Episode: The Imitation Game by Alexandre Desplat

A/N: This is a LONG chapter guys, but the case is cracked... ooooohhhhhhh!

As always we live for re-blogs and comments

CSI Rogers and Barnes Master List // Main Masterlist I'd look at one of my stonecutters hammering away at the rock, perhaps a hundred times without as much as a crack showing in it. Yet, at the hundred and first blow it would split in two, and I knew it was not that blow that did it, but all that had gone before. - Jacob Riis

By the time they had arrived at Pierce’s, the press were already circling like vultures. Steve called Fury on the way to fill him in on what they had found in Stan’s notes and to his surprise the Commander wasn’t as shocked as Steve had expected. Mind you, he had stated to Steve that he suspected a cover up had happened so maybe this was simply cementing his initial suspicions. The Captain drove carefully through the crowd which was being parted by a number of Thor’s officers, before the large blonde himself gave them both a nod, lifting the tape to allow him to steer his car into the inner boundary. They parked up, climbed out and headed up the drive way which led to the double garage at the side of the large house.

Tony, Sam and Bruce were already in the garage along with Bucky and Commander Fury.

“Sir.” Steve nodded to the man, watching in the corner of his eye as Katie approached the car, stopping by the driver’s side to get a look.

“I take it that’s what killed him.” She said, nodding to the body. Steve walked up behind her, stooped down and his eyes flickered to the single bullet hole straight between Pierce’s eyes.

“Yup.” Tony said. “No other marks or bruises. The blood splatter indicates that he was shot where he is now, so we’re not looking for a second crime scene, same as the others in that respect.” “Yeah, and here’s your cereal…” Bruce said, holding up a clear bag “I’m no expert but these look like Apple Puffs to me.” “Well that fits.” Bucky said “AP, Alexander Pierce.”

“Time of death?” Steve asked and Tony looked at him.

“Judging from the body you’re probably looking at between 5 and 6 hours ago.” “We’ll know more when we get him on the slab.” Sam said, and Steve nodded.

“5 or 6 hours ago means he was killed in daylight.” Fury said, and Steve took a deep breath.

“I’ll get Thor to have his team conduct a door-to-door.” he said, and Fury nodded as the Captain turned to Bucky “I take it there were no signs of breaking and entering?”

“No.” Bucky said. “Natasha and Clint are in the house supervising the detailed forensics sweep but so far nothing. No forced door, picked locks, smashed windows.”

“Which confirms, as with all the others that Pierce knew his attacker.” Steve nodded.

“This is all pointing one way.” Katie said, “Rumlow. He fits the Profile to a tee…”

“But if what you found in those files is right, Pierce has been shielding Rumlow, hell, hey all have one way or another. If it’s him, why is he targeting them? Fury asked

“And why is he suddenly breaking with his MO?” Steve asked, “None of our other bodies have been killed at home or in broad daylight.”

“Maybe he’s just getting sloppy.” Bucky shrugged

“No.” Katie shook her head “That was an execution. Nothing about this is sloppy. If you want my opinion, he’s reached the end, everyone on that list of people involved in the conspiracy is now dead. This was done on purpose so we would find him like this, he’s taunting us…look what I did before you figured it out…”

“But that doesn’t answer my question.” Fury said “Why would Rumlow target the people who protected him?”

"Maybe he's just a fuckin’ psycho." Bucky shrugged “I mean, hey, Sam…” Sam looked up at his shout “You said the last body, Schmidt, had been beaten in a blind rage right, symptomatic with someone losing their temper?”

“Yeah…” Sam nodded before he bent back over into the car, continuing his examinations and Bucky looked at her

“Point proven, he’s a loop.” “No. He’s not. He's too meticulous.” Katie shook her head and looked at Bucky “Each killing escalated in violence right? I think he was doing that to frighten Pierce. Leading him to think he was going to meet the most violent end of all.” she bit her lip. “What is it?” Steve asked.

“Rumlow can't have known for long...that Pierce was his father I mean.”

“His what?” Bucky spluttered as he looked at Katie then to Steve as Sam let out a huff of surprise too.

“Oh, yeah, there’s a lot we need to fill you in on…” Steve looked at the sergeant apologetically. “But not here…” Bucky nodded and Katie continued.

“If he had known, he would have been using him long before the rape case to progress his career because that's what he was like, a narcissist. Everything was about him. When Sarah Klein turned him down, he took her anyway...and then tried to do the same with me.”

“So he finds out about his parentage...he tells Pierce to make the rape case go away or he blows the fact that he got an underage girl pregnant.” Steve looked at her and she looked at him.

“That’s my guess, yeah.”

“So Pierce plays ball otherwise his career and reputation are dead in the water.” Fury mused “Which leaves Rumlow free to continue at the 99…” “And then he assaulted me.” Katie swallowed “Which is where my dad comes into it. The assault charge against me is dropped as well, and we can assume Pierce was to thank for that too, only this time they hadn’t factored in Dad’s amazing ability to kick up a shit storm…so Pierce has no alternative but to force Rumlow to resign.” she paused again and Steve spotted the look on her face, the look she wore when things were finally slotting into place.

“That’s what this is about…” she continued and looked up at Steve, then to Fury then to Bucky “In Rumlow’s eyes they all failed him…” she looked back at Steve “Rumlow had no family, no wife, nothing but the job so take that away from him and he becomes a no-one, which is the worst thing in the world that can happen to a narcissist.”

“But why wait 5 years?” Bucky looked at her.

“He didn’t.” she said, shaking her head “He killed the person he blamed at the time- My dad. Then 18 months or so later he gets busted for the robbery and handed 3 years. Only Pierce doesn’t bail him out this time so he spends his sentence getting angrier and angrier, because everyone else is to blame but himself. He gets out, and starts hunting the rest of them down. One by one. Anyone and everyone that he feels is at fault.”

There was a moment’s pause.

“Well…” Fury looked at Katie, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards lightly “Looks like you just cracked it Stark…”

And damned it, Steve couldn’t help the proud smile that spread across his face. His girl was clever, and he fucking loved her brain as well as her beauty.

“No wonder you wanted to bring her back from DC. Well, apart from the obvious more selfish reasons…” Bucky muttered to Steve, who looked at him, raising his eyebrow.

“I told you Buck…” he said, watching Katie who was talking to Fury now “She’s the best in the business.”

“…we still need to find him.” her voice said as Steve tuned back into what she was now discussing with the Commander. “And I need to prove it too. Back it all up with facts so it isn’t merely supposition…and I still want to know for sure what the fuck the cereal is all about.”

“So do I.” Fury said, as he looked at his watch “Ok, I’m gonna head back to Plaza, speak to Rhodes and Wuntcsh. We need to handle this press release carefully.” “I think we need to put Rumlow’s face out there.” Katie said “Let’s name him, have everyone in the country looking for him.”

Fury nodded “I agree, time we went public. Keep me up to speed.”

“Sir.” Steve nodded and watched the man make his way down towards his car. He turned back to his troops just as Natasha and Clint emerged from the house “Anything?”

They both shook their heads “Nothing out of the ordinary.” “Alright, in that case can you organise and supervise the house to house, Nat, get Thor onto it. Someone has to have seen something. Meanwhile, we’ll head back to the station.” he looked at Katie, Clint then Bucky “We’ll start digging into this theory, see if we can make it tie up. We could use your hawk eyes on this one Clint.”

“Happy to oblige Cap.” he saluted, before he turned to Nat “You keep my car, I’ll grab a lift off Super Serge…” he said, patting Bucky’s shoulder.

“Lucky me.” Bucky rolled his eyes, playfully.

***** They had been back at the station for roughly 2 hours, digging through everything they could think of whilst sprawled in the Incident Room. Clint had ordered pizza in for them, and as such there were discarded boxes along with cans of soda littered around the place, adding to the general chaos of the room.

Katie had written the key points of her theory on the whiteboard, and they were busy tacking documents to the board which seemed to back the different points up. The idea being, as Katie said, they could make connections, trace one link to another easier if the visuals were right there in front of them

It struck Steve just how like Howard Katie was. She worked in a very similar way, his mantra always being that if you eliminated the impossible, no matter what remains, however improbable, it had to be the truth. His daughter seemed to do the same. She was eliminating things that didn’t matter, that couldn’t possibly be true, things that were unimportant as she was following this one thread through the entire case. She’d said right from the off Rumlow was involved, even though they’d had no hard evidence to back that up. Well, now they did, and they were uncovering more and more as they worked.

Steve looked up as he saw Katie reaching for her phone. “Yeah, you get something?” he watched as she paused, her hand running through her hair before she grinned “Tony’ you're a fucking genius..."

She put the phone down and she stood up, moving to the board and pulling the DNA results off from where they'd been tacked up

"These are duplications..." she says "Tony's been digging and talking to a few of his friends in the private sector...apparently these were run originally by a Dr Armin Zola, who was struck off not long after for malpractice. The originals were mailed out to a Mr Brock Rumlow a few weeks before the rape took place...and guess what? Zola turned up dead a week or so later...choked on a steak."

"How the fuck did Tony find that out?" Bucky looked at her.

"Ok, when I say talking to a few friends...I actually mean hacking, but that's not important. I was right, Rumlow didn’t know until that point and ever since he's been using it. Pierce keeps him out of jail but when he's done for robbery he can't…” she tapped at a photo on the board, “because the CCTV footage, everything...it's too much. It would attract attention.”

Steve looked at her, then Bucky before Clint spoke up.

“Yeah, and I've been digging into Rumlow's financials. The guy was destitute. After leaving the police he struggled to find work- was doing the odd bit of security but nothing big, and he couldn't take his pension yet. This was the prosecutions main angle during the robbery case- that he needed the money.”

“The cereal…” Katie mumbled. “Fuck, when I said about the caviar and silver spoons normally being used about making a point, people being rich.”

“He is making the same point, but the other way around.” Steve looked at her and she nodded.

“No posh or fancy silver spoons for me, just mundane cereal. He’s bitter. Bitter he never had the fucking lifestyle that being Pierces kid would have brought him.”

“So he kills Zola…” Bucky looked up “And makes it look like an accident?” Katie bit her lip and something else flashed in her eyes and her mouth dropped open.

“What is it?” Steve looked at her.

“I don’t think he did…”

“The MO…” Bucky started, but she shook her head.

“It’s different. None of the others actually died from choking. They were hit with a hammer, or in Pierce’s case shot.”

“So someone else did Zola…” Bucky looked at her and Steve let out a sigh, the dots connecting in his own mind.

“Pierce.” he said looking at Katie. “Rumlow approaches him with the evidence and he kills Zola to keep his dirty little secret quiet...”

“And then when my dad uncovers all this…he killed him, and mom too.” She shook her head, looking down before she reached for her chair sinking into it “It was Pierce…he killed my parents…I can’t believe it.”

The room fell silent as the 3 men all exchanged a look and Steve turned back to his girl, whose eyes had filled with tears. And at that point, he decided enough was enough.

"Alright, I'm calling it." he said "It's midnight, it's been a long day.” he took a deep breath “Rumlow must have been staying somewhere since he got out of jail. Tomorrow we need to find out where” he turned then to Clint, “We’ll reconvene here at 8 am sharp. Barton, first thing I want you and Nat to follow any lead, no matter how small we got from the house to house. And before you go, get onto Thor...I want all eyes out for Rumlow on the night shift. If they see him, arrest on sight.”

****

Steve, Katie and Bucky all climbed out of Steve’s car in the underground parking lot attached to the apartment block. Steve headed to the trunk and pulled out Katie’s bag, which Bucky noticed was larger than normal meaning she was intending on staying for longer than the night, but he refrained from making any snarky comment. She’d hardly spoken a word all the way home and he couldn’t blame her. Instead he simply observed as Steve reached for her hand which she took and the two of them walked slightly ahead of him to the door that led to the elevators.

They emerged onto the landing and Steve unlocked the door, swinging it open to let Katie in first. Once she was in she took off her jacket, hung it on the coat stand by the door and turned to them both.

“I don’t want to be rude but I’m exhausted. I’m gonna take a shower and get in bed.” Bucky gave her a smile “Don’t blame you Doll Face.”

She managed a roll of her eyes with a smile at the nickname and she moved to take her bag from Steve but he shook his head.

“It’s ok, I’ve got it.” he said and she smiled at him before she turned back to Bucky.

“Night Buck.” “Yeah, see you in the morning.” he said.

Steve followed her down to his room where he deposited her bag on the chair in the corner and she turned to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest. The rain was beating against the bedroom window and he glanced outside, his chin resting on the top of her head as he gave a sigh. Looked like this shit weather was in for the night, which was fairly apt really all things considered. Eventually she stepped back and looked up at him and he leaned down pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

“Go get sorted.” he said, “I won’t be far behind you. Do you want a drink or anything?” “No, I’m good thanks Stevie.”

He smiled again and then left her to her own devices. When he walked back into the kitchen Bucky was sat at the breakfast bar and slid him an open beer as he dropped onto the stool besides him.

“She ok?” Bucky asked.

“Not really.” Steve sighed

“And what about you?” Bucky looked at him. “You were close to Howard. That’s bound to have been a head fuck.” “You’re not wrong.” Steve sighed “We gotta catch this bastard Bucky. Pierce will never face justice for what he did but Rumlow can.” “And he will.” Bucky said, taking a mouthful of his beer “We’ll find him.”

The two friends sat talking until their beer was finished and at that both decided to call it a night. Steve’s room was dark when he entered, the only light coming from outside street lighting which flooded through the crack in the curtains. He went to pull them shut tightly but Katie stopped him.

“Don’t, I like the light.” He chuckled as he turned to face her “Now we both know you’re not afraid of the dark, Star.” “I know…” she said as he pulled off his Henley, discarding it over her pile of clothes on the chair “I just like it, that’s all.” Once he was down to his boxers he crawled over her, dropping a kiss to her lips “I’ll be 5. Just gonna shower.” “Ok.” she yawned, settling herself down further under the covers.

Steve took the hottest shower he could stand, willing the warmth to wash away the events of the day. His shoulders ached from them being so damned tense and he rolled them slightly, cracking his neck from side to side as the water beat down on him. Once he was done he headed back to his room, towelled off, pulled a clean pair of boxers on and settled down besides Katie. He pulled her to him, her back pressed to his chest as he dropped a soft kiss to her bare shoulder just to the side of the strap of her cami top. They lay silent for a while, the only sound was the rain falling outside, but he could tell she wasn’t asleep from her breathing.

“Remember that trip we took to Camp Lehigh.” Katie broke the silence and Steve took a deep breath.

“How could I forget?” he smiled. And he meant it, that weekend was ingrained in his brain forever. He’d split up with Peggy a few weeks before hand and Katie had split up with Grant a couple of months before that as well. The pair of them had been miserable, basically slumping around her apartment or his, wallowing in their joint grief and pity before Katie had decided they needed to go and do something, something fun. Camp Lehigh had been somewhere that her parents had taken her and Tony every year as kids, an activities camp of sorts, with little cabins and all kinds of sports and activities to do, so on a whim she’d booked them in for the weekend and they’d headed off. It had been great. They’d gone hiking, done the assault courses, paintballing, kayaking, drunk round the campfire with the other people there. In fact, that was where her star necklace had come from, the gift shop. It was a cheap, sterling silver pendant but he’d wanted to say thank you as the weekend had been a balm to his soul. Upon leaving they’d vowed that was it, their lives started over and they moved forward. Which was what they had done, and every spare bit of time they had they’d filled with something fun.

“You made me take the top bunk.” She said, “You were afraid if you took it you’d come falling through and land on me in the middle of the night.”

“Well on the second night we both ended up in the bottom one anyway.” he said, his arm pulling her closer “It was raining, like it is now, and then it thundered and you shit yourself.” “I did not…” she said indignantly, causing him to snort. “Ok, maybe a little…”

They fell silent again, and she shuffled in his arms, turning to face him. “You know, that night when we just lay there and we were talking for hours until you fell asleep…I could feel your heart beating in your chest and I remember asking myself how Peggy could have ever let you go.” Steve looked down at her, brushing her hair back slightly off her face as she continued. “In fact, I think that’s the moment I realised I loved you. I mean, I’d had those feelings for you for a long time but that was the time I finally understood why whenever I was with you I got that safe, happy feeling.” Steve pressed a kiss to her lips, his forehead resting against hers. “We wasted a lot of time Doll.”

“I know.” she sighed. “So stupid when you look back on it isn’t it?” “Well, there’s no point thinking about it now.” he said softly, his hand gently sliding up and down her back “You’re stuck with me forever.” “Promise?”

“Cross my heart Star.” he said, his lips catching hers again in a soft kiss before he grinned. “Even if you are afraid of thunder.” “Piss off…” She chuckled, shoving him gently.

“You know, I always found it odd…how you could be so scared of thunder but quite like a Storm…” he quipped and she let out a groan.

“Again, Steve?”

“Sorry, sorry…” he chuckled, “I know, it’s just…well it was only a week ago tonight that I thought I’d lost you again when you left with him.” “Keep on mentioning him and I just might do it again.” “Uh-uh…” he said, grinning as he rolled her onto her back. “Like I said, you’re stuck with me forever. You’re never leaving.” “Never?” “No.” “What you gonna do? Handcuff me to the bed?” Steve let out a soft groan as she tilted her hips upwards, pushing into his groin “Don’t tempt me Star…” She bit her lip as she looked up at him. “You wanna go all bad cop Captain?”

“Yeah, well, you bring out the absolute worst in me…”

“You love it.” she teased.

“No, I love you. The rest of the shit just comes along.” he mumbled, his lips catching hers again. This kiss this time fevered as her tongue slid into his mouth, tangling with his own. She gave a soft moan which almost died in her throat as she pulled back and looked up at him, her hands tangling in his hair. It took a while for the fog to clear from his lust addled brain, but eventually Steve pulled back, searching her eyes in the dim light of the room.

“Sweetheart, you need sleep…” he said, clearing his throat as his nose brushed up against hers. “After everything that’s happened today, I-“

“I need to forget…” she whispered, cutting him off, her hand cupping his face. “Please, make me forget Stevie…” She whispered into his mouth.

And that was it. Suddenly he was pulling her top over her head, his mouth nipping and sucking at her chest as she writhed and keened underneath him. His hand worked into the waistband of the shorts she was wearing and she gasped as his fingers gently started to tease her, before he upped the pace slightly, and with a flick of his wrist pushed two inside her, curling against that soft spot that he knew would leave her boneless and pliant underneath him.

“I love you…I love you so fucking much…”He said, making her groan again as he continued to work her with his hand. Eventually she couldn’t take it anymore and she wriggled underneath him.

“You want something?” he teased and she raised her head, glowering at him.

“Steve if you don’t fuck me right now I swear to God…” “You’ll do what?” he raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll call Storm…”

“Doll, don’t threaten me…” his voice grew low. She was such a mouthy little shit at times and she knew what buttons to press and when to press them, fucking brat.

“Or what?” she propped herself up on her elbows. Oh he knew exactly what. In a flash he had reached out, and grabbed at her hips, flipping her over so that her front was pressed into the bed covers. She let out a little shriek, followed by a dirty giggle which made his already evident arousal even harder as he crawled over her, nipping at her neck. In seconds he had her moaning again, and grinning to himself he pulled back slightly and she let out a cry of frustration.

“Steve…” she said, her voice pleading. He completely ignored her as he hovered over her, his mouth tracing a line down her spine as she continued to whimper. His lips formed a smirk against her skin and as he reached the dip of her lower back he wriggled out of his boxers and grasped her hips, pulling her ass off the bed. He easily discarded her shorts before he positioned himself behind her, the tip of his aching, rock hard cock simply teasing at her entrance.

“This what you want?” he practically purred and she groaned.

“Yes, Jesus Christ…” In one swift move he was buried to the hilt and she let out a load moan, her face muffled slightly by the pillow.

“Ah, ah Star” he said, as his hand reached out and gripped her shoulder, he pulled her back so she was propped up on her elbows “I wanna hear you…”

Katie bit her lip as he started moving, hard, fast, deep. He could tell that every thrust was rocking her very core and she was putty in his hands within minutes. As his hips snapped back and forth, loud grunts and groans filled the room, mingling with the sound of skin slapping on skin as he continued his ferocious pace, his hand still on her shoulder pulling her back onto him with every pound forward he made. Steve bent over her to nip at Katie’s neck, a little harder than usual, and he spoke into her ear with a growl. "You feel so good. So fucking good.”

"So do you…" she moaned to him as he kept up his relentless pace, and she felt the release creeping up through her belly. “Shit…Captain…” Captain…fuck he loved that! He gave another nip to her neck before he pulled back, looking down at the place they were joined, were he was pumping in and out of her as he continued his salacious assault on her spot. He felt her legs go rigid and she tightened around him, her head tipping back.

“Come for me doll…” he groaned and a loud cry ripped from her throat as her hands fisted around the sheets and her entire body shook. Unable to control herself she collapsed and in a flash Steve curled his arm around her waist, he’d never let her fall. A few short thrusts and he was done, the entire world around him tilted on its axis as he spilled himself inside of her with a low growl, before he collapsed forward, letting her down as gently as he could, finally face planting onto the bed, sweating and spent besides her. Neither of them moved for a moment, the only sounds that could now be heard was deep breathing from both of them as they came down from their high, fighting for composure. Eventually Steve felt Katie move and he turned his head lazily to the right to see she was led on her stomach, her head turned towards him, and at the sight of her looking utterly wrecked thanks to him, he couldn’t help the smug grin spreading across his face.

“I kinda like Bad Cop.” She mumbled and he laughed, reaching out to brush her hair behind her ear before he pulled her face towards his for a soft, gentle kiss.

********

Steve's eyelids were heavy the following morning and he struggled to open his eyes before rubbing them and giving a yawn. His bladder was full but his mind wandered to the events the previous day, exhausting as they had been, which had led to a no less exhausting, albeit for better reasons, night. He smiled as he turned around to reach for Katie only to find the left side of his bed empty. He ran a hand over the vacated space and sighed at the cold touch.

After the customary visit to the bathroom and putting on a t-shirt, Steve went out of his bedroom and headed for the kitchen, following the clattering sounds of breakfast getting ready as if he was following the Pied Piper. When he reached the kitchen door the smell of something just baked mixed with the delicious scent of freshly brewed coffee hit his nostrils.

But something even more delicious caught his sight. Just as he had predicted Katie was already up, making breakfast. She was wearing one of his Henley shirts over her lacy panties and nothing more. He was sure. He had spotted Katie's bra discarded over the back of the chair with the rest of her clothes from the previous night before heading out. Steve felt something stir inside his boxer briefs at the sight of his shirt covering the curve of his girl's ass and how it hung over the upper part of her thighs. Fortunately, he had decided as a last minute decision to put on a pair of pyjama pants.

He couldn't deny the sight of Katie, in his clothes, making breakfast in his kitchen like she just belonged, made his chest burst with happiness. To the point that he let out a contented sigh from where he was leaning on the kitchen's door frame.

It was then that Bucky, who was sitting at the breakfast bar eating his plums, noticed his presence and turned around. He saw his friend, and observed the way he was staring at Katie and mouthed Pervert at him. Steve just smiled and said "Morning." At that Katie turned to greet him back and Steve instantly saw the stains on her cheeks. She had been crying. He gave her a concerned look before turning to look at Bucky who didn't need any words to understand what he was expected to do.

"Erm, I'm gonna get ready." he said as he just sat up before nodding at Steve as he left the kitchen giving them some space.

Steve then crossed the floor of the room towards her and Katie simply leaned into him, wrapping her arms round his wide back. Her face pressed into his T-shirt, inhaling his scent. He didn't say anything. He just rubbed his girl's back as he thought he could get used to her being there in his arms every morning, before stepping back and wiping her face with his finger pads.

"Sweetheart, how much sleep did you get?" he asked her softly.

"Few hours." she shrugged. "I just couldn't stop thinking about mum and dad... and how Tony needs to know we're pretty sure Pierce did it and..."

Steve sensed her beginning to spiral and decided to take the matter in his hands.

"Shhhhh...Star, just breathe... let me help you with this ok? We'll go to the station, check on the status of the search for Rumlow and then we'll go speak to Tony." he cooed, hugging her against his chest again.

Katie nodded and Steve, satisfied with how things were turning out, tried again with another distraction.

"What were you cooking?" he asked nodding towards the stove.

"I did cinnamon buns, your Ma's recipe...and was just whipping up some eggs and bacon." she answered as she resumed her position in front of the bowls and pans that were scattered over the kitchen counter.

Steve realised then she had to have been up for hours if she had managed cinnamon buns as whenever she made those, she usually got them ready the night before to bake in the morning. He shook his head in a disapproving gesture before approaching her again, hugging her from behind this time, and kissing her head.

"Ok Doll, let's get those ready and we can eat." he suggested.

"I'm not that hungry..." Katie began to explain.

"That wasn't a request. You're already sleep deprived. I don't want you fainting because you haven't eaten." Steve stated, nearly ordered, going into concerned Captain mode.

She saw Katie smile, instead of getting all pissy at his commanding tone of voice, and bite her lip.

"What?" he asked.

"You'll make a great husband one day..." she said with a simile that reached her eyes.

And just like that Steve was brought back to his ma's banter about the ring and the proposal for the second time in less than 24 hours. And not only that. Fucking hell! It hadn't even been a week since they had got back together. What day was today anyway? Friday? Just the previous Friday he was moping around and getting dragged to the Compound in a stormy, you could say, turn of events. But then again, as everyone liked to point out lately, they went back to 10 years before any of this. Everything they've done...it really was like they had dated but without the physical side. How the fuck did he not see what was right in front of his damned eyes for all that time? Coz you're a stupid, punk. His little inner voice answered for him, a voice which was annoyingly similar to Bucky's. But back to the husband thing....

"Well, as long as it's your husband Doll..." Steve said as he felt his cheeks flush.

Katie stopped what she was doing to look at him and simply smiled again, that damned smile that got him weak, before giving him a gentle kiss.

He then grabbed a tea towel from the breakfast bar and threw it over his shoulder to start helping Katie. He was loving the domesticity. How she directed him around as if they were a pair of newly- weds getting breakfast ready on a lazy Sunday morning. Again those marriage thoughts but he didn't mind as he helped her with the food before shoving more coffee on. And then their domestic bliss was broken by a piercing sound.

"Can I come back in now? I'm starving!" Bucky shouted from somewhere in the living room.

"Jerk." Steve yelled back.

"Smells good, doll face" Bucky said when he appeared in the kitchen a few seconds later.

"That fucking name!" Katie said, throwing a spoon at him.

"You know? I still remember the first time I called you that and you got mad." Bucky grinned catching said spoon expertly in his right hand.

"I hated you back then." Katie retorted as she whipped the eggs.

"You didn't doll face. You loved me. And HIM." Bucky said gesturing to Steve. "Even though you pretended otherwise." he shrugged before biting another plum.

Steve then saw Katie stop what she was doing and slowly turn to look at his friend with narrowed eyes. There she is, he thought, his face cracking into a grin at the dirty look she was shooting his best friend.

"Piss off Barnes."

Bucky laughed before looking at Steve. "Steve tell her how you were mad at me coz you thought I was hitting on her."

"No...that's...I never said that..." Steve tried to protest as he looked from Bucky to Katie.

"Oh you absolutely did." Bucky said nodding exaggeratedly.

"Seriously Steve...you can't lie for shit." Katie said after watching him for a couple of seconds, a smile playing on her face.

"Remember when they all gave you the slip and I bought you lunch?" Bucky asked Katie. “Well apparently I did that because I wanted to bone you…” At that Katie let out a huge laugh and Steve sighed, shaking his head.

"Ok, maybe I was a little paranoid..."

"Yes, paranoically in love...." Bucky quipped.

"Do you wanna eat this breakfast or wear it, jerk?" Steve said with feigned indignation. Well, maybe not so feigned. Although it was true, he didn't like being exposed like that. Not that Katie didn't know how he had felt about her, though.

Katie chuckled and shook her head as she started to plate up breakfast.

Bucky then shot Steve a wink, to which the captain mouthed Thank you. He really appreciated his friend's efforts to keep her distracted from her thoughts again. Even though Bucky could be like an annoying little brother at times, Steve felt the dynamic the three of them had set was remarkably good. True Katie and Bucky had hit it off from the beginning, despite their constant bickering, but the addition of Bucky to the equation that was his and Katie's budding relationship was flawless. Mind you, he could be a teasing jerk sometimes, and there was no way he didn't hear them the previous night the way they were going at it but he hadn't passed any comment. Not yet, at least.

They headed for the station without further ado that morning. There was so much to do, so many phone calls to make, so many reports and evidence to go through once more, now the case had taken a much needed, though unexpected, turn. They had no time to waste and they were also eager to know if the search on Rumlow had thrown any light.

So Steve pulled the car into the station's parking lot after a quick stop to grab their usual morning coffee treat, seeing as it was his turn to buy and Bucky wasn't willing to let it go. No matter how busy they were, no matter what the circumstances were. Steve wondered what was with Bucky and just eating plums for breakfast first thing in the morning and not having his dose of caffeine until much later through the day. Unless he was hungover that is, which was happening a lot quite recently.

When the three of them entered the station's main office they were met with a face they weren't expecting. Sure, they didn't expect to find Wanda but her replacement had arrived fast and might have caused a stir in the organization of another precinct.

"Gina! Oh my god..." Katie squealed, approaching the woman with her arms open.

"What are you doing here? Not that I don't want you here but are you Wanda's replacement?" Steve asked, trying to understand.

"Kinda... I'm gonna be doing 2 days here, 3 at the 99 until Fury finds someone." Gina explained as she stepped back from Katie’s embrace.

"Fury didn't tell me he was calling you in." Steve frowned.

"Well, there's a lot of things he doesn't tell people." Gina shrugged, as if she hung out with Fury on a daily basis.

Steve went quiet and looked at Katie, who was unsuccessfully trying not to laugh. His own mouth was quirking as well when he turned around to look at Bucky who had an expression of utter whatthefuckness, if that was even a word, all over his face. But Gina didn't seem to be bothered in the slightest, as she continued sharpening the pencils Wanda had left in the pencil pot at the reception desk before asking. "What did you do to Maximoff."

"I didn't do anything to her, she quit." Steve informed, yet a bit offended.

"Ah, maybe that's why she resigned... Anyway Captain, your post is on your desk and I sent pretty eyes out for a Danish." Gina said, turning into assistant mode.

"Who's pretty eyes?" Bucky asked.

He had met the woman twice, once when he had been at the 99 with Katie to fetch Rumlow's case files and the other a week or so ago on the night out. He remembered clearly on their trip to the 99 Station, she had been teaching Holt how to trash talk. Frankly, the woman was something else.

"Clint..." Katie said, smiling as she sat down on her chair and switched her computer on.

"Is he married?" Gina asked nonchalantly.

The three of them then paused and looked at one another. They didn't know what to say because, truth be told, they hadn’t got a clue.

"I dunno actually, ask Romanoff..." Katie was the first to speak.

"She's kinda scary..." Gina trailed.

"No more than Diaz." Katie quipped, winking an eye at her.

"Yeah, ok, fair point. Anyway I'd love to chat all day but I got stuff to do so stop distracting me." Gina shrugged and started to sort some post on Romanoff's and Barton's desks.

Steve frowned and opened his mouth to say something to the woman but he was utterly lost for words. If whatthefuckness really wasn’t a term then someone needed to add it to the dictionary because that was the only thing that came to his mind right then. So he closed his mouth again and looked at Katie, who again was trying not to laugh.

He was so lost for words to express what he had just experienced that he didn't think too much of it when he dropped a kiss to Katie's cheek who looked up at him surprised.

"Oh... Ok... Finally." Gina said casually before heading back to her desk.

Steve then went bright red at the realization of what he had just done. That was not what he was supposed to be doing in the office he thought as he headed for his office door in a rush, cursing internally, without glancing in Bucky's direction. He didn't need to look at him to know he would be grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Thank God, Clint and Nat were nowhere to be seen.

Speaking of the devils, just as Steve was closing the door of his office he saw Clint walk in with Natasha with a brown paper bag, presumably from the deli round the corner. He could hear the banter the two detectives were having with Gina as he took off his jacket hung it over his chair's back.

He ignored the muffled sounds that came from the main office and decided to have a look at his post. He picked up a few letters and went through them. It seemed to be just the normal internal memos and stuff. There was also a note from Fury to say Gina would be starting. No shit Sherlock, he thought.

He then noticed one manila envelope that was a bit larger than normal. He frowned as he opened it to discover it was a box of special K cereal. He instantly dropped it and stood up giving a very loud “Fuck!”

Steve could hear the sound of chairs being dragged and concerned words he could not fully understand in the main office before his office door was slammed open and everyone headed inside, Katie leading them. But they all stopped on their tracks as they spotted the cereal box on his desk.

"Shit, he hasn’t finished...” Katie looked at it, as she glanced at Steve “Special K... SK...Fuck Steve, he's going for Sarah Klein." Katie stuttered, but still managed to get her thoughts expressed.

Steve blinked at the cereal box just as Katie's words sank in and instantly went into Cap mode.

"Buck, get onto Interpol. We need to inform the German Authorities, warn them. Barton and Romanoff I want everyone looking for Rumlow right now. Get Thor to step up patrols. He has to have been staying somewhere, so find him." he called it, nearly barked.

"I'll grab an evidence bag, get that to Tony." Katie offered.

"Doll, you don't have to do that, I can send someone from patrol..." Steve trailed, his voice softening.

"Did he just say doll?" Clint asked Nat, quirking up his eyebrow.

"Loud and present." she answered.

"I can do that, Steve." Katie said, ignoring Bucky's smirk as he had overheard Clint and Nat too.

"I’ll go with you, I said I would..." Steve insisted, but she cut him off.

"No, it's fine. I want to talk to him about what we found yesterday and think its best I do that alone. And besides, you're needed here."

"Ok, get to it. I'll call Fury, keep him updated." he said after a moment’s hesitation, nodding.

And that was the cue for everybody to retreat to the main office and start working on their Captain's orders. There was no time to waste. Steve grabbed his phone and was about to dial Fury's extension number when he noticed Bucky hadn't left his office and was smiling at him.

"What?" he asked, placing the phone on his desk again.

"So, before you kissed her cheek, and now you called her Doll in front of everyone." Bucky said, slumping on one of the chairs in front of Steve's desk.

Steve groaned and blushed again before asking “Did I? Fuck... It came out naturally, I didn't mean to..."

"Don't worry, Pal." Bucky said, waving whatever embarrassing thoughts Steve might be getting with a movement of his hand.

"I should control it though, Fury..." Steve said, ignoring his comment.

"Steve, Fury is on your side. Otherwise Katie would be cleaning toilets at Police Plaza instead of being here." Bucky tried to calm him.

But he remarked the last word and Steve got what he was trying to say. It was Saturday. Officially Katie should be off the case, but here she was working on it despite Fury’s orders. Mind you, Fury had been there yesterday when she had basically cracked it and had also, albeit maybe not expressly, given Steve the permission to keep her involved on an unofficial basis…but he would be damned if he abiding by the official orders and benching her now. And he was willing to bet no one in the station would go and tell Fury. With Wanda out of the picture, they were a perfectly assembled team again, watching each other's six.

Steve smiled at him and Bucky stood up and turned to go just as Katie came back with an evidence bag and gloves. He watched as she methodically put the box in the evidence bag and looked at him, nodding.

"Ok, I'll call you in a bit." she said.

"Ok..." Steve nodded and smiled at her. Then he checked around and decided this time it was safe, no eavesdroppers or unwanted witnesses, before saying "Love you. Try not to worry."

"I will and love you too..." she said back before heading off, nodding to Thor who was passing her.

"You're in a rush little Stark?" he asked.

"Gotta get this down to the lab. Talk to you in a bit..." she nodded.

"This is taller and stronger, is he married?" Bucky heard Gina asking Nat.

For the following hour and half everyone was doing what they had been told to as if doing it was second nature to them. The bullring was like a busy marketplace, full of people talking. Thor was helping Nat organize a sting whilst Clint was on the phone talking to some contacts, all of whom seemed to be some sort of former spies if you asked Bucky based on the odd bits of conversation he could get from his desk, trying to trace Rumlow and emailing his photo left, right and centre. Bucky was focused on getting onto Interpol, Rumlow's photo was already at all major airports, but they have to alert the Munich Police force to take Sarah Klein into protective custody.

Gina was assisting them all in whatever phone number or data they might need while screening calls according to importance or relevance to the priority case and taking messages for all of them and Bucky had to give the woman credit, she was doing it well.

At some point Bucky saw Gina stand up from her desk and beeline to Nat's desk where Thor was perched revising some notes on the police operative for the sting.

"Can I get you something to drink?" she said looking at the tall blonde as she pointed in the direction of the kitchen with her right thumb. "Maybe tea?" she insisted, seeing Thor was looking at her wondering who the woman was.

"I don't drink tea." he stated plainly.

"What do you drink?" Gina asked again, now curious about the man.

"Not tea." he stated again as if it was obvious.

Bucky chuckled as he saw Gina look at Thor as if he was some kind of mixture between an alien from another planet and a God, and just as she shrugged and moved to head for the kitchen she nodded at the photos of cereal brands that Natasha was shoving back into a file.

"By the way, what's with the cereal?" she asked.

Natasha then started to explain but soon Thor cut her off and started rambling about how every victim had a different make of cereal shoved down their throats once they were dead. There had been Puffed Rice, Jump Start, Juicy Skulls and finally Apple Puffs.

"God, that's so unimaginative. It should be a cereal that represents the person..." Gina spoke her mind.

"It did." Bucky explained. "It was their initials."

"No. I mean like their personalities..." she said before elaborating on her idea. "So, I would be something sophisticated, like a Granola."

Bucky, Thor and Natasha looked at her, finding it hard to believe what she had just said and Clint snorted as he lifted his eyes from the screen of his computer. At that point Steve walked out about to ask for an update when Gina continued her charade.

"And Captain Hottie Rogers here would be Cap'n Crunch" she said with a flourish of her hand and a wide grin, proud of her own joke.

"What are you talking about?" Steve asked her. "What is she talking about?" he asked again, looking at Natasha this time.

"She's just critiquing the Cereal Serial Killer's choice of breakfast snack." the detective said, smiling slightly.

Steve took a deep breath, reminding himself she wouldn't be here for long, before speaking. "Ok, can we focus, please? Thor, report on your troops."

"The gates of hell are filled with..."

Steve stopped listening to Thor, who seemed to have been infected by Gina's nonsense rambling, as from the corner of his eye he saw Clint whisper something to Nat, who snorted. Steve then glared at her. He had too much on his plate right now as it was and they were starting to give him a headache with their shenanigans and high-school whispers.

"Care to share with the rest of the team?" he asked Clint, sternly.

"Sorry, Cap. It…it was a bad joke." Clint apologized.

"Well, it was clearly amusing so let's hear it." Steve insisted.

Clint looked at Bucky, who nodded discreetly at him. Steve had used his Captain voice, he was pissed off. You'd better answer him, pal.

"I just reminded Nat of a joke we used to make... how Katie would be your Special K, that's all, was just a..." Clint explained. “We code named our matchmaking plan Operation Cap’n Crunch and Special K…you know, it…”

"Ha, that's amusing." Thor's laugh echoed throughout the main office, earning an appreciative look from Gina. "Cap'n Crunch and Special K..." he added, shaking his head.

But instead of laughing at the lame joke a cold feeling washed over Steve as the lightbulb suddenly lit up in his head. "Shit."

"Sorry..." Thor trailed, starting an apology.

But Steve wasn't listening to him, his eyes darted at Bucky instead whose mouth had dropped open.

"It's not Sarah Klein..." Bucky mumbled, looking at his friend.

Steve pulled out his phone and pressed the call button. Bucky saw his hand tremble as he brought the device to his ear and yelled "Buck, call Tony. Check if Katie is there. Hurry!"

Clint and Nat shared an understanding and concerned glance just before Gina asked "What's going on?"

Natasha looked at her and swallowed before answering. "Special K...it's Katie Stark... not Sarah Klein."

"Steve..." Bucky's voice which was slightly shaky attracted all the attention just as Steve looked at him. "Tony says Katie hasn't been to the lab..."

"Fuck!" Steve hollered. "Son of a bitch!" he swore again, kicking a chair before turning and starting barking orders, going on full Captain mode like they had never seen him before.

"Natasha, get the CCTV up from the parking lot." he ordered before pointing at Clint "If she left in her car, get on to traffic, pull up any cameras on the way to the lab, see if they track her plate."

Next he pointed at Thor, then Bucky "You, you with me now, we'll take a patrol car and run the route to the lab..."

There was a flurry of movement in the office as everyone jumped to it. Steve, Bucky and Thor literally ran from the office as soon as Steve had grabbed his jacket. He was trying to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, but his breakfast wasn't willing to cooperate.

#csi rogers and barnes #csi au #steve rogers #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x oc #katie stark #bucky barnes #tony stark #natasha romanoff #clint barton #thor #bruce banner #brooklyn 99 #mcu #mcu fanfiction

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strangebrews · 4 years

Text

tea for two

Summary: After nearly two hours of preparation, Alfie was finally ready. The table was set, the tea was brewed, and the poison watched at the end of the counter. That was Alfie’s source of entertainment. // Alfie engages in tea party Russian roulette that he himself organized. Tommy, eventually, reacts.

Notes: i had a tiny idea regarding alfie organizing lethal tea parties for funsies a while back, and it became this. also thank you to @sholomons + @those-peakyboys for reading bits of this as a sanity check <3

Warnings: Suicidal Ideation/Suicide Scare/Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms/ - those are the main ones, but if you think there should be more let me know. The rest of them can be found on the AO3 post. I promise this isn’t some devastating ending though, lmao, technically is supposed to be //romantic// in a twisted Tommy Shelby way.

On AO3

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Alfie indulged in the art of organizing tea parties later in life, once the crime became routine and uninspiring.

The idea came to him one afternoon, while thumbing through the day’s post. He was struck by a revelation, of sorts, “yeah, because when I went to pick up my cup, right,” he had described the moment to Tommy in detail, “I noticed that there, at the very bottom where the tea leaves floated—there was a message.” His eyes had narrowed, voice low, fingers motioning in the air trying to conjure up the image, “and you know what they were saying to me, those leaves, Tommy—they were saying Alfie, you have got to stop hanging around that Shelby—his witchcraft and madness are starting to rub off on you ” he’d cackled then, which meant the origins would remain unexplained.

Alfie did, however, commit himself to the task.

He decided the event would take place in his dining room, using the hand-carved table featured there. Tommy watched him prepare from afar the day of the first tea party. He did not endorse the fucking behavior, but he was curious—it was rare to see Solomons fuss over plate placements.

A frilly tablecloth was dug out from the back of a cupboard, and freshly picked flowers decorated the middle. Alfie used his best porcelain set—the one he claimed was the last heirloom still in his possession from the mother’s side of his family. That bit was a lie, he had admitted to Tommy one day. Instead, he had Ollie scavenge it from some shop window with a sock over his head and tears in his eyes—but that tale was far less interesting. And the foundational role of any host, Alfie knew, was to entertain his esteemed guests.

Tiny silver spoons—ones which nearly disappeared in Alfie’s hand—lay atop carefully folded napkins. He drew the shades, and arranged the biscuits, lips pursed in concentration. The scene looked quite pretty, actually. Meticulously organized—an unexpected detail coming from Alfie Solomons.

And after nearly two hours of preparation, Alfie was finally ready. The table was set, the tea was brewed, and the poison watched at the end of the counter.

That was Alfie’s source of entertainment.

+++

His guests were an array of different people. Old friends, new enemies, long standing members of his payroll, a few of the fanciest individuals he knew—each person with some form of stain on their record, at some point having wronged him. Alfie was not entirely cruel.

“It’ll be a shame,” he had said, “but everyone dies at some point, yeah?”

The trick about the poison was that it took a while to pollute the veins. Alfie had considered this detail as thoughtfully as he had the decorations—determined to avoid frothing mouths from ruining the appeal of his parties. The winners would appear fine until the next morning, so the poison was untraceable in both taste and source.

For a while, at least. Though even if the pieces were eventually slotted together—who would be brave enough to accuse an aging man of serving tea?

“It just might be genius, Tommy.” Alfie had lifted the vial towards him, eyes glazed over with self-admiration. Going after him would look ridiculous, Alfie knew this. Tommy knew this, and he smiled besides himself. Perhaps it was.

And as any good host, Alfie partook in the activity himself—an equal player in the game. A few clear drops coated the bottom of a cup, the cups were mixed up, the location was forgotten.

The fact that Alfie had grown desensitized towards his own death was no shock—he and Tommy shared the same indifference. Though what Tommy struggled to understand was his sudden interest in openly pursuing it.

Though, didn’t they do that already? Alfie had asked. Their years brimmed with pacts, vindictive partners, with mouthing off to men whose fingers trembled against triggers. They had never run in the opposite direction of death, rather alongside it—the place where their paths would converge had always been just along the horizon. Alfie’s behavior was nothing but a variation of that.

“More creative.” he had claimed—better than being killed by a gun or a knife, “Or by a blade sewn into a fucking hat. Imagine that.” he smirked. It was only funny because they were past killing each other now—Alfie had beaten Tommy to the initiative.

+++

Of course, the cordial invitation had been extended to Tommy Shelby as well.

“And how have I wronged you?” Tommy had asked. Alfie laughed, promising it would be a clean cup, but Tommy refused regardless. The whole matter was much too dramatic for his taste.

He would stay the night of the tea party, though—was due for a fuck, anyway.

In truth, Tommy had been staying the night more frequently.

It was Alfie who had initially offered to move the location of their meetings . The official reason he’d cited was for more security, but Tommy had seen him holding his back in pain each time he’d stepped out of the office.

Fucking in a bed, as opposed to on a desk, toed the line with an intimacy Tommy was cautious about crossing, but the suggestion was too enticing to refuse—aging had not been doing either of them any favors. And because it was Alfie who had made the proposal, Tommy still had room to cut himself free of any strings attached.

The routine had continued as usual at first—business, fuck, leave. Tommy would gather his clothes frantically afterwards, hopping out the door with only one sock on. He was terrified of the implications staying longer would have—the consequences it could bring.

Though that chaos eventually transitioned into a slower collection of his belongings—fatigue and the haze of his orgasm tethering him to the bed. He stayed for longer, counted the cracks in Alfie’s ceiling and the number of stripes on his sheets. These extra moments seemed progressively less threatening.

“Are you truly that desperate to return to that lonely fucking castle of yours, mate?” The question came months later, while Tommy sat on the side of the bed, rubbing the stiffness from his legs. He was startled by the voice—Alfie tended to slip into a slumber nearly immediately after they’d pulled away from each other.

Lonely castle. It sounded worse when phrased that way. A kingdom crafted at the expense of everyone around him. Pitiful.

Tommy had not entertained Alfie with an answer, but still chose to lay back down—comforted by the idea of a few more hours of sleep. He left the next day wordlessly, and sleeping over became routine. The castle would still be standing in the morning.

Yet that change didn’t mean anything, Tommy reasoned. Whether he permitted himself to stay or not, it was still just fucking —nothing more complicated than that.

So perhaps it’d be a shame if Alfie finally won one of his rounds, Tommy thought the evening of that first tea party—his business would be missed. But he remained, on the whole, unbothered by it.

Everyone died at some point.

+++

Each chair was occupied with an esteemed guest the first time. They were all impressed by the sudden burst of hospitality—thankful for Alfie’s unspoken forgiveness of their past transgressions against him.

Assumption was quite lethal.

Meaningless chatter swelled the air in the room, shrill laughter echoing off of the walls. Alfie floated from place to place, offering stories and more food, savoring each one of his sips. He chuckled often, rolled his eyes on cue, and held his pinky up.

It was a performance, yet no one in attendance was aware they were a part of the show.

He caught their attention in particular with a story from before the war. Something to do with a stray dog, an appalled mother and a wet carpet—certain elements of which were exaggerated. “Oh Alfie!” he’d felt a small pat on his shoulder, a gesture which in any other circumstances would have earned the person a cut on the cheek, but Alfie simply smiled and patted back. It could be you .

Alfie found excitement in it all—an ironic strengthening of the energy which had been slowly draining from his body.

It was nearly enough to forget about the cancer.

Cancer could have been considered a motive—it was the letter from the doctor speculating about his expiration date which had sparked the inspiration for the tea party business. Though Alfie didn’t like to dwell on that coincidence. Much rather preferred to keep the reason as Alfie’s sudden burst of twisted thrill-seeking . Not that anyone would know about the sickness, regardless—Thomas Shelby included. He fully intended to live out these days undisturbed by sympathy.

He came to bed that night with cheeks flushed and things to say. Granted, Alfie always had a mouth full of words, but they were stories this time—things he’d seen and heard. Tommy had propped himself up against the headrest, pulling on cigarette after cigarette, feigning disinterest.

A cousin of the Sabini’s had brought Alfie a bottle of wine, he learned. There had been a bit of tea spilling on the carpet sometime in the middle, though it had occurred after a refill, Alfie reassured. Nearly everyone offered some comment about the design on the porcelain, sniffed the flowers, and claimed they had enjoyed themselves in the doorway.

“Silly little puppets, yeah—every last one.” Alfie had laughed and blown the candle on the nightstand out. It was nice, actually, being able to share this bit of secrecy with Tommy. An outlet, of sorts, and it helped that Alfie did not have to truly explain himself to him.

It was the first night Tommy stayed which did not involve fucking.

+++

Tommy continued accepting the invitations to be an invisible guest.

Unsurprisingly, one party had not been enough to satiate Alfie’s newfound appetite for this version of Russian roulette and finger sandwiches, so he kept organizing them. It tended to be the same crowd each time, with a few new faces here and there—replacements for any vacant seats.

Alfie gradually grew fancier—a nicer tablecloth, more biscuits, a larger array of tea. He had different stories to tell, new rings to show off and even Ollie had grown quite fond of the flower picking aspect of his job, asking a few days in advance if he had any preferences.

Alfie collapsed beside Tommy after the fifth party, exhausted and unwilling to relay the night’s events. It wasn’t necessarily healthy for his back, Tommy had mused—all those hours of wandering around the room, hunched over chairs—but his mouth stayed shut, and they fell asleep in silence.

Even after nights when his insomnia had been generous, Tommy woke first.

Alfie breathed beside him.

It was a relief, Tommy admitted—spared him the dramatics of having to drag Alfie out from between the sheets himself. He’d imagined that scenario once or twice while waiting on Alfie to stop his entertaining, considering what exactly he would do with Alfie’s body just—laying there. Notify the staff most likely, but he wasn’t quite sure what beyond that. Perhaps shake his hand, or pay his respects through a whispered congratulations , yet Alfie always managed to interrupt that train of thought before anything concrete was decided on.

He was hesitant to leave the morning after the fifth night, oddly disappointed that Alfie had not shared any stories. It was an uncomfortable feeling, but he decided to wait until Alfie woke. There was time to spare, Tommy argued with himself, it was the weekend—as if that meant anything in this line of business.

Idling in bed until the moment arrived was out of the question. Roaming his halls also seemed inappropriate—and risky, in case Ollie had let himself in. So Tommy settled on visiting the kitchen to eat. Attempt to, at least.

Preparing food provided only momentary relief from the fact that staying had been an absolutely idiotic idea. Tommy brewed some tea—for the irony, if anything else—and made toast. Some for him, some for Alfie, though he winced at the choice and threw Alfie’s portion in the bin. Too much.

He opened the morning paper. Squirmed in his chair. Checked the time. Returned to reading. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Alfie eventually joined him in the kitchen, sleep still settled on his limbs. His hair was sticking up in uneven tufts, beard flattened on the side he’d been lying on. Nothing indicated he was surprised that Tommy had remained in the house.

“So you’re still here then, eh?” Tommy said, eyes on the news, but desperate to fill the silence.

Alfie only ran a heavy palm across his face. “Yeah, still fucking here.”

+++

The parties remained successful and Alfie’s enthusiasm persisted. Guests streamed in week after week—whether out of fear or curiousity was unclear. It was quite unusual to be in Alfie Solomon’s presence within an unthreatening environment, but they seemed to appreciate his change in character.

And the tea was always delicious.

It was Tommy who suffered the change in opinion, pacing the bedroom with a clenched jaw. He had certain ideas—to make an appearance, peek through keyholes or press his ear to the door, to somehow interfere—but he cast them all aside.

Time alone had never been healthy for him. Funny, for a man who ensured his own abandonment.

Nervous. The word finally rose above all of the other thoughts at one point and settled bitterly on his tongue. Tommy was nervous.

“Aren’t you fucking bored of this yet, Alfie?” he asked as casually as possible, in between pulls of his cigarette, but Alfie had shook his head.

“I should have done this sooner.” he claimed, eyes dancing, and for some reason the sentence felt like a slap to the face.

Tommy did not fight back.

+++

Alfie retired earlier than usual one night, reasoned it was due to a headache. Tommy bit down on his lip to prevent any visible reaction.

He slipped under the covers, hand searching for the band of Tommy’s pants —ar ousal had always reigned above pain for Alfie —but Tommy swatted it away, ignoring the slight tenting. “Not today, Alfie.”

Alfie grunted. It was not necessarily unusual for Tommy to refuse him, though Tommy’s face was flushed, teeth gnawing at the inner flesh of his cheek. There was still potential in the moment.

“But Tommy,” he whispered, sliding up against him, lips grazing Tommy’s neck and fingers playing at his hip. “I may be dead tomorrow.” and he placed a firm kiss to his Adam’s apple. It was only meant to be a teasing remark —nothing more than Alfie’s greedy attempt at extracting a fuck out of the other man—but the words wrapped themselves around Tommy’s throat.

Tommy snatched Alfie by the hair, tearing him away from his skin. Their eyes met, Alfie squirming besides himself under the cold stare. “You might be dead tomorrow.” Tommy repeated, nodding in agreement. Out of reach .

And he kissed him.

Once. Twice. Grip slowly loosening, hips finally shifting into Alfie’s touch. His hand remained in the hair, the other one snaking around Alfie’s waist, clothes being peeled off feverishly. Alfie’s efforts proved successful.

They fucked that night to the brink of exhaustion, wrapped in the darkness, spent and gasping for air, and when Alfie pulled away, Tommy choked on a please echoing in his throat.

It was a hollow plea—for something he was too terrified to admit.

+ ++

The following morning after he woke, Tommy lingered in bed.

Alfie snored facing him, rested on top of his left arm. Sleep softened him, Tommy noted—hid the pain behind his eyelids, smoothed the creases from his forehead. He reached out hesitantly to run the backs of his fingers across Alfie’s shoulder, along the shell of his ear, his jaw, tugging down the covers to find his thighs. It was a peaceful moment—rare and terminal—and Tommy was suddenly gripped by an urge to memorize it. Drink in every detail.

Tommy took advantage of the safety unconsciousness had provided him and settled back down, shifting closer to Alfie’s body—close enough so that the tips of their noses were brushing against one another. He lay still, soaking in the warmth of Alfie’s exhales, and tried to align their breathing.

The task proved to be more challenging than expected. Tommy stumbled over his own inhales, yet Alfie continued to be one breath ahead of him. Inhale. Exhale . Out of sync. And it was a silly effort, naive and trivial, but Tommy’s heart still hammered at his ribcage in frustration. Because there had to be something there , in the alignment. Some kind of meaning, a mutual understanding shared between their bodies. A form of reassurance. A sign of togetherness —that Tommy was not fucking mad for wanting to share these breaths with Alfie for longer than the bastard had planned for himself.

But each attempt sputtered and failed.

He slammed his fist into the mattress and rolled off the bed, waking Alfie in the process.

The toast was burnt that morning.

No tea— fuck tea.

Alfie walked into the kitchen, rubbed a palm across his face instinctively. The regular question never arrived, but he answered its ghost regardless. “Still here.”

Yes , Tommy thought, miraculous .

He left for Birmingham immediately after breakfast, and abandoned his tendency of visiting Alfie in between the special occasions. He would know when the next party would be—the invitation would arrive in the post a few days before it.

+++

A week later, there were only 16 people in attendance, two couples were missing. Whether they had grown suspicious or were dead was left unclarified—Alfie was only interested in one outcome.

The event proceeded as usual: eat, laugh, sip, Alfie refilling his cup more frequently than usual. Nobody questioned the absence. It was normal.

And then it was not, because Tommy Shelby walked into the room — eyes bloodshot, scanning the scene.

There was a 1 in 16 chance that Alfie poisoned himself today, Tommy noted, but he had endured this night after night and he found he’d grown quite bored of the adrenaline. The uncertainty. So he took a stand at the head of the table this time around, his hand hidden behind his coat.

It was meant to be a distraction, perhaps a form of confession —anything to get Alfie to stop these fucking games. Whispers swept the room, mouths parted in surprise—it was a rare occurrence, seeing Tommy Shelby in attendance—and Alfie sighed, because he knew, he fucking knew that Thomas was here to spoil the fun.

The gun pointed to Tommy’s head, and Tommy’s head pointed towards Alfie.

“One,” 15 pairs of alarmed eyes stared at Tommy’s finger on the trigger. Only 1 pair glared back into his own. Alfie refused to set the teacup down.

“Have you gone fucking mad, mate?” Tommy had actually heard they called this love .

“Two.” The guests were moving, tripping over chairs, rugs, each other, searching frantically for the exit. The taboo of witnessing a potential suicide outweighed their curiousity, it seemed. So easy to clear a room.

The doors slammed shut, silence replacing the sound. It was empty now. Just him, and Alfie, and the gun, and the poison laughing out from one of the cups.

“Three.” Bang.

Tommy’s body crumpled to the floor.

He was lying half underneath the table when Alfie finally walked over. His eyes were wide open. Unscathed.

Alfie snatched the gun from his hand, clicked open the cylinder. “Tommy, you know, you’re not fucking invited to the next one, yeah?” the first shot had been a blank, but there was a single bullet inside. “Right—on account of the fucking mess you’ve made here today.”

“I’m well aware, Alfie.” he was tracing the pattern of the table’s wood with a shaky finger. Alfie grunted and tossed the gun aside. He collapsed awkwardly beside him, taking Tommy’s hand into his own. It would weather his joints even further, lying down here on the floor, Alfie was well aware, but this was the only act of affirmation which seemed appropriate.

He did not ask about the bullet. He knew why it was there. Kept as a precaution—in case Alfie had decided to drink anyway.

They breathed together.

#ok giving up after this try #tommy x alfie #alfie x tommy #sholomons #tofie #tommy shelby #alfie solomons #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #mine

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writingsbychlo · 4 years

Text

feels like loneliness (08)

word count; 7701

summary; thomas is frustrated and distnacing himself from everyone, and only one person can break through that.

notes; took me a while to sort this out after tumblr fucked it up, I’m sorry it took so long to get uploaded!

warnings; smut, overstimulation, aggressive sex.

“I keep on the go but, I don't mean to tease you”

Thomas was stressed. He had been for months. Everyone was worked up about how they were going to get Minho back. Their group had been growing, considerably, over the last few months, as they had slowly travelled their way to the abandoned town by the shore three months ago, they had picked up stragglers along the way, but no matter how many new minds were put to the task, they were still at a dead end.

In the first couple of months, they had made huge progress. It seemed like they were getting closer and closer to a solution every day, closer to a way to save Minho, bring him back safely. Around month three, as they’d found their new place to stay, they’d hit a bump. It was like they had all the information and all the ideas, but the puzzle pieces just didn’t seem to slot together quite right. Around month four, Vince had become distracted, the more kids that joined and needed help, the more determined he was to get them to the safe haven. The ship they had been working on was getting closer and closer to being ready to go with each passing day.

Everybody’s nerves were fried, what with WCKD beginning to do checks each week that seemed to be drawing nearer each time they were conducted. Thomas had been putting everything on his shoulders, from all that had gone wrong that night to the present day, any little error and mistake was added to the weight on his back, and no matter how much anyone tried to relieve him of the guilt, he would snap or storm away. Newt was missing his friends, Minho imparticular, and the weight of everybody else he had lost was dragging heavily on his heart.

Vince was stressed about getting everybody to the safe haven, he had committed to it, and was working himself up into a frenzy. Brenda and Jorge were trying to make themselves useful, dig themselves into the community deeply enough that they’d be taken to the safe haven too, despite their lack of immunity, and the tickling timebomb on Brenda’s shoulder, seemingly waiting for her to suddenly crank out.

And you? You were surprised your hair wasn’t falling out with stress and anger.

You had been going over your notes, again and again, reading through every inch of every page as you tried to decipher your own notes, but with only a drip of your memories, you only had a drip of your knowledge. You just weren’t as clever without them, you couldn’t understand your own works, and you certainly couldn’t finish your final push for a cure, no matter how hard you tried. You were worried about all your friends, and for Thomas especially, who had been pulling in on himself more and more as he worked long nights and hard days to save his friend.

You had tried to talk to him, to help him. At first, you’d settled on waiting, until you got somewhere safe to be able to talk about what you would be, where things would go. When you had finally reached your temporary camp, he had instead seemed to close down completely. He sealed himself away from everyone, closing the door and staying behind it. He’d barely speak, and you were growing lonely without him.

When you reached out, he often pulled away, shooting anyone who tried to distract him from his work a look or harsh words that sent them reeling. He barely even let his hand brush against yours anymore. Bags were hanging under his eyes, and the discussion of whatever you two were going to be hadn’t just been tabled for another day, he’d boxed it up, sealed it tight and put it into storage. Around about the middle of month four, you’d all stopped trying altogether.

He’s become unbearable to be around, throwing anger tantrums and shouting, storming and stropping around, throwing insults and accusations around like they were hello’s and you’d all given up entirely. He’d almost fought Newt hours prior, the blonde simply having told him maybe he should take a break for his health, get some sleep or just relax, and when he’d placed a hand on his shoulder, Thomas had almost snapped it in anger when he yanked the touch away.

Now, two were simmering at each other from across the table. A table with a map set out, little rocks and figures representing different obstacles and items they had in their way and at their disposal. A table, that they had been gathering around every single day since they had gotten here, at the ex-runner’s request, and not a single piece had moved its place in two weeks now. As Vince finished telling Thomas that he was pulling back for a while to finish fixing the ship, his anger bubbled over, and the boy slammed his fist down onto the table, the pieces on the map jumping at the disturbance and he screamed loudly.

He yelled obscenities at everyone, storming from the room and kicking at barrels and scrap as he went, the sounds of his anger fading away as he made the trek to the little room he’d claimed as his own, secluded from everyone else so he could brood in isolation. You sighed loudly, eyes sliding shut and you bit at the nail on your thumb, the chatter around you taking up.

“This is ridiculous. Someone needs to go and talk with him, hash it out because this obsession is going too far.” Vince had concluded, and your head tilted to the side, hands coming to sit on your hips as you opened your eyes, only to find everybody looking at you. Your own eyes widened as your jaw dropped, and you shook your head quickly. “No, absolutely not.”

“You’re the only one who can do it, love.”

“That is not true! Any one of you could talk to him! Why does it have to be me?” You fought, your eyebrows shooting up but you could already tell you were losing the battle as they all continued to look at you.

“He’s snapped at all of us, and tried to take a physical blow at most of us.” Jorge chuckled, and Newt scowled at him, Frypan coming up to rub subconsciously at the place where they blackeye he’s been given had only just faded.

“With you, he just bites his tongue and storms off to simmer quietly.” Brenda added, and you looked at her pleadingly, hoping she would’ve taken your side and she raised her arms in defence as her gaze left yours. “Hey, don’t give me that look! He loves you, so you have to be the one to go talk to him.”

“He does not! Shut it, before I beat the flare to it and take you out myself.” She whistled, laughing at your weak threat, and you fought the urge to laugh with her.

“He does, love, that is why you have to go get him to sort his bloody temper out.” Newt tried to ease the tension, still caring for the boy even through the countless fights they had been having and you groaned loudly.

“If he did, he wouldn't be treating me like this. This isn’t how you treat someone you love.” You murmured, swallowing thickly and looking back up to them all. “But, I will go and talk to him, to get all you shanks off my back.”

Newt whooped, the group smiling happily and the blonde clapped his hands down on your shoulders, steering you towards the door. “Minho is going to be thrilled when he hears you using Glader-slang.” He joked, and you rolled your eyes with a laugh, setting off on the short trek to follow the direction Thomas had gone in only minutes prior.

You could hear him throwing things about and shouting angrily before you had even stopped outside his door, the mess inside being evident as you opened it carefully, leaning your shoulder against the frame as he continued to strop, his eyes only catching sight of you a few seconds later. “You wanna’ talk about it?”

“I don’t want to talk about anything.” He spat, panting aggressively as he ran a hand through his hair, looking back at you when you didn’t move. “Especially not with you.”

Your brow furrowed, a scoff leaving you as his words cut deep, hurt seeping into the open wound. “Excuse me? What is that supposed to mean?”

When he looked back to you, he could see the hurt look in your eyes, the sharp look on his features softening minutely as he heard the pain in your voice at his outburst and he let out a groan. “Fuck, I-I didn’t mean it like that. You just wouldn’t-”

“Understand? You’re treating me, all your friends, like shit, because you don’t think we wouldn’t understand?” You shook your head, dipping it as you pushed yourself from your leaned position, nails digging into the skin of your palms as you clenched your fists. “Do you-”

“Can you just leave me alone?” His words were sliced at you, digging deeper than any insult he’d given you so far had as he continued to push you away, and you squeezed your eyes shut, forcing your emotions down, desperate to say your piece.

“Sure, Thomas. I’ll go, I’ll leave you alone. You have made it very clear over the last few months that you don’t want me around you.” You were seething, his eyes widening at your words and his jaw dropped open to speak, though your glare shut him up. “But, don’t you dare think for a second that I don’t understand what you went through! What you are going through!” Your finger jabbed into his chest as you stormed forwards, and he was shocked as you finally snapped at him after all this time. “What? You lived in the maze for a week? I lived that hell for over a year, Thomas! I watched my friends die, I watched people I care about get taken and I suffered too! So, don’t you dare have the audacity to tell me that I don’t get it!”

You were screaming in his face, tears lining your eyes as the faces of all of those you had lost flashed behind your eyes, and he huffed, not understanding how to convey how he was feeling. “You don’t! You don’t get it though!” You looked up at him, your jaw clenched as you glared at him in fury. “You don’t have all this pressure on your shoulders, to save everyone, to be the leader and to find a way to save them all! I-I feel.. I need to save them! All of them! I didn’t want to talk about it with you because I knew I’d end up screaming and getting angry with, and goddammit, you are the only person here who’s opinion has ever mattered and I didn’t want you to see me as fucking weak!”

The silence echoed around the room as he tugged on his hair, growling to himself as he paced and you were shocked, the sound of your breathing audible in the deafening silence hanging over you both. You reached out cautiously, bringing him to a stop as tears filled his eyes and you reached up, taking his hands from where they were tugging at the roots of his locks carefully, letting them hang by his side.

Your hand cupped his cheek gently, shaking your head as you looked at him and he leaned into your hand, his own coming up to hold your touch to him as his eyes closed and a happy sigh slipped from him, showing just how much he had missed you in his blinding rage.

“I have never seen you as weak, Tommy. You’re the strongest person I know.”

“I-It’s so hard. I feel trapped, I have all this anger and energy and I’m spending all day just waiting for news and there is none. I can’t go anywhere!” You raised your other hand, bringing it up to his face, thumbs smoothing over his skin and wiping the tears away as they finally leaked from his eyes. “I’m so hopped up on adrenaline all the time and I can’t run, because we’re trying to keep a low profile, and I have so much fucking stress that I can’t even sleep at night and my hands won’t stop shaking and I have no way to take it out and I ju-”

“Take it out on me.”

His eyes snapped open, fear taking over his body as he backed away from you, the tremble in his hands spreading across his whole body as he backed away. “What? What are you talking about?” He didn’t understand, and he feared for you, his hands clenched by his sides as you closed the door behind you, the soft click echoing from the walls.

When you reached for his hand, he snatched it away, backing up into the wall and you stepped closer, taking his shaking fist in your hand as you delicately unfurled his fingers, his hand laying open and flat in yours. “Your anger and your stress, Tommy.” Taking his hand, you placed it on your waist gently, his fingers curling around your body and twitching against you. “There are more ways to burn off all your extra energy than getting angry or running.”

He was nervous, his eyes scanning over every inch of your face as he assessed the situation, and he raised his other hand, fingers tucking under the edge of your top to rest against your flushed skin, goosebumps rising over your body at the fell of his sorely missed touch. “I’ve missed you so much.” He brought his hand up, tucking hair behind your ear delicately as he held himself back, struggling to hold back his urges and his entire body was oozing pent up rage and energy, his foot tapping against the carpet subconsciously, his fingers on your body flexing absentmindedly as he gnawed on his lower lip. “I can’t, I could hurt you.”

You let out a small laugh, raising your hands to cup his cheeks, trying to pull his face down as he resisted, and you rolled up onto the balls of your feet instead, your noses bumping and brushing. He sucked in a breath, your own fanning over his cheeks as your lips practically brushed, his grip on you tightening as he pressed down what he really wanted to let out. “I can take it, Tommy. Give me all you’ve got.”

His eyes lingered on yours for a split second, before he had spun you around, your back pressed to the wall as his body fell flat against yours, his lips working over yours and stealing every breath from your lungs. His touch was relentless, your shocked gasps swallowed by him as his tongue traced your closed lips, sucking your bottom one into his mouth to part them.

Your fingers tugged at the bottom of his shirt, a chuckle on his lips as you whimpered and he lifted it up, his hands leaving your waist as he helped you to discard the material over his head, throwing it away across the room as you hands skimmed along his chest. His fingers wrapped around your wrists tightly, pausing your movements as he lifted them up, holding them above your head and pinning them to the wall.

“Keep these here until I tell you otherwise.” His words were spoken deep and low, and you whined, nodding in acknowledgement. His fingers moved down to play with the waistband on your denim shorts, fingers easily popping the button on the stiff material and easing the zipper down. Sliding his hands lower, the digits of his fingers pressed through the cotton to press against your clothed clit, nail scratching lightly over the covered nub as your hips jumped up.

“Shit, Tommy..” Your arms buckled at the elbow, falling down the wall as your hips twitched when he started rubbing slow circles with his fingers.

“Hands up for me, I like the way your tits look when you stretch your arms up.” He mumbled the words against your flesh as he trailed his kisses down and along your jaw, licking and sucking at your skin as he went. You stretched them back up, ignoring the ache in your muscles, your mind blanking as his fingers pushed aside the material of your panties, swiping through your slick folds and swirling around your entrance.

Pushing a single digit into your core, a whine fell from you, your head tipping back to rest against the wall, a small ‘thud’ sounding at the impact and he growled when he couldn't push your top any further to the side, anger flooding him once again. “This is in my way.” He tugged at the hemline of your top with his teeth, before pulling away from you and you nodded.

“Do you want me to-” He pulled his hand from your pants, two hands attaching to the neckline as he pulled roughly, tearing the fabric straight down the middle and you couldn't hold back the moan you let out at the action. “Oh, or just do that.. shit..”

He grinned, hands pushing your sports bra up over your breasts to expose them to the cold air and you whimpered, his hand finding home between your thighs again as he pushed two fingers into you, pumping them quickly as you spasmed in his grasp. His lips sealed around one of your nipples, lapping leisurely at the bud and grunting as your fingers squeezed around him, the sounds he was drawing from you were echoing from the walls of the room.

His free hand smoothed up from your waist, his mouth switching breasts and his fingertips moved up over your arms, lacing his hand together with one of yours, pinned to the wall above your head as he brought his lips back up along your neck. He was sucking gently at your jaw, your breathing getting quicker as your eyes squeezed shut, pleasure surging through you. His fingers pumped rapidly, the heel of his hand creating a delicious friction against your clit as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

You rolled up onto your tiptoes, squeaks and cries leaving you and your chest pressed up against his, hot air fanning over your neck as you moved towards your climax. “Tommy, I’m..”

“Not yet, you’re not. I don’t need you getting tired out before we really have some fun.” He smirked, pulling his hand back from your pants and sucking his fingers into his mouth to clean them, nodding his head to your shorts, still hanging open and his hand left yours. Sliding your hands down the wall, you shakily dropped your shorts to the ground, kicking off your boots and socks as you tried to strip yourself down before him, his dark gaze on you as you let the shredded material of your top drop away, your sports bra soon following it.

He palmed himself through his jeans, and you lunged up into him, pressing your lips to his and you fumbled with his belt, tugging his jeans down until they fell to the floor, his boxers following and he kicked off the rest of his clothes, the air between the two of you hot and heavy as your fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking his hard member as precum dribbled over your fingers. “Can’t wait to bury myself inside you, been thinking about it for so long.” He whispered, your lips leaving his and he cupped your cheeks, pulling your face back to meet his as his tongue pushed past the seam of your lips, tangling with yours in a wet and sloppy kiss.

He was dominating you in every way, and when you felt your back meet the wall once again, you had barely heard the word ‘jump’ fall from him before you were launching yourself into his arms, his large hands gripping your thighs as your legs wrapped around his waist, his cock sliding through your folds.

Lining himself up, he eased himself into you, your eyes rolling back as he sank deeper and deeper into your tight hole, a low groan falling from him as his forehead fell to your shoulder. “You’re so tight, fuck..”

“Well, you know, it’s been quite a while since I last slept with anyone.” You teased, the dark look on his face lightening just a tad as he let the corners of his lips pull up, shaking his head slightly.

“Shut up and kiss me.” You grinned, your lips finding his as he set a slow rhythm, his hips pulling back from yours as he eased himself in and out of you, both of you settling into the feeling, his pace picking up. Your lips slanted across his, and he happily welcomed your touch, his lips parting as he deepened the kiss with you.

Your arms looped around his neck, fingers weaving into his hair, tugging on fistfuls of it as he growled into your mouth, lips moving harsher against yours as his hips snapped up into yours. Pulling you away from the wall, he placed you down on the edge of the desk, his hand sliding up your stomach to sit between your breasts as he pushed you down, your back meeting the wood of the table. He was stretching you out in all new ways and tapping all new spots, and your jaw hung open, silent sounds never making it to his ears.

With hands still on you, he leaned back, just far enough to watch as he fucked into you, his wet cock slipping in and out of you perfectly, your walls hugging around him and squeezing him just right. You were already wound up and close, and as his fingers slipped down to pinch at your clit cheekily your back arched up from the wood. Your fingers raked along it, sure you were tearing tracks into the desk surface as he muttered under his breath.

“You’re taking me so well, sweetheart. Look at your pussy, taking my cock like a fucking pro, you’re so wet, dripping out onto the desk for me.” Your arousal was coated along the insides of your thighs, his face faltering as your walls tightened around him, curses leaving him. He pushed forward, your hips slapping together harshly as he pushed against that special spot inside of you and stars exploded behind your eyes, a long cry of his name leaving you as you shook.

He rode it out, hands holding you to the desk as he slowed his thrusts, before he found your shoulders, pulling you to sit up for him as he slipped his members form you, your thighs trembling as you sat up, every muscle in your body feeling like jelly. His hands skimmed along under your legs, pulling you until your ass was just barely on the desk and his lips lid over yours, panting and needy kisses being drawn from you and when he stepped closer, the head of his cock pressed up against your clit, your body twitching with sensitivity as you jumped back, yelping at the stimulation.

A dark chuckle left him as he pulled you to your feet, hands cupping your cheeks as his fingers ran over your skin slowly, his eyes hooded as he looked down at you. “We’re not done yet, sweetheart. I thought you said you could handle it?”

Before you even had a chance to reply, the front of your hips were pressed into the wood as he turned you around, a hand in the back of your hair pushing you face down into the desk and you barely had time to catch yourself, your hands fumbling to find the edge of the surface and hold on. His foot between yours kicked your legs apart, and your breasts were rubbing up against the cold surface, the sensation shooting straight to your core and you shook at the way he was handling you.

He dragged the tip of his cock through your folds, sinking forwards with one rough and fast thrust, filling you up again instantly and you cried out, biting down on your lip in pure pleasure as he set a fast pace, the hand in your hair tightening and pulling as he bent over you. Your nails were digging into the wood as your fingers curled around the edges of the desk, holding you for support, and he let his hands find your hips, before one slid around to grope at your ass cheek.

Moans were falling wantonly from your lips as he fucked into you, a sheen of sweat coating your body as you were pushed closer and closer to another climax, your brain going hazy and all you could focus on was the feeling of him ramming into you rapidly, tapping against your g-spot with every thrust as he worked out all his pent up energy. You knew you’d be sore in the morning, you’d be covered in hickies and bruises but it would be worth it because God, if it wasn’t the best you had ever felt.

His hands slipped up to your hair again, tugging at the strands and your scalp stung as he tugged you up until your back met his chest, his hands sliding around the front of your body to roll your nipples between his thumb and index finger. Your head lolled back onto his shoulder as your eyes rolled back in your head, and he bit at your ear lobe gently. “Get ready.”

You couldn’t even process the words, but a scream tore from your lips as he picked up his pace, the aggression showing through with the ferocity of his thrusts, and a scream left your lips, his name mixed with pleads and begs as your whole body shook and spasmed in his grasp, your own name grunted into your ear as you felt him throb within you, cock pulsing and twitching against your walls as he neared you both to a climax you’d never forget.

His hand came up, squeezing around your neck lightly as the other trailed along your body, your screams silenced as he squeezed at your neck, and he slapped your abused bud once, your body hurtling over the edge into wave after wave of pleasure as he fucked you through it, loud shouts leaving him before he suddenly pulled out, your arousal gushing from you, strings of your essence connecting his cock to your glistening hole as he grunted, moaning lowly and shooting cum across your back and legs, the wet sounds of him working over himself sounding out as he came and your knees buckled as you braced yourself on the desk.

Your mind was fuzzy, the aching between your legs and pounding in your heart was all that made sense, and despite it all, you still wanted him, you need him. You could barely clench your thighs for the over-stimulation but the burning in your stomach told you that you needed more, and you heard as he collapsed back against the bed, the fabric of your torn shirt being brushed against your back as he cleaned you up tiredly.

His legs were parted, cock still hard and resting against his stomach as he panted wildly, sweaty with his hair matted to his forehead as he leaned back on his elbows, a shaky laugh leaving him. You could feel your own nectar dripping down your thighs, coating the insides of your legs as your need for him continued to eat away at you and you stood either side of his legs, one hand finding his chest as you leaned over him, the other wrapping around his cock gently, and he hissed. “Fuck, sweetheart, I’m still sen-”

“Still sensitive? Now you know how it feels.” His hips bucked up into your grip, and with you a wink you ran your thumb over the swollen head, swiping away the cum still dribbling there and lifting it to your lips to clean it. Straddling him, you shivered, the shake running along your whole body as the red tip nudged against your throbbing bud, before you sank yourself down onto his cock, the delicious overstimulation and stretching he gave you was already making you call out his name, and he snapped to sit up, hands finding your hips as he whimpered your name to you.

Your hands pushed his chest down, until he was lying in the sheets, your hands landing either side of his head and your knees on either side of his hips as you rocked back into him, and he growled lowly, shaking his head. With feet planted firmly on the floor, he rocked his hips up into yours, the sounds he loved so much leaving you and he repeated the action, your arms weakening at the way he fucked you.

Your vision was blacking out, eyes in the back of your head and your jaw ached as it hung slack, and your body was tingling, muscles aching as they tightened and you wanted to clamp your thighs together, the feeling all too much but at the same time you needed more, and when his hands found your hips, slamming you back down onto his cock in time with his thrusts, you found.

You wouldn't be surprised if the whole camp could hear his name being screamed from your lips at this point, your voice getting higher and higher and you got closer to your edge and his voice was deep and raspy, shouting your name loudly as you clenched around him so tightly he could barely move.

His mouth pressed to yours, and it could barely be described as a kiss. It was a sloppy mess of tongues and lips dragging against each other, panting and crying into each other’s mouths as it all became too much as you fell over the edge, more like catapulted, the feeling different to other times and you jerked roughly in his arms, arousal splashing from you, the dirtiest sound you had ever heard Thomas make leaving him as he screamed. Pulling out of you suddenly, his load coated both of your stomachs between you, your arousal still leaving you as you clung to him, soaking his body and yours, dripping between the sheets.

He let you roll to the side, your eyes still rolled back in your head, a lazy smile on your lips as you twitched and whimpered, and he groaned at the sight, his cum painted across both of your bodies. He wiped a hand over his face, grinning exhaustively and his body ached, but he had never felt better.

You had been right, he was calm and relaxed, his mind was clear and he was happy. He reached for the ragged piece of material that had been your shirt, wiping you both down before tugging his boxers back up his legs, a low groan leaving him as the fabric brushed against his stimulated and sensitive member. Grabbing your panties, he tugged them up your legs gently for you, a soft smile on your lips, eyes shut as he lifted your hips to secure them around your waist, pressing a kiss to your hip bone before collapsing beside you.

You were grinning, eyes closed as you lay in his sheets, the sunlight from the window illuminating you perfectly in all your sweaty, messy, post-sex daze. He could see the disturbed dust dancing in the air, the sounds of your slowing breaths easing him into comfort and he reached out for you, brushing matted hair from your skin and you cracked an eye open to look at him, the other soon following as you turned on your side.

You raised an arm, bending it as your elbow dug into the sheets, your cheek resting on your palm as you looked at him. “How do you feel?”

“Fucking fantastic.” He was beaming, letting himself fall onto his back, letting out a soft sigh before holding his arms out to you. “C’mere. I wan’ hold you.” Without any argument, you snuggled into his embrace, the smell of sweat and sex sticking to his skin, undoubtedly on yours too, but you didn’t care. Instead, you rose your finger sup, weaving them through your knotty hair gently as you let your thoughts run slowly, peace taking over the room.

It was quiet around you, the sounds of everybody moving about further down in the camp just about reaching your ears, muffled by the walls and the distance, but you could still make out happy laughs and yells as the went about. Your mind drifted to the boy who was half-snoozing tiredly beside you, wishing he could let himself be that joyful and carefree, he deserved it.

When you had finished untangling your own hair, you moved to play with his, a content hum leaving him as you did and he nuzzled into you more, his lips pressing little kisses to the exposed skin he could reach when he turned his head towards you more, and you got lost in your mind once again, drifting away as you thought sadly about the map, the plan that kept falling through with errors, as you worked over it in your tired and muddled mind.

“Oh, my God.”

“I know.” He grinned, and you slapped his chest as he leaned over to kiss at you forehead but you shot up, your jaw slack and eyes wide, your mind spinning.

“Oh, my God.” You shot up, slinging the sheets back from your form as you scrambled around in the discarded clothes on the floor.

You pulled your panties and shorts on, grabbing the first top you saw tugging it over your head, not even bothering with your bra or socks as you reprocessed the idea on your mind, spinning around and around on a loop as you tried to find any flaws, but you couldn’t and a smile broke out on your face, the widest Thomas had seen in a long, long time. He propped himself up on his elbows as he watched you, making your way to the door when he cleared his throat, his eyebrows raised as your eyes came to meet his.

You were mumbling, so quickly and quietly he couldn't make out what you were saying but you silenced as you looked at him. “I’ve got it!”

He was only more confused as you left, leaving the door wide open as you dashed quickly towards the main room, screaming out to all the others you saw as you went that ‘you had it’, before he finally realised where you were going and what you were talking about, and he fell from the bed in a bid to follow you hurriedly. By the time Thomas had got there, you were holding Newt’s hands in a bowl shape as you dropped all the little markers into his palms, smoothing out the map and Thomas had his jacket pulled over his bare shoulders, his shirt hanging on your body and he struggled to do up his belt as he stumbled into the room.

Newt looked over him, a smirk on his lips and Thomas blushed as everyone suppressed their snickers and looks, but he was focused on you, and you were far too focused on your eyes moving so quickly over the map he was surprised you weren’t dizzying yourself. “Okay, okay, okay.. so, um, well, we decided we’d have to have someone break into the train, right?”

Everybody was looking at you, nodding carefully as if to ask you exactly where you were planning on going with this, currently only being reminded of their failure.

“Well, let’s just take the whole carriage.” The hopeful looks around the room fell, replaced by irritated glares and your shoulders sagged, but you refused to be deterred by it. Brenda rubbed a hand over her face, sighing, and Vince laughed condescendingly, hands falling to his hips, while Newt looked at you disapprovingly, as though you were joking. “Seriously, just- just hear me out, okay?”

“I’ll listen, pequeña.” Jorge motioned forwards, and you shot him a grateful smile as he took on all the glares simply for encouraging you.

“Right, well correct me if I’m confused, but the very front carriage is the drivers, right? And the one behind it is soldiers and guards? Yeah?” You looked around, watching as they all nodded, and you grinned, looking back to the table and smoothing your hands over the map. “The two behind that are always supplies, for wherever the fuck they’re going. The last three are kids they’ve taken. Minho. Now, the trains are always supported by an airborne guard too, yeah?”

Vince let out a groan at your words, his head dropping forward in frustration and you scowled at his reaction. “Exactly, there are eyes in the sky and on the ground, we can’t get past the berg. This is pointless!”

“No, no! Our eyes in the skies are part of it!” You held your hands up, finally reaching for the items Newt was still patiently holding as you positioned them out before you, placing them perfectly to you’re liking and they all waited, even more confused than before. “Okay, so let's call it Team A, Team B and Team C, right? Team A and B are in cars, on either side of the train, and Team A is going to draw away the berg, because Team B is going to drive along the tracks behind the train and jump on board, they won't shoot at you because they won’t risk losing the kids, they need them!”

You placed down the two small stones you had signifying the cars on either side of your train figure, and Newt nodded, looking down at the map. “Okay, but Team A is now being shot at by the berg, with nowhere to go?”

“There isn’t anywhere to go, and that’s what we need! Lead them into thinking we’re trapped, but we aren’t because hiding out is Team C-” You dragged your finger, across the map, pointing at a random spot and tapping the digit against the paper. “When the berg lands to arrest Team A, guards will come piling out! Team C then comes out and we take it! There’s what, four guards and a pilot, against Team A and C?”

You held up your hands, looking around everyone as they all continued to look at you, confused faces all around as they tried to process your thoughts. “I’m still not seeing how this is helping, what about the train?” You looked up to the blond man, Vince with his eyebrows raised but he was judging and he was curious and you smacked your hand to your forehead, laughing at yourself.

“Oh, right, of course! While team A pulls away the sky threat, B are on the train! We get to the end of the carriages with the kids in and separate them from the rest of the train! The emergency clamps will slow them down almost instantly upon detachment, but the rest of the train will take a good minute to minute and a half to stop, and then the guards have to run all that distance back! That gives us, like, five minutes!” Newt groaned, dropping the pieces in his hand as his patience finally wore away.

“Five minutes? Five minutes to do what? Huh?” His accent was only thicker with his anger, and you swallowed, your confidence dwindling as you became discouraged, almost every person in the room looking at you like you were insane.

“To.. To get Minho, and Aris and Sonya..” Your voice trailed off, and you backed away from the table, your body curling in on itself nervously, but Jorge rubbed a hand over his head, stepping up and putting a hand down flat on the map as he looked over it.

“Hold on, I get it.” He nodded, thinking over as he lifted another one of the discarded parts to rest on the land alongside the train tracks shown on the map. “Find out which cart Minho’s in, weld the brakes on either side. Call it D-Team. Four of you, one on each clamp for the correct carriage, and another four with ropes! Get the box chained up, and by the time A-Team A and C-Team get back with the berg, we drop the hook and lift the box, B and D can just climb on for the ride home.”

“We can have cars waiting for everyone,” Brenda added, stepping forwards and a smile cracked it’s way through your upset look to take over as she spoke up, her eyes meeting yours as she winked at you, softly. “We drop the berg and box, get everyone out and cover our tracks, way before they can track us. Everyone gets back safe.”

Silence filled the room, seemingly for minutes as the three of you now looked around at the others, each one thinking over the incredible complex plan, again and again in their minds as they tried to find the problem, only coming up with obstacles that could be solved but no major fall-throughs.

“Kid, you’re fucking crazy. But you’re also crazy brave, and smart.” Vince eventually muttered, but he reached over, squeezing at your shoulder before crossing his arms, and you laughed, nodding your head slightly in confirmation. “I think it could work. Needs some tweaking, and it needs to be done fast, that train goes by in three days.”

Frypan’s eyes were wide, and he looped his hands behind his head, lacing his fingers as he looked down at the map, shocked. “We’re getting them back. We’re getting out friends back. We’re getting Minho back!”

Newt cheered loudly, holding his hands up in the air and letting out a disbelieving laugh. “We’re getting Minho back!” He moved towards you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he spun you around in a circle, your feet not touching the ground as he held you tightly. When you were placed down, the chatter about fixing any minor issues had already taken up, the group crowding around the small desk with such renewed fervour and enthusiasm that you were shocked at how quickly hope had filled their bodies once again.

Arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back and turning you as Thomas looked down at you, a smile on his face for the first time in months as he held you tightly, lips parting and closing as he tried to work out what to say. “You are incredible!” He teased, and you laughed, ducking your head as a blush worked its way onto your cheeks. “God, I fucking lo-” As he spoke, your head looked up, eyes wide at the words he almost spoke and your heart was pumping wildly in your chest, but he cut himself off, closing his jaw and you felt sadness seep into every pore in your body, despite the joy surrounding you.

Instead, he leaned forward, moving to place a kiss to your lips and you turned your head, his kiss meeting your cheek instead and he grunted, not being the intended place he was aiming for. Your stomach was twisting, nausea filling you at the idea of having been so intimate ad close with someone that couldn’t even tell you they loved you, that perhaps, no longer intended to be that person.

It had been half a year ago that Thomas had told you he wanted to love you again, but in that time he’d barely held you or touched you, and a lot had changed, you had moved on, fought battles you had never imagined and overcome odds you had never seen coming. Perhaps, he no longer wanted what he had wanted then, he’d spent a lot of nights alone, sealed himself away from you to have had enough time to think about it.

As you unwrapped his arms from around your waist, his brows furrowed and you excused yourself from the group with the claims of needing some food before you gave yourself a headache, and you were soon slipping from the door. Before he could come after you, Thomas was called over to the table, and so instead he watched you walk away, not understanding where he had gone wrong.

The sun was just beginning to set, casting oranges over the horizon and you crossed your arms over your chest, feeling exposed and dirty as you made your way back to his room. Picking up your bra, you tucked it into your pocket, stripping his top from your body and folding it, placing it neatly on the end of his bed before zipping your jacket up over your bare chest and snagging the torn fabric of your top from the floor.

You disposed of it along the way to where you had chosen to sleep, plucking a fresh top from a pile of supplies available to anyone, and when you finally closed the door behind you, you dropped your bra onto the small chair in the corner of the room. Toeing off your boots, you tugged the top over your head, dropping the denim around your waist to the floor before crawling under your sheets, a saddened sigh leaving you.

You couldn’t dwell and Thomas and his feelings for you, or lack thereof, because in a few days, you would have Aris and Sonya back in your arms, you would have Minho back, and you would finally be able to rest, because lord knows you’d been through enough in your lifetime. You were ready to hold your friends again, you were ready to find the safe haven, and live out the rest of your days peacefully and quietly.

With a clear mind and a light heart, you were able to drift off with thoughts of where you would be a week from now.

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akaluan · 4 years

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Erich/Kisuke/Alexis: Soulmate AU + Character in Peril Part 11

((Warning for Erich having a pretty visceral panic attack in this one.))

“Sir, I’d like to formally register my complaint about this course of action,” Degurechaff grumbles as she steps into the tent carrying a fourth chair. She sets it down to the right of his chair and then stands behind it, her hands planted on her hips and her gaze flat as she stares up at him. “Everything you’ve told me about his people makes me think he’s bad news and this is just going turn into more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Noted, Colonel,” Erich agrees absently, hand already wrapped around his right wrist as he assesses his soulmate’s emotions. Loyalty still echoes through their connection, deep and abiding and almost desperate, so powerful is the feeling; it makes his stomach twist and his mouth go dry because no one should feel like that about him.

(He has no problem with loyalty, but this… this is the sort of loyalty that makes men blind.)

(This is the sort of loyalty that a man adrift and clinging to hope feels.)

(How did he miss that edge of desperation for so long…?)

Worse, the tenor of the rest of his emotions has changed as well; the man is no longer reassurance-trust-loyalty but instead resignation-acceptance-loyalty and the change is a sour reminder of everything that’s gone wrong between them.

(He never wanted this…)

(Soulmates are supposed to be everything right with the world, not… not this…)

Alexis’ hand settles on his shoulder, love-confidence-trust draping across his mind like a blanket, and he nods his thanks.

(Now is not the time to dwell.)

Erich rolls his shoulders and focuses on his breathing for a moment, letting his mind relax into a near-meditative state before he focuses on need-want-come here and lets the emotions build, lets himself focus on his second soulmate and press those emotions into their connection.

Shock-surprise-tentative hope spikes through their connection, making him exchange concerned looks with Alexis; they had been harsh but… had they truly made the man feel like they’d never ask him to return?

(Had they truly made him feel like they were rejecting him out of hand?)

This time, the man appears at the entrance of the tent instead of in the middle, shoulders hunched and rounded like he expects to be immediately attacked and—

Erich breathes a sigh and tugs at the cuffs of his shirt, meeting and holding the man’s gaze as he lets his emotions settle back into a baseline.

(What color even are his soulmate’s eyes…?)

(They’re so pale!)

“Well this is certainly an interesting welcome!” the man says with a level of forced cheer that Erich can feel grating across his senses like nails on a chalkboard. “Good evening, everyone!”

Degurechaff huffs and mutters something uncomplimentary under her breath that Erich pretends to miss, then gestures towards the seat in front of Erich’s desk and says, “Please, sit. General Rerugen and his wife have invited you here to speak on your connection and how the three of you will move forward from here.”

The Reaper slowly crosses the tent, his gaze moving between Erich and Alexis, clearly drinking in the sight of them. “Maa, I thought you had already decided…?”

“We haven’t,” Erich says carefully, his pronunciation better after a few hours of practice with Degurechaff but by no means perfect. At least he isn’t making either of the native speakers wince now, which is progress. “We would… like to have some answers, first. And… a name. None of us have been introduced to the other yet.”

The Reaper freezes, shock-hope-wonder unfurling through their connection before it’s just as quickly bottled away and the man flashes a cheerful smile at them. “Urahara Kisuke at your service!” he announces as he comes to stand behind the chair Degurechaff gestured him towards. “And you two beautiful people would be…?”

Erich resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, exasperated by the terrible flirting. “He’s trying to flirt,” he says out loud when Alexis makes a questioning noise.

“Poorly,” Degurchaff adds in annoyance, then tilts her head to look up at him and says, “Remember, sir, family name first, then personal. And leave out the von. It… doesn’t translate very well.”

“Thank you, Colonel.” He remembers the conventions well enough, but a reminder is certainly not amiss given how long it’s been for him. “I am Rerugen Erich and this is my wife and our other soulmate, Rerugen Alexis,” he informs Urahara, deciding to not address the attempt at flirting.

(If he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t encourage the man, it will stop, right?)

(…right…?)

“A pleasure to meet you properly, Rerugen-san,” Urahara says as he leans over the back of the camp chair, a sly little smirk on his face and his eyes gleaming bright and—

It’s real, but it’s also a mask, a performance meant to do something that Erich can’t quite grasp; entice, maybe, or perhaps distract him from the uncertainty underlying everything Urahara does.

(And if that doesn’t support the idea of ‘on his own for the first time in his life’ he isn’t sure what would.)

Degurechaff makes a rude noise. “Sit down so we can talk like civilized people,” she orders, then grimaces and adds, “And stop trying to flirt with my commander, I’ve heard smoother lines out of my men when they were drunk.”

Erich swallows his laughter and tries to give Degurechaff the stern look her comment deserves; she’s technically being rude to the soulmate of her superior officer, but… he really can’t find it in him to care. After all the stress Urahara has put him through, the man can deal with Degurechaff’s sharp tongue for a while.

“It’s true, sir,” she says dryly. “My condolences on your luck, it seems your second soulmate has no taste in clothing or in pickup lines.”

Alexis covers her mouth with a hand, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter that only becomes stronger when Erich shoots her an exasperated look.

(Of course she would get along with Degurechaff.)

(He’s almost terrified to see what the two will accomplish together.)

Urahara huffs at their laughter and drops to sit in the chair, slouching forward enough that his robe-like top slips open, exposing more of his chest that Erich expected to see. His hands clasp together and settle over a knee, his smile flashing wicked-teasing-gleeful as he catches the direction of Erich’s stare, but there’s something… wrong. Something on the edge of Erich’s memory that he just can’t quite place…

He frowns at Urahara and pulls his gaze away from the man’s chest. Sweeps it slowly over the man as a whole, cataloging, analyzing, understanding—

It hits him like lightning.

He’s seen men like this before.

Scruffy. Unkempt. Limp hair and clothing loose, a bright smile that says don’t look-don’t notice-I’m fine-I’m fine-I’m fine…

(Well, why had he expected any different?)

“Erich?” Alexis asks, leaning into his side and slotting their fingers together to press their soulmarks closer together. Understanding-sadness-determination, she sends, having already pieced together the same clues as him.

He squeezes her hand in reassurance and takes his seat, pulling her down into the chair next to him. There’s nothing either of them can do for Urahara, no magic solution that will just fix things, but they can at least listen and try to think instead of react.

With that in mind, Erich fixes his attention on Urahara and says, “You have said that you’re no longer a Shinigami. Explain.”

“Ahahahaha, well, I was framed? And then exiled. And now I’m here!”

He sighs — why did he ever expect this to be easy? — and listens with half an ear as Degurechaff translates their words for Alexis. “Details, please,” he tells Urahara dryly. “You know my reservations about your people already. If your situation is going to bring danger to my family and those I’ve sworn to protect—”

“No, no, it shouldn’t! Or… well… I don’t think so?” Urahara frowns, gaze drifting aside. “It shouldn’t,” he repeats in a thoughtful murmur. “I’m discredited and out of his way and no one will listen to my words, not after what he framed me for… and if they didn’t come after me already I… doubt anything will happen in the future…”

Degurechaff makes a soft noise of annoyance and leans forward, her voice coldly professional as she asks, “What were you framed for?”

Urahara startles at her words. Stares at her. Darts his gaze to Erich almost pleadingly and… swallows when Erich just nods.

(He has to know.)

(He wishes they could go easier on Urahara, but…)

(They need to understand.)

“For illegal experimentation on Shinigami Captains and Lieutenants and causing the Hollowfication of said officers,” Urahara recites, expression blank and voice flat.

Alexis’ fingers tighten around his hand, dragging him from his thoughts with sharp jabs of impatience-annoyance-waiting. He gives her a sheepish smile and quickly catches her up, stumbling over the unfamiliar word that he doesn’t quite understand how to translate. Hollowfication is nothing he’s ever come across before, but it sounds… ominous.

He sends Degurechaff a questioning glance, wondering if she’d heard it before, and she shakes her head, her lips a thin line and her spine rigid.

(She might not have heard the word before, but everything about her posture tells Erich she has a suspicion.)

(And that her suspicion is nothing good.)

“Hollowfication, explain this word,” Degurechaff says as Erich settles back, letting her take the lead on questioning Urahara.

It gives him a chance to focus better, a chance to read the man in front of them without interruptions…

(A chance to do exactly what he teased Alexis about before.)

Threads of power slip beyond his skin and then twist back and in, weaving deep-deep-deep into his soulmark and reaching out, reaching through until Urahara’s emotions settle across Erich’s senses like a weight, bright-burning-consuming despite — because of? — the way they’ve been suppressed.

(A constellation — a galaxy — with no anchor and no direction, twisting-tangling-mutating without end but always-always-always returning to despair-hope-loyalty-nerves-guilt.)

(He drowns.)

(He burns.)

(He accepts-parses-learns until he knows, until he can sort himself from Urahara and finally breathe—)

“My fool of a husband,” Alexis whispers in his ear as she presses a kiss to his cheek. “Some risks are not worth the taking, love…”

“Ah… uhm…” Urahara’s fingers twitch once before stilling, his knuckles bleaching white as he darts a wary glance at Erich. There’s something like curiosity in the man’s gaze, his interest spiking as he senses something of what Erich’s done. “It’s… the removal of the boundary between Shinigami and Hollow, for purposes of strengthening the soul beyond previous limits.”

The breath catches in Erich’s throat, Urahara’s guilt-failure-fury beating like bird-wings against his mind, and he tries to think, tries to process, but he feels numb, feels lost at the idea of Reapers capable of forcing someone to become a Hollow—

(To become unmade…!)

Degurechaff translates Urahara’s words, and Alexis’ grip tightens on his hand but—

There’s a buzzing in his ears and his mouth tastes like cotton. His back aches with remembered agony, three lines of fire down his back, claw-marks from a Hollow that he’ll never forget, never escape—

(Acid in his veins, eating-eating-eating at his very Self—)

Concern lances through his mind. Jars him abruptly from the sense-memory. Leaves him cold-disoriented-uneasy as he struggles to understand, struggles to clear the jagged edges from his mind, struggles to settle back into his whole-unbroken-uninjured skin.

He straightens. Stares across his desk at Urahara. Fumbles for something, anything to say and… can’t.

Alexis’ grip is almost bruising as she lifts his hand and presses it to her chest, her own concern-strength-calm a balm to the scattered fragments of his control. She takes a breath, deep and steady, and he swallows. Forces himself to match her. Tries to pull her steadiness into himself.

(Gods, he’s a mess.)

(Between the Hollows and the War and now this…)

(He just… wants to go home!)

“I didn’t do it,” Urahara says carefully, insistently, leaning forward with his hands clasped tight. “My own Lieutenant was there. I… I couldn’t convince anyone—I had a bad feeling. Something was wrong and no one would listen to my words… so I went with one of my close friends.” He swallows and looks down, shoulders hunching in as his hair falls across his face. “We found them already in the process of Hollowfication, losing their minds from the change, and… we found him there as well.

“We tried to stop him and his minions, but they escaped,” Urahara continues, rage-hate-guilt simmering through their connection. “Which… left us with either trying to save the others or trying to catch Aizen. I… I thought I’d have more time. Thought I’d be able to get people to believe my word, so… so my friend put the others into stasis and transported us back to the Twelfth Division, where I had my equipment. It… it was a chance with poor odds, but I could potentially fix it but… but I couldn’t. I couldn’t. All I did was stabilize their hybrid state and it took everything I had to do that, and then…”

“Then you got caught,” Erich finishes for him as Degurechaff translates his words for Alexis. He’s… not entirely certain he believes Urahara, not yet, not fully, but… everything he senses from the man leads him to believe that it might be true.

(If that’s the case… no wonder the man is so desperate.)

(And all that guilt… does Urahara believe it’s all his fault, or is it the guilt of a liar…)

(He can’t tell.)

“Then we got caught,” Urahara agrees with a grimace, reaching up to brush his hair back in order. “I don’t… know how much detail you know about Shinigami, but our blades are unique, giving each of us a different set of abilities. His power…” he hesitates, clenches his jaw, breathes out. “His power, I later learned, is unbreakable illusions.”

Degurechaff snorts. “Of course it is,” she growls, rolling her eyes in exasperation. “Sir, it’s highly likely that this is just a sob story to win you over. We can’t verify any of this even if we wanted to, and if he’s right about it, we’re not going to get a straight answer from anyone.”

Erich rubs his right wrist against his thigh, trying to ignore the way his fingers are still trembling in reaction. Everything he senses from Urahara makes him want to believe the man, but… Degurechaff is right. Everything he can sense can also be attributed to other things; guilt from lying, rage and hate at this ‘Aizen’ for exposing him, failure from screwing up his plans…

“I know,” he tells her absently. Clenches his right hand into a fist. Weighs hope against fear against betrayal and… “But where do we draw the line? If we refuse to even listen, refuse to give him a chance, are we protecting ourselves or are we turning our backs on an innocent man?” He wants to believe Urahara, wants to trust him despite everything that’s happened.

(His instincts tell him Urahara is being truthful.)

(Tell him that he should trust—)

(Can’t trust himself because the only other time his objectivity failed was with Degurechaff and…)

(He trusts her now, doesn’t he?)

“We said we’d give him a chance,” Alexis says thoughtfully, her thumb running back and forth across his hand. “Nothing he’s told us changes anything, I don’t think. Not for me at least. We’ll need to keep an eye out, but we needed to do that anyway.”

Degurechaff gives both of them a flat, exasperated look, then sighs and shakes her head. “Fine. I can see you’ve made up your minds.”

“We have,” Alexis agrees after a brief glance at Erich. “Please inform him that we will talk more in the morning to work out an agreement between us, but that I think we all need some time to gather ourselves.”

Degurechaff’s eye twitches a bit, but she inclines her head and dutifully translates Alexis’ words.

Urahara sags a bit but… Erich can still sense hope-wonder-loyalty from the man so… he certainly isn’t taking the dismissal as hard as he could. In fact, the look he sends Erich is almost pure concern, mixed with a touch of understanding.

(Urahara might not understand why, but he seems to understand the what at least.)

(That’s… something.)

“Should I wait for your call?” Urahara asks flippantly as he rises from his seat, hands carefully tucked behind his back.

Erich hesitates, then carefully reaches down and frees his pocket watch to toss at the man. “At eight in the morning. And don’t lose that.”

Degurechaff huffs a sigh and rises to her feet, moving to stand next to Urahara. “I’ll escort you out,” she says gravely, gaze almost daring the man to disappear like before.

“Ahahaha… that’s not necessary!” Urahara says as he almost reverently tucks Erich’s watch away, eyes gleaming with something that Erich can’t quite parse. “I know my way out—”

“Please, I insist,” Degurechaff repeats with cold formality, and it’s enough to get the man moving. They walk out of the tent together, Urahara sending him one last, lingering glance and—

Erich slumps again Alexis’ side as soon as the tent flap closes behind him. His body is trembling.

(He’s so tired…)

“Come to bed, my love,” Alexis murmurs as she coaxes him up, supporting him as his legs nearly give out. They cross the handful of steps to his cot and she lowers him down, kneels to unlace his boots…

He stares down at her, mind blank and body trembling now that he doesn’t have to pretend, doesn’t have to hold himself together, doesn’t have to think or decide or process anything except this simple, quiet moment. Her hands are gentle as she pulls his boots and socks from his feet. Gentle as she reaches up to unbutton his shirt. Gentle as she slips it off and takes his glasses and tugs his undershirt over his head—

(This is… he doesn’t usually… undress this much at camp but…)

Alexis nudges him down, lays him out so he’s resting on his stomach and runs warm-calloused-careful hands down his back and over his scars, spiritual power slipping into his body and—

The lingering memory of agony dims under her strength. Fades, quenched by the cool water-smooth stone-soft moss sensation of her power beneath his skin.

He breathes out.

Relaxes.

Sleeps.

#soulmate au #i liiiiive #sorta #anyway have a segment where people start talking and then Erich has another panic attack #cw: panic attack #panic attacks

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captain-aralias · 4 years

Photo

Creators: give a “behind the scenes” look at one of your works. This could be things that got removed or changed, the origins of ideas/details, whatever you like!

oh hey - it’s trivia tuesday already (i guess it’s been a long two days back at work this week). i know everyone is still working their way through the remixes that are finished and posted - and i say, do this! some cracking stuff. i’m over half way through now, and i want to write up some thoughts about how these 26 stories approached remix - because it’s super inventive. i think people benefited from not being familiar with the format.

but i also wanted to share my thinking around why i picked the fic to remix that i did - and what else i was considering from @bazzybelle‘s ficlist, because i think the thought process around remix is interesting. AND i wanted to show you the 500 words i wrote almost immediately of a completely different remix that i definitely won’t finish. it would have been... a publishing AU, fake relationship with too-early-in-the-relationship sex. all good things in a fic, right?

so - read on for deleted scenes, and discussion of thought process. and don’t read on, if that’s not your jam.

(in general remember - i’m keen to leave stuff in the original that’s good, rather than just thieve everything. so that’s my thought process here.)

first idea:

I Just Want Your Extra Time And Your .....

(texting, sex chat). i already really liked this fic, and i have IRL experience of working in publishing (which you’ll see to some extent in the fic - i worked very near people who worked on celebrity cookbooks, which is what baz works on in the fic) (the launch party is not revealed to be at the groucho club in the bit i wrote, but would have been - and i’ve been there/i know soho, so ... that was all appealing)

my idea was: the original is a text fic, mine isn’t, although they still only know each other through the sex chat set-up. so instead of simon and baz having text-sex (as in the fic), baz asks simon [who he's never met] to come and be his fake date at a publishing launch party where he sees lamb, his former boyfriend.

the trigger for simon and baz progressing with their relationship/having sex (Because they were going to have sex but IRL) would be the same - baz seeing lamb and freaking out. and some of the texts would be literally copied and pasted in my fic as backstory.

here were my original notes:

in the original fic there's a bit where baz sees lamb, his ex boyfriend, and then is like - hey, simon distract me and they have phone sex

my fic will essentially start there - baz is at a launch party for one of his books, lamb is there - dating the author. it is awful. baz wants to leave, but can't. also, it's time for the text slot with simon - he goes and hides in a cloakroom

and is texting simon, it's terrible - i am so drunk and it's still terrible. and i think simon offers (rather than baz asks) to come and pretend to be his boyfriend

for some sort of plausible denial reason like baz will text him a lot over hte next few days so he'll get a lot of extra money or some shit, but also because simon thinks lamb is a dick even through teh messages

simon shows up - they both drink a lot. they like each other, simon punches lamb (probably). baz asks if he can take simon to a restaurant, they talk more - they kiss. they go back to a hotel together. they discuss whether or not this means that simon is a prostitute (no). they have sex IRL

baz wakes up - and leaves immediately, obviously.

they text again the next day - it's awkward. simon thinks about how he could track baz down if he wanted to - but he feels like baz doesn't want him to, so he doesn't

simon gets out of his horrible job - baz probably tries to get in touch with him, but can't because he's gone. simon gets a message from baz ....... this is still to be determined

anyway - i will probably steal the meet cute in the elevator, it's nice.

why i stopped writing it:

i knew it was going to take ages to write - i didn’t have the time or brainspace to write 20k of fic. i’d assumed going in that i could lean on the original fic to provide the meetcute, but realised that since it was an AU, i still needed to sell the relationship - particularly given that they were meeting in real life for the first time in my fic.

also, it would have been my first mundane AU for the fandom, and my first thing where they weren’t enemies first. (so i was trying to think about how i could get them not to like each other a bit WHILE STILL doing fake dating - and it was throwing me off). it was all just too much.

everything i’ve written is pasted for you at the bottom.

other ideas:

a month passed. i didn’t write any more on my original remix, but went back to greener grass instead. i sent out the month warning email to remixees and thought - i am not going to finish this fic.

so, i went back to the list of bazzybelle’s fic and thought what can i write that i can definitely write in a month?

1. You're F***in' Perfect to Me - daphne POV

i thought, i could write this from malcolm's POV. in the fic daphne talks a lot about how she and malcolm are just friends, rather than true love, and it's baz she has real (motherly) feelings for, not malcolm. so i thought i could write 'the courtship of mrs grimm' where malcolm gets a wake-up call from this argument, and thinks, i actually do love daphne but she likes my son more than me. he's been hiding behind not wanting to sully natasha's memory, etc, etc. fiona would probably be in it.

2. bat baz

i also had a bit of a naff idea where instead of baz turning into a bat, in bat baz, he would turn into bat man...

(interestingly one of the remixes was about baz turning into a cat)

3. If I Fell In Love With You - which i eventually chose

i took the dancing and the music, the set up, and the theme of communication - also some dialogue. pushed some of the focus onto baz’s relationship with niall, pushed the action back in time towards wayward son, added a truth spell (based on a spell in the original) to force communication.

i think this is one of the most interesting remixes i’ve ever done, btw. i’m really pleased with my take on it.

i chose this to remix because i thought - it’s only a few scenes, rather than a whole get-together arc, and it felt achievable in the timespan. i also had a strong idea about what i could do that was different - the relationship with niall and the spell, and what i would leave for people to discover in the original (simon’s POV - including the warmth he feels when baz cooks for him, the two of the resolving the initial fight when simon comes home in a bad mood).

the title is a combination of - another line from ‘if i fell’ but one that is about not talking to each other/not putting yourself out there... and ‘where words fail’ - which is the spell i used, and also picks up on what baz says to niall - that telling simon wasn’t enough. even if he’d had the right words, they wouldn’t have been believable. but - through the music/magic, they were able to communicate.

i also considered using a line from ‘into my arms’ instead (I believe in some kind of path), since that was the song that the magic is cast on - but it didn’t work as well thematically.

here’s the fic i wrote: Don’t Run and Hide (The ‘Where Words Fail’ Remix’)

and here’s the remix i didn’t write. i think i almost wanted to finish it just for the elvis gag. alas, alas.

I Just Want your Extra Time: remix, not written

BAZ

I don’t smoke as much as my father thinks I do. And I don’t drink – not usually. This evening, though, I’ve already had several glasses of champagne and I’m on my fourth cigarette, the second this smoke break. Because it’s that or go back inside. And I definitely don’t want to go back inside.

I should have known he’d be here.

Not that he was invited. Not that he’s on the guest list. Not that there’s any reason at all, in fact, for him to be here, except that my life is an absolute disaster. Today definitely not an exception.

If anything, it’s worse than usual. I thought I’d already hit bottom when Dev told me I had to ring our printers – in China – and get them to promise to ship one of our new titles three weeks early, as some idiot had sent the press release out with the wrong date. That was excruciating, but things seemed to be improving.

It’s a launch party night. I’m not sure why, but I always look forward to them, even though I hate crowds. (Niall would probably say, other people in general. And he wouldn’t be far wrong.)

But I get to wear a suit. (Tonight’s is Spencer Hart. Dark grey. Green tie.) And I know Snow is going to text after the first hour. And even though no one ever remembers to thank the editor – not unprompted, anyway – I do enjoy the satisfaction of knowing that I’m responsible for turning whatever dross we’ve been told to sell into something that could loosely be called a book.

This one is a cookbook by an actor (not a chef, in other words. I had to hire someone else to write the recipes and then we just photographed him next to the result.) It should be a triumph. It is – we’ve already sold several thousand copies. I should be enjoying myself. But then I heard a voice next to my ear.

“Baz.” And someone put a hand on my waist. “Don’t you look rosy?”

Not someone. Lambert. (I never called him Francois, even when we were intimate.) As irritatingly handsome as ever. And just as confident I’ll do whatever he wants.

I haven’t seen him for months. Not since he left me Las Vegas to go off with one of the better-looking Elvis impersonators. (And if that isn’t the most humiliating break-up story you’ve ever heard, then I really don’t want to know what is. Dumped. And for Elvis.) (Not even the real Elvis - not that it makes a difference.)

“I hoped I’d see you here,” he – Lambert – told me. “It’s been far too long.”

“Since you left me.”

He gave me a hurt look. “Baz. We said Auf Wiedersehen, not goodbye.”

“Who are you really here with?”

The author, of course. I watched their eyes meet across the room and Lambert smiling, before he told me it wasn’t serious. And that he’d be interested in taking me to dinner.

“Unless you’re seeing someone?”

I raised an eyebrow – even though I know Lambert knows I only do that when I can’t think of anything to say. Which means he probably knows the truth, which is that there isn’t anyone else. Not anyone else real, anyway.

Which reminds me …

I check my watch – it’s later than I thought.

#carry on #remix

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404fmdhaon · 3 years

Text

creative claims verification — middle fingers up

summary: lyrics, composition and production for middle fingers up warnings: none wc: 1903 (not counting lyrics)

when he started music, it was only a fruitful thought. one that was wary with the times of boom bap saturated in the east coast — boarding school times, and he almost crafts himself a small wicked smile. nostalgia that pains his bones when he’s thinking to the shitty small room he was subjugated to, the speakers of his laptop bound to the sounds of biggie.

but he’s no biggie nor is he the second-coming of asap. he’s just haon, the sell-out from the sea of idoldom that’s got him whole. and where he’s alive becomes the sudden patterns of how music changes from one woe to the next — boom bap into trap, and he laughs at the incredulity of stepping into trap.

an explorer, a sole wanderer. he traps himself in the middle of the keys, pounding away one by one. they paint the picture to the time where he was nothing more than thirteen on the verge of puberty inside hannam-dong.

he starts with the progression of a chord, nothing too flashy nor showy. never been part of him when he’s only been a part of modesty and sulking behind the shadows of attention. it rises like the childhood keys, stripped away from the classical touches of beethoven and into the formative years of who he is now.

the first few regressions of the chord don’t sit easy. instead, they end the way they always do — the slams of his palms into a fucked up mash of notes he doesn’t know what to do with. he closes his eyes, and starts from base one, the one he’s always known. staccatos, and now he only rolls with the punches of what comes when he’s half dazed from sleep and his eyes bloodshot with the lack of sleep he doesn’t have.

and when he’s on what feels the hundredth time of something different, he lets it sit. plays it back — maybe it’s the lack of sleep or maybe it’s just the low standardization he’s fixed himself to, it clicks. seeps deep into the cracks of his soul where nothing soothes the deepened wounds that get buried under years upon year. imperfection, and it’s nothing short. nothing half-assed by the time he tries again and again. the last cut makes it, and he leaves the piano to something else — the instruments that don’t fail him when hands are against the tufts of hair balled up amidst frustration.

it sounds mismatched, mangled. (he doesn’t care.)

and he moves to percussion, the process that’s always been the status quo from one move to the next. there’s a charming point in trap, and he doesn’t fit the bill, slotting creativity into place when there’s the baseline of drums involved.

his foot taps against the ground, confused in the off-match haze of differing rhythms. rather, he fixes himself with another swig of the iced coffee now melted in the corner of his desk — the brass adding another color to the track void of any lyrics.

and he thinks to the time where he’s been the artist without any words. without any restraints freeing the built up frustration and animosity inside his soul — now, it’s only the beats of the piano mangled with the percussion hitting every other beat. but it doesn’t last long, no. not when he takes the latter part of the track and puzzles it to something new. revs up the drums for a hit of a party, something that breeds the excitement he no longer has.

he takes a listen, a playback — it sounds rudimentary at best. nothing complex until the bass hits, but some sort of charm escapes between each strike of chord, and leaves it ringing loudly inside the surface of his heart. his lips quirk back into a smile: minute satisfaction, and he collects it.

when inspiration strikes him in the middle of the fervor, he takes it. runs with it, and make does with what he can (sometimes it doesn’t last long, and it leaves his mind barren without time to collect the pieces once more. savor it while you can.)

what he starts off is the beginnings of a song, one he mismatches to the current state of affairs. because now, the mantra is clear: middle fingers up.

the first three words sprawl across the page, and he capitalizes it. makes it bold. loud and clear as the blueprint to navigate each and every lapse of time that passes. instructions, he wants to send out to the world plagued by second-hand guesses, and the constant battering of what others think — they should stop, and so should he.

he adds in the jingle, humming to the tune the playful childhood fable-esque melody. it’s morbid at best, the juxtaposition of the lighthearted tune ridden by the resenting animosity he hangs to his chest. the feeling never goes away, no. not when he wishes for it, turning and tossing inside late night sleeplessness. there’s no sleep in seoul, so be it.

middle fingers up thumb, index finger, ring finger, pinky fold them and lift your middle finger up raise it, twirl it, play with them now just eat this, fucking eat it.

what his mind jumps to next, all tongue-and-cheek spurred by the sudden enjoyment that music sparks in him. god, when was this feeling last felt? he couldn’t tell you. all that he knows is that euphoric highs from the fun of writing a verse becomes insurmountable to any fleeting joy of here and there. the affairs of the company — shit. the affairs of his own personal life — shit. business comes in brushed shoulders, mediocre handshakes in coy smiles yearning for a hidden meaning. gyujeong tries to decipher each one as a sham, name-calling to yank their strings into place for a climb up the ladder of the fame that trails eight years and counting.

the conversation becomes a humorous one — painted in cheap laughs and even cheaper innuendos. get the number, and call it a roadmap for the tempest tides for five minutes of famed. gyujeong makes his answer clear: why? he’s never been second-dipped inside the tides pulling him from one hot name to the next, his name clear in the headlines only fuel to add onto the taste of an image bc’s crafted for him. laughter. it spills from his lips.

what did you just say kid? we’ve met before, you say what — no we haven’t. i’m close with your friend. so what? you ask, can you give me your number so we can have a drink together sometime? but why should i give you my number? who the hell are you?

he doesn’t know them, they don’t know him. the feeling’s not mutual, shit if it’s ever been. it’d be a lie, and his lips tainted with poison if he gives in to the facades of each soul that wants to reap the benefits without climbing down the wayward journey all the way up — nothing’s all the way up. not then, not now. (has it ever been?)

collective thoughts and privacy becomes uncertain, rare. something treasured and pocketed away to the confines of his own bare bones. he craves one thing: anonymity. that sort of shit becomes priceless halfway through an aged careers — his private matters stowed away, picking up the specks as time passes for he’s never begged for more. the circle around shrinks as the years go, half-hearted smiles burned to the ground as he loses more and more of the dignity scraped away by the schedules and people he’s brushed shoulders with.

he likes it that way. likes two real friends rather than a cesspool of empty hearts and laughs that bear nothing more than the coins clinking into their bank — no more drama. no more stories. no more shit to put up with when he doesn’t become the victim of everyone’s embittered war.

talk, alarms, lock, sns are all on private my ever-shrinking personal and social relations it ain’t nothing. no more meet-ups with people, no more stories no more drama, just straight to the last episode

and if they want to catch him, they better while they can. he’s sure to slide past the void of their fingers clasped against each other and chung gyujeong stands from the other side in a cocked grin waiting at the top with the answer to their question he can’t give them an answer to. then again, when has he ever conveyed an answer to their dead-end questions, nor spared any time to give in to the temporary pains of a broken timepiece. genuineness is lost in the world — lost when he’s tethered to bc.

follow me until you reach the climax what’s real? what’s fake? i don’t know.

the fingers type away the verse — he makes note of a few things (repeat the chorus, italics of the chorus. the references, flipped and mashed back together for a coy play on words.) trust the creative process, and he’s floating along on the surface. tides turn into ripples, and suddenly — he’s left grinning ear to ear, smiling away with the middle fingers up.

when he returns to the studio, it’s the same way he’s left it. the bucket of laundry loaded in a corner, growing higher and higher by the day. the emptied out plastic cups, all lined perfectly across his desk with the screen blinking and the sounds of the desktop still running on edge with his lapse in judgement to shut it off the few days prior.

today, he has help — no big help, just the trusted staff in the room as his fingers motion forth to enter the dungeon he’s been subjected to for the past few years. gyujeong motions once more: take a seat, make yourself feel at home. it’s written in silent gestures, and he steps forward to the recording booth with his headphones sliding over his ears (this feels comforting, like second=nature.)

the staff involved today serves no input, no help. no standardized comment of what sells nor what’s written in the outlines of bc’s expectations. instead, it’s another set of hands — another set of fingers to press buttons when he knows the booth provides the pristine sound he wants to collect for the alibi of the song. a crystal clear voice, no longer stumped by the background noise fiddling out from the lack of soundproofing. here, he’s able to relay the lullaby he writes for the masses encroaching deeper into dangerous territory.

it starts with the chorus, the starting of the song. his hand waves past the recording glass, signaling the start of recording as the beat plays in the background — his phone’s already snug in the other, posed in front of him with the lyrics loud and clear.

and it’s his voice that relays the rest. gritty, slurred. no real pronunciation when it poses itself as a near whine — nearly flirtatious it takes when he hears the playback. (he guesses, it’s the effect of having fun with music again). there’s no idea how this will progress, no expectations then again. so, he continues on when the beat plays and he starts the verses — it toys. plays into the push-pull of lilting his voice in a mediocre taunt.

an ode, disguised as a taunt. or flipped and reversed, he still doesn’t know.

still doesn’t get it by the time he’s back after a full-stomach, leaning back into his chair. no more clicks nor a staff to help, it’s him against the computer screen pulling and yanking different filters with the snaps of the mouse. the vocal stabilizes, little need to refine and tune the voice into key. he adds in extra embellishments, things he’d never use as a play into the new break. when has he become the nomad adventuring out into unknown territory? he couldn’t tell you, only knows the high-tide fun that comes from horns and alterations buzzing out the verses then into the chorus. the movement, and piecing together of a complete piece.

here, there’s no missing pieces. just a full track that checks off satisfaction.

#fmdverification

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ajokeformur-ray · 4 years

Note

Hello! I saw that your request is open for today and I love your works! I want a matchup please! I'm a 4"11, plus sized woman, I love to draw characters. I am an introvert, I rarely go outside unless it's for food or just supplies in general and work. I have a hard time speaking or initiate conversation for strangers but once I'm open up with them, I tend to speak a lot. I hope these are enough for a matchup! Don't stress yourself too much!

Hi, darling!💖 Thank you, that’s plenty of info. for a matchup, I hope that you enjoy this! I’ve had this for a while lmao thank you for being patient with me!💛

Total wc: 1, 363.

Arthur // wc: 710.

There is a nine inch height difference between yourself and Arthur and this means that he is very protective of you. It’s not that your smaller height means that you are weak in Arthur’s eyes, but the way that your head comes just below his shoulder means that Arthur can perfectly fold himself over your body and protect you. It only fuels his learnt narcissistic tendencies and he feels like he is of some use to the world so long as he has you, his one and only person who understands him. You are plus sized and Arthur adores every single inch of you. He would never allow anyone, including you, to make a negative comment about anything about you. You are perfect and Arthur wouldn’t want you any other way. You love to draw characters and you’re very creative and dedicated to your craft and Arthur loves to watch you get lost within your own mind. When you watch The Murray Franklin Show together, Arthur likes to write in his journal while you draw and in this way do you spend time together separately. Arthur cherishes this time with you and every evening helps him to find the courage to get through his next day, for never can he catch a break; for never does he get reprieve. You are his safe haven in a cold dark world. You are his purpose.

You are an introvert and you spend most of your time indoors unless you have errands to run or you have to go to work. Arthur is much the same, although he likes to go down to Pogo’s Club once a week, especially during the weekend when the crowds are full and the drinks aplenty. People are more charitable and the comedy is more relaxed. Arthur finds it easier to make observations and to make notes in these conditions. He often comes home excited, though exhausted, by his evening and he loves to share his findings with you. Your opinions are important to Arthur and if you do not find it funny then he will frown and scribble out the observation. If it isn’t funny to you then it isn’t a joke that he wants to tell. Over the weeks and months of your relationship, Arthur’s sense of humour and his comedy gets tailored to your own; if you find it funny, then Arthur beams so brilliantly that you can see his cute little crooked tooth, his crow’s eyes deepening and showing every line of his weathered face. Spending quiet evenings with you is Arthur’s ideal break from his unrelenting reality and the moment the front door of apartment 8J closes and the safety chain is drawn across the door, his attention is only on you and that is where it stays until at last does he go to bed with you, his one and only person.

It wasn’t easy for the two of you to even become friends. You have a hard time initiating conversation with people that you don’t know and Arthur is shy, but he saw you in a cafe window talking animatedly with someone that you know. The way that your eyes lit up as you spoke filled Arthur with courage which was not wholly his (though soon would he step into his real self in a violent and destructive way which never failed to break your heart when you stopped to think about it), and he was able to approach you. As the weeks and months progressed, the two of you grew ever closer and soon after wondered however he had gotten on without you before. He had been deprived and neglected of love for almost thirty-six years but he would go through all of it again if he was going to find you at the end of all of it. Arthur loves you for you and he would never have you any other way. You are his one and only person who understands him and he will be forever grateful for your presence in the world as in his life. Love is no cure and it can’t fix people but it makes it easier to deal with life and all its challenges; the good and the bad and everything in between.

Joker // wc: 653.

Joker adores you. He is completely head over heels for you and he loves you so much. You are one and only person, his light in the dark, his love, his life, his reason. There is a nine inch height difference between the two of you and Joker loves to tease you about it. He loves nothing more than to pull you into his crimson clad arms and to rest his chin either on the crown of your head or to tuck his face into the warm crook of your neck if he needs more comforting. You are plus sized and Joker is horrifically malnourished. This stark contrast between your body types only proves to Joker that you are perfect for each other. He likes to think that you both slot together like puzzle pieces, though he dares not to voice this to you. You love to draw characters and Joker adores watching you get lost in your element; it's something he's always enjoyed and he loves to write in his journal or read over the old pages while he sits beside you on the worn sofa. It's these quiet moments which make a relationship and nothing and no one will ever tear you apart.

You rarely go outside unless it's for work or for running errands, and Joker takes great comfort in knowing that you're at home where you are safest. Gotham City is violent and dangerous and every time you leave the apartment you are at some kind of risk. Joker is easily recognisable when he leaves the apartment in his brightly coloured three-piece suit and his greasepaint, but when the unknown and unseen Arthur Fleck steps out of the apartment complex, he is safe to accompany you on your errands. If he had his way, he would be always by your side but he knows that that's relatively unhealthy and so he keeps the thoughts to himself and he daily hopes that you know that he always wants to be with you. You're an introvert and Joker used to be one, too, but now he likes to go out and about at all hours of the day and night, without care for who sees him or when. You daily worry for his safety and his whereabouts but even so, Joker does not tell you anything because if he gets arrested or taken to Arkham Asylum, you will be the first person who would be suspected and questioned, and so he tells you nothing. That way is it safer. Joker will die for you but he knows that you would never ask that of him, just as he would never ask that of you, so instead does he live for you and somehow is that more poignant.

By this stage in your relationship, you and Joker know each other like the backs of your hands; unpredictable is he but at his core is he the same person you've always known and loved. You take great comfort in finding the pieces of Joker which resemble the man he has always been and he allows you this time to explore the person that he is now; all the while knowing that he trusts you to see him the way that nobody else ever has or ever will again. Your voice grounds Joker and it quietens the demons in his mind. These vicious voices are only ever so silent when he is with you; such is the power you have over him. He does just the same for you and you bond over the moments which you share in the dead of night; these moments bring you together and keep you together. Daily does he remind you of all the reasons why you love him. He is your one and only, just as you are his one and only; you are perfect for each other in every single way and you both know it.

#nonnie #arthur fleck #arthur fleck matchup #joker #joker matchup #joker 2019 #joker 2019 matchup

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beanzybrandon · 5 years

Text

High School! PRETTYMUCH — Edwin Honoret

• Edwin is the type of person that everyone knows • While most would assume this is due in part to some sort of cliche based on what they see in 80's coming-of-age high school movies, it's not. He's not the stereotypical jock/bully and he's far from being one of the popular kids who's "fame" was built on the premise of his good looks • In fact, he's very personable, and it's his inherent kindness that seems to draw people in • He is easily the sweetest kid you will ever meet. He goes out of his way to help people whenever he can and he makes it a point to include everyone in activities and discussion • All around, he's just a really dope dude • If it hadn't been for his outgoing nature and the need to try and make everyone feel comfortable, the two of you would not have met at all. • Transferring to a new school halfway through your junior year isn't exactly the most pleasant of situations. The stress that comes with having to adjust to everything is only amplified when you don't have someone to help you through it all • You hadn't talked to anyone aside from your teachers for a majority of the day. It wasn't until your fourth-period class rolled around that you had any sort of interaction with someone in your grade level • ‎And that wasn't due to any effort of your own • ‎You had quietly set about filling out the introductory paperwork your teacher had assigned, bobbing your head along to the beat of the song that flowed through your earbuds • ‎Before you could even register his presence, Edwin was dropping into the seat beside yours, a bright smile stretching across his lips as he turned to face you and extended a hand. "I don't think I've seen you around here before. I'm Edwin." • ‎"Y/N," you'd answer after removing your earbuds, brows furrowed in mild apprehension • ‎His hands were soft, though, and the smile he offered was warm and genuine. Both helped assuage any unease that might have sunken its talons into you • ‎Over the next several weeks, he did everything in his power to help you settle in and feel comfortable. • ‎Lots of smol things?? Like showing you around campus and introducing you to his friends (a set of equally pleasant people spread amongst each year) • ‎It didn't take long for you to become an official member of their little group. They seemed to adore you and the feeling was definitely mutual • ‎They were all fun and made the process of adapting that much easier • ‎It went without saying, though, that you were closest to Edwin • ‎The two of you spent quite a bit of time together and as the school year progressed, it reached a point where you were nearly attached at the hip. You became best friends in record time • ‎You spent time together in class, between classes, outside of school, and just about every available slot of time in between • ‎The feelings he held for you were far from platonic, though • ‎Poor thing had fallen harder for you than he thought possible • ‎Sadly enough, though, you seemed oblivious. No matter how obvious the hints he dropped were, you just didn't seem to be picking any of them up • ‎He was honestly beginning to feel as if his efforts might be for naught. It was kind of disheartening • ‎That is until prom rolled around • ‎He had been thinking about asking you to go with him for a while now. Why not confess while he was at it? There was no better time, really • ‎So he did • ‎In the softest way he knew how • ‎He spent the better part of a week planning the perfect proposal. He was rather satisfied with the way everything turned out by the time he had finished making arrangements • ‎It was pretty straightforward, for the most part. He had made a poster and had commissioned a couple of his friends to hold it when he actually set about asking you to go to prom • ‎The proposal itself was the part that differs from the norm • ‎He had an affinity for the ukulele and played for you quite often. He used this mutual appreciation in the hopes of wooing you and had written a song • ‎It was single-handedly the sweetest thing you had ever heard, the soft chords dancing alongside his angelic voice in a way that left your head fuzzy and your heart thumping erratically • ‎You accepted his proposal, of course • ‎Everything?? Was a whirlwind of euphoric surreality?? • You could barely remember having chosen your outfit, or even getting ready for the evening • ‎The entirety of the trip from your house to the venue had also been lost to time • ‎What you could remember, though, was how handsome Edwin looked when he came to pick you up. The softness of his hand as it enveloped yours and the beauty of that ever-present smile. You were certain that the image would be burned into your mind forever.

• The feeling of his body pressed so closely to your own on the dancefloor would certainly linger on your skin for years to come • The taste of his lips would be something you'd crave for an eternity • ‎The fact that he had even done it at all had come as quite the surprise. You couldn't say that you minded, though • ‎The two of you had been dancing, your head resting on his shoulder and the tips of his fingers digging slightly into tour hips. His hold was firm but far from uncomfortable • ‎You closed your eyes, body having grown accustomed to the gentle sway he had initiated. About halfway through the song (who's beat was slow and comforting but name you could not remember), he took hold of your chin and tilted your head upward. You hadn't even had the chance to open your eyes before soft lips were finding purchase on your own • ‎You melted into it almost immediately, hands moving to gingerly cup his face as you pressed yourself impossibly closer • ‎The rest is prettymuch (hAH) history • ‎He offered you a rushed, flustered apology the next morning, saying that it was inappropriate for him to have done something so brash without knowing if you even felt the same, much less if you were comfortable with him doing so • ‎You let him know everything was alright by laying another one on him • ‎He asked you out properly shortly thereafter • ‎Now?? Boyfriend Edwin?? • ‎The softest soft boy to ever soft!! • ‎He tries to teach you how to play the ukulele and writes cute little songs for you all the time • he'll slip little notes into your backpack or lunchbox as a little pick-me-up. he loves seeing the smile that stretches across your lips when you read them • Willingly gives you his hoodies. He thinks you look cute in them • ‎The master of planning dates?? He organizes the best picnics and can throw together a mean pillow fort for movie nights at home • ‎The biggest cuddle bug the world has ever seen • Like??? Nothing makes him happier than laying his head on your lap and having you play with his hair. He's fallen asleep because of how relaxing it is on more than one occasion • Just give him a hug and he'll be happy for the rest of the year • TL;DR: He is the sweetest baby in the history of the world and if you don't give him the affection he deserves, what are you even doing?

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shootybangbang · 5 years

Text

[Talking Bird] Ch 12: In which you become acquainted with the finer points of human anatomy

[Ao3 Link]

content warning: graphic violence, gore

“Look at me,” Arthur says. “It’s over.”

Everything is dulled, sounds muted and colors blurred, the only thing ringing sharp and true being the gun in your hands. Heavy and warm, the metal bore still radiating with residual heat from that final shot.

“You can put that down now. C’mon, give it here… ”

His fingers pry yours loose as he gently takes the shotgun back. Now emptied, your hands curl into fists instead, nails digging deep into your palms as your precipitous calm evaporates, the frozen silence giving way to ragged breathing and an uncontrollable shiver that grips you whole.

Your eyes are so wide that the whites of them glint in the light of the setting sun. And again he remembers the sparrow trembling in his cupped hands, the dying flutter of its heartbeat vibrating hard against his skin.

Slowly, tentatively, he reaches towards you, keeping his motions steady and giving you plenty of time to move away from him should you wish. But all you do is stare downwards, looking at the dead man’s spilled entrails as if you might divine some hidden meaning in their array.

Arthur gingerly puts his hands on your shoulders as he steps directly in front of the corpse, deliberately blocking it from view. “Don’t look at him. Look at me.”

———

How terrible the body when it is broken — the familiar visage cracked open to reveal the pulpy mass that has always lived beneath. The jagged edge of broken bone, the viscera shiny and wet from where it slithers forth.

There is a jolt of mingled disgust and fear that strikes us in the face of our own unraveling. Disgust in the knowing that the same grotesque display dwells in us as well, fear in the recognition of our own unavoidable fates.

———

You’d hit the ground hard when Arthur flung the both of you from the horse, and lain stunned in the red Lemoyne mud until he’d grabbed you by the collar. He’d pulled you upright with all the gentle grace of a hound breaking a hare’s neck, then dragged you behind a very conveniently placed boulder.

“Keep your head down,” he said. “And stay close to me.”

You looked down at the shotgun in your hands, then back at him. It occured to you suddenly that there was an easy, obvious way out of all this. Just shoot him, call out to the rival gang that you’d done their work for them, and maybe they’d let you off, maybe even give you a horse to ride back to —

“Don’t even think about it,” he‘d said, without even bothering to glance in your direction. “Right now, I’m all that’s standin’ between you and them. And trust me — they get ahold of you, you’re gonna wish it was me that killed you instead.”

“What?” you blustered. “I wasn’t going to —”

“Shut up and get that gun ready. Sit with your back against the rock… yeah, that’s it. I ain’t really expecting you to help much, so just keep your head down and cover me if you can.”

———

A curious calm had settled over you as you’d sat there crouched beside him, your hands fastened around a gun you barely knew how to use.

It doesn’t matter what I do now , you’d thought. Won’t have to live with the consequences because I’m about to get my fucking head blown off.

The stark certainty of death took the edge off things. An unexpected wave of relief had accompanied its realization, and it was this very deathbed conversion to fatalism that made it possible for you to not piss yourself the moment you heard approaching voices in the woods.

“... saw them jump.”

“can’t have gone far, keep looking… ’”

“... a woman with him, d’you think?”

Immediately you’d moved to pull the pump handle of the shotgun back, only to have Arthur grab your wrist. “Wait for my lead,” he said quietly. “And when it starts, keep your eyes on those trees behind us. Shoot anything that moves.”

———

And then the confused rush of violence. Gunfire, chipped fragments of rock flying everywhere. The disturbingly shrill scream of a horse as it had collapsed onto the ground, the weight of it echoed in the shiver of earth rippling in the wake of its impact.

“That’s two down,” you’d heard Arthur mutter. “Five more to go.” With the practiced ease of a professional, he’d pulled the bolt of the rifle backwards and quickly slotted the new shells into place.

You still don’t know whether it was courage or stupidity that compelled you to peek over the edge of the boulder. But peek you did, and in response you received a focused volley of bullets aimed directly at your head.

Had Arthur not immediately yanked you backwards and sent you tumbling against him, your skull would probably be sporting a nice collection of windows right about now.

“Idiot! You tryin’ to get killed?”

“There’s only three of them,” you’d said quietly, voice shaking with the realization. “I only saw three over there, so the other two…”

“I know,” he replied, brusquely pushing you off his lap. “So keep on your goddamn guard instead of playing groundhog.”

———

The last time you raised a gun to someone, Feng was still alive and the thought of smuggling opium had never once crossed your mind.

You hadn’t pulled the trigger then. Probably couldn’t have, paralyzed with fear as you were.

But you’re a different person now, aren’t you?

———

Only three men visible. That meant there were two somewhere hidden, possibly skirting the cover the boulder had been providing and approaching through the trees.

The surrounding area he’d tasked you with watching seemed a scrambled green mosaic, the branches and leaves and bushes woven together in a featureless mass. Your eyes darted wildly from shadow to shadow, each one stretching long and thin in the dimming evening light.

You’d panicked, then. Not so ready to die after all.

Death in the abstract is easy. Even with its surety, even with cavalier acceptance, the reality of it never really hits until its coming lies directly in the line of sight.

(Because you’ve always been a coward, haven’t you? Didn’t you once say that you’d give your life for the man you loved, only to draw back at that very last instant?)

———

A blur of movement in the trees. That’s all it was. Could have been a person, could have been an animal, could have been ripple of leaves stirred by the wind.

With that thought in mind, it hadn’t been hard to pull the trigger.

In the darkening woods, the man had been little more than a vague silhouette. But the sudden illumination of the muzzle flash lit up his face, throwing into sharp relief his green eyes, his wide open mouth, one hand flung uselessly in front of him.

end note: this was originally part of one hugeass chapter that i've chopped in half for the sake of brevity. so because i've got some pretty decent progress on it, the next chapter should be out pretty soon.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan/reader #arthur morgan/oc #rdr2 #red dead redemption #fic #my work #talking bird

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sky-casino · 5 years

Text

Ink-tainted Hands

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Jaehyun x Reader

Word Count: 4,200+

a/n: I’ve been into brush pen calligraphy lately and this plot about having Jaehyun as your only classmate in a calligraphy workshop suddenly came into mind lol. Hope you enjoy!

It was a breezy and sunny summer day when you arrived for the first time at your new dorm near the university campus. You unpacked your luggage for a couple of hours till lunchtime and as famished as you were, you quickly ran down the stairs and headed out to find a place to eat. You spotted an America-style diner on a corner a few blocks away and to your happiness almost ran to the place. After a few minutes, the waitress on roller skates delivered chicken and waffles and a tall glass of milkshake to your table. After a quick prayer, you munched down on the meal.

You took a few minutes after finishing the food to just look around the diner and outside its windows. This would be your surroundings for the next three years and you couldn't say that you weren't pleased. Everything looked so bright, lively, and fun. Your mom wanted you to stay at home longer but you convinced her to let you move to the dorm two weeks before your freshman classes begin as you wanted to get accustomed to the place as early as you can. Also, you were pretty much thrilled to start living on your own and feel the independence.

As you observed your surroundings, you noticed the cork board that served as the diner's bulletin board. It piqued your interest so you stood up and walked to it. Pinned to it were announcements and event invitations of various kinds. There was something about a charity concert, a flea market, and list and schedules of different 2-week workshops offered by the city's public library that are on a discount for students. The last one caught your attention. In the list, there were workshops for calligraphy, sketching, painting, creative writing, and baking. You instantly clasped your hands together as a physical expression of your excitement upon reading the word 'calligraphy'. Calligraphy has been a rising trend in your area recently so you told yourself to learn it as soon as an opportunity arises, and it just popped up in your face like this.

"Schedule is MWF at 10am to 12 noon, 2 o'clock to 4pm, and 6pm to 8pm. Today is a Sunday and it.. already starts tomorrow?! Shit. I need to sign up today!" You exclaimed right before running out of the diner, but then you realized you had no idea where the library was and how to get there, so you went back to the diner to ask one of the waitresses.

You learned that it was just walking distance from the diner and so you ran and ran until you reached the entrance.

"Hello, may I know where I can sign up for a workshop?" You asked the security guard after you caught your breath.

"Good afternoon. Just proceed to the reception area."

"Alright, thanks."

You entered but almost quickly stopped in your tracks because you were surprised to see how beautiful and modern the library was. It wasn't the typical library, it's a learning hub.

"Good afternoon and welcome! How may I help you?" The receptionist greeted you.

"Oh, hi. I'm here to sign up for the calligraphy work shop?"

"Let me check if there are any slots left first."

You silently prayed in your mind that there is a single slot left.

"Hmm, we only have slots left for the 6PM time slot."

You didn't know whether to be happy or sad. You were glad that there was still a slot for you, of course. But you didn't exactly like to attend the latest time slot. You were hoping for either the 10AM or 2PM class. Nevertheless, you gratefully accepted and paid for your slot before leaving.

The next evening, you found yourself running down the stairs of your dorm and on the brink of being late to the workshop. You decided to take a 1-hour nap before you had to leave to make sure you won't feel sleepy during the late-night workshop.

You ended up being five minutes late and were pretty nervous of the possibility that your classmates will look at you and worse, the teacher will reprimand you.

"Whatever." You muttered before slowly opening the door.

First of all, the teacher wasn't there yet. Second, you only had one classmate. Yes, one. And he was looking at you as you entered the room. He was a bit far and you could only see his side profile, but damn you already knew was fine as hell.

You made your way the chair beside him on the first row.

"Hi." He said with a shy smile as you sat down.

"Hello."

"My name is Jaehyun." He said as he reluctantly offered his hand for a handshake. This time you realized he had dimples that made him ten times more attractive.

"Y/N. Nice to meet you."

"Looks like we're the only ones in this class. Maybe no one else signed up for this schedule?"

"Well, I didn't actually join this time slot. But I was told that this was the only time left that had available slots." You replied.

"Really? Same! When did you sign up?" Jaehyun asked excitedly, finding it amusing that you were in the same situation.

"Yesterday after lunch. You?" You asked with a laugh.

"Yesterday at around 5PM."

"We were probably the last two people who registered. So here we are." You said with a dramatic sigh, earning you a laughter from Jaehyun. His dimples now more prominent than ever and you were just staring at them, even long after his laughter died down and turned into a smile. You didn't know that he was staring at your face at the same time, resulting to a moment of awkward silence. He was about to laugh out of amusement again but the door opened, revealing a lady in her mid thirties, your teacher.

"Good evening and I'm very sorry for my tardiness." She quickly greeted.

"No worries, it's fine." You quietly replied, uncertain if you even had to respond to her apology.

"Hmm.. there are more students than I expected." Your teacher stated as she prepared the materials. You and Jaehyun looked at each other, confused.

"To be honest with you, I didn't expect someone will be in this time slot. But anyway, let's start. Come and get your materials: a nib, a straight nib holder, a small bottle of black ink, and practice sheets. For this week, you will be learning pointed pen calligraphy and for next week, we will use brush pens. These two tools result to two different styles of modern calligraphy, which what this workshop is about."

Holding the materials and listening to your teacher's words ignited your enthusiasm once more.

During your first night of workshop, you learned the fundamentals of pointed pen calligraphy: you should fully dip the nib into the ink until it reaches the base, light strokes are usually done upwards, and heavy strokes are normally done downwards. Before you know it, the two hours were already up.

"That's all for tonight. See you the day after tomorrow. Kindly clean up before you leave. The library closes in thirty minutes so move quickly. Good night." The teacher advised.

"Noted, ma'am. Thank you." You replied.

"Damn, I didn't think calligraphy was easy at all but I didn't expect it to be this hard. Look at my strokes! So messy!" Jaehyun sulked. You only knew each other for a couple of hours but you instantly feel comfortable with each other like close friends.

"Well, as what she told earlier. Practice makes-"

"Perfect." Jaehyun interrupted you.

"No. Progress. It's progress, Jaehyun. Because no one is perfect."

"Oh.. yup. You're correct." His embarrassed expression caused you to burst into laughter, and you had no idea how red his ears were at that moment.

"Alright, miss. We need to clean up our desks and our tainted hands. So I'd gladly appreciate if you could.. you know, stop laughing at me?" He was even more sulky by now and you decided to stop pissing off your new friend whom you discovered to be quite sensitive.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry, mister." You raised both your hands to show you surrender while taking off the scratch newspapers on your desks that served as a protection from the ink.

"I'm starving. Would you like to go get dinner? Only if it's.. fine, of course. You might have somewhere else to go or someth-"

"Sure. I'd love to. I'm starving as well and I got zero plans after this." You were clueless as to why you felt some butterflies in your stomach to the prospect of having dinner with this guy, but you were sure you're suppressing a smile.

"It's up to you where we'll eat. You know a place?" Jaehyun asked you as both of you stepped out of the library.

"Hmm, there's a diner around that block. Wanna try?"

"Absolutely. I want some burgers and fries right now. You seem to be familiar with the place. You live here?"

"Oh, not at all. Just moved to my dorm yesterday morning. I had my lunch at the diner yesterday and it's actually the only restaurant I've seen so far."

"You got to be kidding me. I'm the same! Moved here yesterday after lunch." Jaehyun said as the two of you entered the diner.

"I'll have bacon, eggs, hashbrown, and chocolate milk shake." You told the waitress.

"I'll get the triple decker burger, fries, and iced coffee." Jaehyun ordered.

"Wait, okay. So, are we gonna go to the same university? Seoul National University?" You clarified with a hidden thrill in your voice.

"That's right. But I'm taking up Architecture. You?"

"Multimedia Arts. Wow, this is good, right? We already have each other as a friend even before classes start two weeks from now."

"Yup. At least we already know someone in school. Also, I was thinking, maybe we can practice what we learned from the workshop earlier? Maybe in the afternoon before the Wednesday session?" Jaehyun suggested as the waitress placed your orders on the table.

"That'd be great. I was planning to practice anyway."

Half an hour later, Jaehyun offered to walk you to your dorm.

"Thank you for accompanying me here, even though there was absolutely no need. I appreciate it."

"No problem. It's late already and I had to make sure you get back here safely." Jaehyun flashed you a shy smile.

"Well, see you on Wednesday afternoon at 3PM?"

"Yup. I'll text you where it will be. Which reminds me.. I don't have your number yet?"

"Oh, right." You said before proceeding to dictate your number.

"Thanks, will text you. Good night and it was really nice to meet you. You're cool."

"Wow, this is the first time someone, let alone a guy, has told me that I'm cool. Thank you very much, Jaehyun." You dramatically placed your hands on your chest.

"It's true, though. See you!" He saluted at you playfully before walking off.

You jogged up the stairs to finally take a shower and a good night's sleep, but most importantly, to get on the phone to call your best friend and tell her about this dashing young man who's also into calligraphy.

After doing your nightly beauty routine, you jumped into your bed as you excitedly waited for your best friend to pick up the call.

"Hey Seulgi! Sorry, did I wake you up?"

"Hi! Nope! I'm just binge-watching on Netflix. What's up?"

"Oh my god, I need to tell you something urgently." You said, emphasizing the last word.

"Spill!"

"I honestly can't believe that today is just my second day in this city but it's already going so great? It's surreal."

"Did you meet a cute guy?" Seulgi squealed.

"Yes, and he's not just cute. He's super cute. Jaehyun is his name." You said dreamily.

"How did you meet?"

"He's my only classmate in the calligraphy workshop I told you about yesterday. We had dinner tonight after the session and he invited me to practice calligraphy on Wednesday afternoon. He asked for my number too. Oh and, it turns out he's a dormer here too and we're both going to SNU. We clicked so well right away. God, this is too good to be true."

"It sounds perfect! I just hope that he's single. Please, God."

"I know we're going too fast but I agree. I really hope he is.”

“You need to find out soon if he's single and ready to mingle."

"But how will I ask that? I don't want him to find me weird."

"Just say something like 'Will your girlfriend attend SNU too?'. Assume innocently then watch out for his response. That's how we'll know."

"Great advice. Alright, I'll talk to you again soon. Good night."

"Night and sweet dreams!"

"Sweet dreams." You hung up and stared at the stars outside your window, thinking about dimple boy.

Wednesday afternoon arrived and you were on your way to the cafe that Jaehyun texted you the name of the night before. "He's so considerate." You thought to yourself as you read his text again to follow the directions from your dorm to the said cafe. "He could've just sent me the name and leave it to me to find how to get there but he gave clear directions. Sweet."

When you entered the cafe, you easily spotted him as his tall figure was standing and moving around his chosen table. You wondered for a second what kept him busy and you realized that he was covering the entire desk with newspaper as a safety measure. Neither of you wants to stain the cafe's table or you might end up cleaning or paying for the damage.

"Hey, sorry I'm late." You greeted as you put your bag down on one of the chairs.

"No problem. Have you ordered?"

"Not yet."

"You can place your order first, I already placed mine."

"Alrighty."

When you came back with your chicken-pesto sandwich and iced macchiato, he was already sitting and settled down, ready to start. Then you suddenly remembered what Seulgi said the other day, “You need to find out soon if he’s single and ready to mingle.”

You cleared your throat while you felt your cheeks burn before asking, “So, do you have anyone else attending SNU too? Like friends and.. a girlfriend? You could hear your heartbeats thumping, scared of what his reaction might be.

“I have some high school batch mates, but they’re not taking up Architecture and we’re not really close. I don’t have a girlfriend. But I’m flattered that you think I have. Thank you.” The last part made him laugh and you laughed with him as a sign of relief.

You spent the next couple of hours bent down as you repeatedly practiced writing the entire English alphabet, both the capital and small versions of each letter.

"My back and neck are in pain." You whined.

"Same here. I didn't know calligraphy could be so physically taxing." Jaehyun said in an almost defeated tone."Let's stretch it out." He continued, the two of you standing up and doing every stretching exercise for the upper body that you know.

When you sat back down, Jaehyun absentmindedly rubbed his right knuckle on his nose, leaving a medium-sized black stain.

"Why are you laughing?"

You couldn't even answer him as you continued to laugh hysterically.

"What's wrong?"

"Your nose-" Your laugh interrupted your own words.

Jaehyun quickly used the front camera of his phone to check his face and you actually saw the moment he got embarrassed.

"Shit." He muttered, frantically looking for a clean napkin on the table but you used it up already.

"Here, lucky for you I have wet wipes." You handed the item to him, feeling sorry for laughing so much at your embarrassed friend.

"Thank you."

"Sorry, should've told you sooner instead of laughing my ass off."

Jaehyun looked at you, surprised. "No worries. I'm not mad or anything." He assured you with his dimples.

You were about to pick up your pen when Jaehyun suddenly told you that it was already 5:30. The two of you cleaned up and packed your bags quickly and walked briskly to the library for your second calligraphy session.

The second week of the sessions just began and you found yourself more excited for this than the last one, all because of the new tool you will be using: colorful brush pens. Oh, and of course your cute classmate is also a reason to look forward to the new week.

"Thank God, this is easier and more fun to use." Jaehyun said after the teacher went to the restroom.

"I know right! I've always had a good feeling about brush pens." You whispered as you tirelessly practiced using your pink brush pen, struggling to contain your vigor which made Jaehyun chuckle and gaze at you longer than usual.

On Wednesday that week, your teacher gave you a final assignment: write a word or a short phrase using your choice of method: pointed pen or brush pen. "Submission on Friday. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"It's exciting but I don't know what to write." You said after the teacher made her exit.

"Hmm, yeah. Same. But I don't wanna think about it yet. Dinner?"

"Let's go."

Thursday morning, you texted Jaehyun if he wanted to meet with you at the cafe to work on the assignment.

"Sorry, I can't. I have other errands to attend to and can only work on it late tonight. But see you tomorrow! Really sorry!"

You were dismayed and it made getting up from bed a bit harder.

"It's totally fine. Yup, see you! :)" You sent.

You washed your face and made yourself a cup of coffee before sitting down by your desk. Pens and papers were laid out and you just stared at them for five minutes, contemplating what word or phrase you wanted to write. Which colors to be used will follow later.

The next day arrived and it was also the last day of your calligraphy workshop. You were a bit somber as you walked to the room, clutching your assignment to your chest. You texted Jaehyun earlier if he wanted to meet up before the session so you could go together but he said that he had to fix something in his dorm room and that you should go ahead. And you did, that's why you're now alone in the room, ten minutes early.

You looked at your work and slowly smiled at it as a physical manifestation of your high level of satisfaction. A few minutes later, the door opened again and you expected to see Jaehyun, but it was the teacher instead.

"Good evening." She greeted.

"Good evening, ma'am." You replied, but at the back of your head you actually wanted to say a sarcastic remark about the fact that this is the only time she was punctual, and it's the last session.

"Where's he?"

"P-probably on his way already. Just had to fix something in his dorm."

She replied with a nod. It was awkward for you to be alone with her and you repeated in your mind for Jaehyun to arrive already. After a few seconds, he busted into the door, panting.

"Sorry I'm late." He huffed as he sat down beside you.

"No worries. We'll end this session early as I just need you to present your works. Explain why you wrote what you wrote and why you used the method you used. Then before you go, I'll give you your certificates. Y/N, you first." Your no-nonsense teacher instructed, taking a seat in the same row as you and Jaehyun.

"Okay." You said as you stood up and went to the front.

"Hi. This is what I wrote: Let New Adventures Begin. I decided to write this phrase because I'm... about to start college next week. I also moved here from another city so it's my first time to be independent. I'm excited but also very nervous and clueless about things so I wrote this to encourage and motivate myself. I used brush pens and blended orange and pink colors because I wanted it to look bright. I decided to use this method because brush pen calligraphy is not that strict when it comes to rules, unlike the pointed-pen method. I can be as creative as I can be and show my personality with this method and tools. Yeah, I think that's all. Thank you." You finished with a nervous but relieved smile.

"Very good, Y/N. Both your work and presentation is excellent. Jaehyun, your turn."

"Thank you so much, ma'am." You said as Jaehyun slowly rose up from his seat.

Once in front, he took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "Sorry, I'm just a bit nervous."

You giggled and offered him an encouraging smile.

"Okay so, this is what I wrote."

You were surprised to see your name. "My name?"

"Yup. Your name, because I want to give this to you as a gift." Jaehyun said with a nervous chuckle before biting his lip.

"What?"

"Jaehyun, please make your presentation cohesive." Your teacher said as both of you were clueless about what Jaehyun was saying.

"Sorry. But.. yes. I wrote your name because I was planning to give this to you as a gift. You've been a very cool friend and you always patiently help me improve my calligraphy skills and we really get along well and fortunately, we will be studying in the same university and I don't know but... I just like you so much. I enjoy our time together a lot and I hope that even if this workshop ends we will remain close friends because..." Jaehyun interrupted his own ramblings as he looked at you with a serious gaze. You felt yourself sweating a bit and holding your breath.

"....because I want to see if we can be more than that." He finally said. "Oh and before I forget, I used brush pens because you love brush pens. Also, I was late not because I was fixing something in my room but because I had to buy a frame in the bookstore so I could frame this. I just didn't want to give you a paper, I wanted it to be more presentable. This is also why I rejected your invitations to work together for this assignment, because it’s a surprise. And yes, I know this is not the best calligraphy work but I really did my best." He chuckled.

"Alright, I didn't expect such a presentation. But well done, anyway. Just avoid rambling on and on. Here are your certificates proving that you finished and did well on this workshop." Your teacher shared as you and Jaehyun locked eyes with unreadable expressions.

"Guys?" Your teacher called out.

"Sorry, ma'am!" You said as you rushed to her to get your certificate, not knowing that Jaehyun's gaze still lingered on you.

"Thank you for participating." She said as she held out her hand for a handshake.

"We should be the ones to thank you, ma'am. We really enjoyed and learned a lot." You shook her hand.

"Y/N's right, ma'am. Thanks a lot." Jaehyun said during his turn for the handshake.

"You're very welcome. Alright, I'll be leaving now. Seems like... the two of you have a lot to talk about." She smirked.

"Yes we do, ma'am." Jaehyun answered and you were scared of the looming conversation you two will be having.

"Okay, goodbye." Your teacher said.

"Goodbye, ma'am." You and Jaehyun said in unison.

You went and packed your things right after she left, the room now filled with silence.

"H-here. This is for you." Jaehyun stuttered as he handed his framed work to you.

"Thank you so much, Jaehyun. It's beautiful." You graciously took the work from his hands, glancing up at him as many times as you could, which was twice because you still felt shy about everything he said earlier.

"I'm sorry for doing that earlier. I know I should've talked to you in private. I put you in an uncomfortable situation, I'm sorr-"

"It's fine. Don't worry. I was surprised but it's okay, I'm okay." You assured him with a smile, patting his shoulder.

"I hope this doesn't... affect our friendship." Jaehyun said with furrowed brows, obviously still worrying despite your assurance.

"It doesn't. It won't. You know..." You guessed it was your turn to confess.

"Hm?"

"I.. I like you too. You're cute and dorky and full of energy all the time, always curious and enthusiastic. And I can't stop looking at your dimples!" Confessing lightens the heart indeed, you thought to yourself.

The two of you were giggling in the atmosphere of first love until Jaehyun put on his serious face.

"I just want you to know that I don't want you to feel any pressure, I can definitely wait." Jaehyun said and you swore to the gods you felt your heart swelling with love and admiration.

"I know. It's better if we take things slow, right?"

"Of course! Friends to best friends to girlfriend and boyfriend." He teased, causing you to smack his arm. "By the way, I found a cute coffee shop some blocks away from here. Wanna try?"

"Is that even a question?" You sassed, rolling your eyes.

"Well then, shall we go now, my lady?" He said as he dramatically offered his bent right arm for you to link your left. You accepted his arm and found your way out of the library.

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