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wing-ed-thing · 3 years

Text

Mob Wife (Kakuzu x Reader, ft. Hidan) Part IV

Synopsis: The Akatsuki are in emergency mode. Kakuzu leads Hidan to the only place he knows for sure is safe to regroup.

Word Count:

Warnings/Tags: Violence, Blackmail, Language, Fem!Reader, HouseWife!Reader, Moll!Reader, Attempt at Humor, Ceremonial Drinking of Sake, Traditional Wedding

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Finale

Notes: It’s back. Writing Hidan has got me feeling a certain way rn

It rained on your wedding day: weather fitting for, and not minded by, a criminal and a deserter. As you approached the temple, he tried to tell you many times that you were going to be turned away, but as you spoke to the shrine masters, you were greeted warmly and welcomed. You were young with a warm face that offset Kakuzu’s intimidating exterior. Everyone always loved you right away, a way about you that Kakuzu could never begin to consider replicating. With your open heart, you brought a foreign concept into his world: acceptance. The few priests and priestesses at the temple on the border of the Land of Stone looked upon you kindly, a kindness that you and Kakuzu continued to repay years later. The small village of a few hundred that housed that shrine would never see a shinobi attack. Now, only you continue to repay years later.

You could tell that Kakuzu didn’t like being in the temple in the slightest. He had never been one for religion or structure or ceremonies, so you tried not to laugh the first time you saw him in his montsuki haori hakama. You wondered how much grumbling went into getting Kakuzu in such formal attire with a goofy, lopsided grin. Even as he gazed upon your amused, upturned lips, his infamous temper laid unusually dormant. Kakuzu never thought that he would see his own wedding day. Being the kind of man he was, he never thought that he’d have one. He didn’t think that he deserved it, but for once as you stood in front of him in your shiromuku, all of his jaded thoughts seemed to fade. Of course with you, all doors opened.

Kakuzu knelt next to you at the shrine, ever stoic. He put his hair up before the ceremony and secured it neatly behind his head. You remembered it when it was short. As the priest announced your marriage to the gods, you couldn’t help but glance at Kakuzu out of the corner of your eye. He held himself together better than you imagined he would.

“Well, yes. I am an adult,” he would tell you later.

But at that moment, he received the first sakazuki. The priest's vessel tipped over the small cup two times before pouring. Kakuzu brought the dish up to his lips and took three sips: pointless seeing that neither of you had parents, but traditional nonetheless. You were taught to always honor your ancestors, but you doubted that Kakuzu felt the same. You received your cup and the same sake, taking the same three sips and the ceremony went on. The second sakazuki represented your vow to care for each other. You received a slightly larger cup and once again, you each touched the sake to your lips three times. The third represented fortune and fertility.

The Heavens, the Earth, and the People.

You offered Kakuzu a light smile as you moved to the next part of the ceremony, a gesture to assure him that it was almost over. He would have rolled his eyes in any other setting, but Kakuzu didn’t even have to speak for you to know exactly what he meant. You knew that more than anything, he was happy to be with you. Out of all the things that he had done as a shinobi, he could handle a stuffy ceremony.

“I thought you liked stuffy things,” you teased him later, parts of your robes slung over forearms and shoulders for better mobility as you walked through the gardens. Your hand rested in his as you balanced yourself on some raised, rock ledges. His expression could have easily been mistaken for exasperation as he scoffed, but you knew better. He looked happy. “You’re a shinobi. Now that’s stuffy!”

The priest had you stand and you received a flowering branch to offer to the gods. As you held the sprig in your hand, you glanced at Kakuzu. His eyes met your own and you quietly prayed over your offerings before presenting them together, stem first. You bowed together, the rituals vaguely familiar to you as you performed them.

With the blessings of the gods, you had received your rings. Your thumb ran over the skin of Kakuzu’s hand. They had a familiar gruffness to them and held smooth bumps from old scars. His fingernails were short. You slid the band onto his ring finger. The black suited him. He squeezed the fingers of your other hand. The space behind your eyes stung as you held back tears watching as he placed the ring on your hand.

Neither of you had family, so you thanked the shrine priests and priestesses and enjoyed their hospitality. You took a single picture. It was the same frame that you held in your hands now.

Kakuzu walked out a few hours ago, taking Hidan with him. Your kitchen was, for the most part, wrecked. Your doing. Your tears had since dried up and your trembling was beginning to fade. With a shaky breath, you brought yourself to your feet. You placed the picture face-down on the counter and reached for the broom in the corner. Your heart hurt, but the world continued on. And if the world continued on, so should you.

***

You didn’t want to eat, you didn’t feel hungry, but you stood over the sink anyway biting into whatever you could pull from your fridge. You cleaned up the kitchen to the best of your ability. Trash piled up in neat bins outside: splintered wood, broken plates, and any other particles of dust that you managed to sweep up. You could handle it later. At least the rest of the kitchen was spotless. You glanced down at the thick wedding band that sat in your hand. Twirling it between your fingers, you bit into your bell pepper like an apple. That was the kind of night you were having.

A harsh pounding came from the front door and for a split second you wondered if your husband came back. Ex-husband. You didn’t think so. You kept your eyes on the kitchen window but the pounding continued adamantly. A slight shiver went down the back of your neck. The next farm wasn’t for miles. That was definitely not Kakuzu.

You put down your pepper and rolled out your utensil drawer. Your fingers danced across the kunai strapped to the bottom as you silently hoped that your training hadn’t worn off too horribly. The banging ceased as the doorknob began to rattle. The door swung open and you launched your kunai with immense velocity and precision. It was snatched out of the air.

“Fuck! That hurts like a bitch!”

Hidan stood in the entryway with his hand still held up and wrapped around your weapon. Blood dripped onto your floors as the kunai clattered to the ground. He shook out his palm, now sporting a deep gash. All you could do was stand and blink, wondering why he was there and if Kakuzu was with him. Hidan threw his cloak onto the rack. It slid, hardly staying on as he marched over to you. The door didn’t fit into its frame the same as it did before and there was no sign of Kakuzu.

“Can you patch me up, lady?” He looked around your kitchen for somewhere to sit, but found none. He dripped more onto your floors. You quickly guided his wrist over your sink and looked up at him. Beads of water fell down his face. You didn’t even hear the rain outside.

“What happened?” you asked sternly, your voice cracking a bit with worry. Hidan groaned.

“You fucked up my hand, can you at least fix me? I’m traumatized over here.” You sighed, yanking him forward before turning the running water on over his hand. You held it there for a second as if telling him to keep it there before running off to get your medical kit.

“Hidan, you have to tell me if there is an emergency,” you said as you heaved the box onto the counter from your spare room. You cleaned his palm with soap and disinfectant before applying pressure. While you didn’t have to worry about blood loss with Hidan, you also didn’t want him passing out on your kitchen floor either. That would make one more thing to clean up. “Hidan—” You pulled the gauze extra tight. He didn’t seem to be listening to you. —“Is there an emergency?”

“No, lady, it was just cold as fuck and Kakuzu’s got a stick up his ass that’s worse than usual. But you already know what that’s like.” The atmosphere stood still at the mention of Kakuzu’s name.

You knew that you shouldn’t worry about him. As far as you were concerned, he had just divorced you a few hours ago, and even if he hadn’t, you were certain that he could take care of himself. You apparently didn’t do a great job at masking your worry.

He usually didn’t care about the effect of his words, but as you frowned to yourself, Hidan couldn’t help but consider how sad you looked. He pursed his lips, never one for comforting others. For a split second, he wondered whether or not he should have brought up his partner at all. Two fingers gently bumped the bottom of your chin and you looked up at Hidan.

“Don’t look so down. It doesn’t look good on you.” He hesitated. “He’ll come back.”

You dropped his wrapped hand, not noticing that you’ve been drawing loops around his knuckles with your finger.

“I don’t know. He’s usually pretty certain about things and I can’t dwell on that.” You shook your head, turning the water back on to wash your own hands. “You have to go. I know that you have things to do and my— and Kakuzu won’t like that you’re here.” He pouted as you moved around him. You had blood to clean up.

“But it’s raining…” he pouted, expression falling in your peripheral. “And he’s miserable right now which means I’m miserable. C’mon let me stay, I’m miserable.”

“Hidan.” You turned to him and leaned on the doorway from your kitchen to your small living area. “Your partner doesn’t live here anymore.” You flicked on the entryway light, your bucket in hand. Hidan followed behind you, now taking your spot in the doorframe.

“But that doesn’t mean that I have to leave. You know he’s being stupid, but that doesn’t mean that I need to suffer out in the rain because Kakuzu’s a crotchety, old bastard.” You sighed, resting on the handle of your mop. You shook your head.

“I’m sure by the time you get to town the two of you can find somewhere to stay.”

A silence overtook the house again, full of raging, but unspoken thoughts. You squeezed out the yarns and tended to the floors. It, at the very least, gave you something to do. Hidan’s blood already dried part way and you scrubbed harder, but not before it was snatched out of your grip. Hidan shoved you over to take your place. The backs of your knees hit the armrest of the modest couch that you almost toppled down onto. He took to scrubbing.

“So what happened?” he asked.

“Sorry?” Hidan peered at you with his bright violet irises.

“I’m trying to be nice and ask you about your problems, so you better start chatting before I lose interest.” The mop splashed back into the bucket. “Who else do you get to talk to?” You pursed your lips. You knew that he was biding his time to wait out the rain, but his words weren’t wrong. The hurt still felt fresh and perhaps you were feeling a bit desperate to get it out of your system.

“I’m not sure what happened. I asked, but, well, you know how my… how Kakuzu is.” And you found yourself retelling the entirety of what happened: the argument, the ring, Kakuzu’s misplaced comments about children. You left out the part about the wrecked kitchen. “And then he said something about ‘now letting this happen’ which had to be the last straw for me.”

“Did you want brats?” Hidan had since stopped his cleaning. Surprisingly, he listened intently to your rambling as he propped himself against the wall. You swung your feet back and forth over the side of the couch.

“I never really thought about it before and Kakuzu and I never talked about it, so I don’t know why he brought it up.”

“Because he’s a dumbass who thinks too much. I never know what’s going on in that fucked up head of his. If I had a home to come to like this with a cute little thing in an apron—” Hidan scoffed. —“Fuck the Akatsuki. I wouldn’t be hiding you out here because of some band of losers in capes.” That made you laugh.

“You’re in the Akatsuki,” you giggled and Hidan raised a slender eyebrow.

“So? I’m the best one out of all those guys.”

“The best out of some band of losers?” The corners of Hidan’s lips turned upwards into a brief smile as he rolled his pretty irises.

“Listen, I got my devilish charms going for me which is better than Ragdoll. He looks like a fucking pin cushion.” Your hand came over your mouth as you laughed. Hidan looked down at where you sat, pride swelling in his chest at the prospect of cheering you up. But your face quickly morphed into something sentimental.

“Aw, but he’s a cute pin cushion…” Your bottom lip curled into a pout, but at least you didn’t look quite as sad as before. Hidan leaned a bit forward.

“He’s a little over a hundred-eight centimeters tall and has a big-ass nose.” You let out an amused breath. “I’d hardly consider that ‘cute’.”

“But it’s a cute nose. It’s slender and has that cute little bump in the middle.” Your voice grew quieter. Another silence, the third of Hidan’s visit.

It all felt too confusing for you. Maybe Kakuzu was never that interested in you in the first place. You shook your head then and there, much to Hidan’s confusion. Despite Kakuzu’s attitude towards most everything, you knew that he cared deeply about you. Perhaps he had grown bored. Despite ninja work not being of interest to you, you knew that many found the profession very exciting. You ran many profitable operations in the surrounding area, but more money could be made elsewhere, you knew that much. Your lifespan was nothing compared to Kakuzu’s nearly a century of living. He had done everything in life that he had wanted to do and all you had little to show for your existence.

You kept replaying his words about the time that you had. That you had enough time to do more. But if you really thought about it, you were content living the way you had been. You were happy and for a split second you considered whether or not Kakuzu actually saw himself as worthy of you. You shook your head for the second time. No, if anything, you considered it the other way around. You’d imagine that you would come off as boring and childlike to an immortal.

“That’s a lot of thinking.” Hidan had taken to wandering around the room. You hadn’t noticed. “Fuck thinking. You deserve better than taking care of some place in the middle of nowhere and running numbers on boring-ass shit.” You smiled again to yourself, something else that you didn’t notice.

“I actually like it here,” you mumbled. Hidan yawned.

“Can I stay now?” You deliberated to yourself before grabbing the bucket and the mop away from him. He didn’t do a great job, but you found yourself relatively uncaring at the moment.

“Yes, you can stay,” you sighed. Hidan was already halfway down the hall by the time you finished your sentence.

“Good because I was going to crash here anyway.”

@brokennerdalert @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @krispypotato @meme-queen-1999

Notes: Reader and Kakuzu had a Shinto wedding if anyone’s interested.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

#kakuzu x reader #hidan x reader #kakuzu #hidan #Akatsuki x reader #akatsuki #naruto x reader #naruto x y/n #naruto x you #naruto imagines #naruto imagine #naruto scenarios #naruto scenario #naruto headcanon #naruto headcanons #x you #x reader #reader insert

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tobiosmilktea · 4 years

Note

can i request headcannons for tsukishima, kuroo, iwa, and oikawa on their best friend telling them that they like someone so the boys get all sad (or whatever reaction you see fit) but it turns out that their bff was talking about them the whole time + like a confession. thank you in advance 💞

hidden feelings with tsukishima, kuroo, iwaizumi, and oikawa

a/n: sorry for the wait! this was really fun to write, hope you all like it :)) also scenarios are going to take a little longer to publish, but i’ll make sure to get them out asap !

— t. kei

you honestly said it out of the blue

you didn’t think of it much, it was more like a little hint since surely tsukishima was smart enough to figure it out right?

wrong.

you both were in the middle of a study session break and the entire time you could barely focus when the guy you were entirely whipped for was sitting right in front of you

the workspace was small too as both of your materials could barely fit on the table, his face was barely a foot away from yours the entire time

like hOW THE HELL IS HE NOT FLUSTERED RN

it’s been like this for ages though, ever since you two had met the beginning of your first year at karasuno

you immediately fell in love with his humor with how his quite teasing charm was always your favorite type of banter

and you could tell that he had some sort of soft spot for you ever since you could fire back the same spit fire of jokes and teasing just as he did for you

you just hoped that all that teasing (which was literally dRENCHED in flirtations and suggestive humor) that you hoped that a smartass like tsukishima kei would finally get it

but it’s been months and none of it had worked, so you opted for a different approach

you haven’t exactly seen tsukishima jealous and you genuinely wanted to see his reaction that one of his closest friends had taken a liking for someone else

“can i ask you something?” you would start. it was something nonchalant and open ended so of course tsukishima couldn’t really say no

“hm,” he hums as he sipped on his juice box

you cleared your throat, “so there’s this guy i like...”

then a scoff leaves his lips and interrupts you

you give him a look to which his eyes immediately softened as he shook his head, “sorry, keep going.”

“aNYWAY, i’ve liked this guy for a while now and i’ve been hinting that i like him for a while now, but i’m starting to think that he might be too dense to even see.”

tsukishima’s expression was unreadable as he drank the very last of his juice box’s contents before crushing it in his hand, chucking to the other side of the room and into his trash bin

“i think that guy's an idiot.” he concludes, clearing his throat.

“really?” you said, it was almost enticing.

“yeah, honestly i think you shouldn’t be wasting your time on that guy...”

a small pout melted upon your lips as tsukishima’s golden eyes met yours

“why would you think that?”

“cause i think you should pay attention to me instead.” he said out of the blue

“hUH?”

homie really caught you off guard

like you were genuinely confused to whether or not he misspoke or if this was another one of his playful banter

“yeah right,” you muttered, picking up your pencil and continued to jot down notes in attempt to leave the subject behind

“i’m serious.” he deadpanned

your gaze flickered back up to him as you pursed your lips, biting them as you felt your heart beat pound harder against your ribs. your chest was already constricted from the thought of embarrassing yourself for even bringing it up

“who is this guy anyway?” tsukishima continues and it honestly sounded like a genuine threat.

you roll your eyes and scoff, “i was talking about you idiot!”

a small smirk appeared on his lips as if it was the most knowing and condescending look ever, “good, that’s what i thought.”

“hUH?” x2

once again your eyes were wide and confused

“there’s a reason why yamaguchi always leave us alone together.”

— k. tetsurou

it was 2am with you and kuroo being suPER delirious

as it was the start of the weekend, kuroo thought it was a good idea to hangout at your place after vb practice along with kenma

you two were literally the golden trio at nekoma, so it was a given

kenma had left hours ago around 9pm to go home, but honestly there is a good chance he’s still awake and just wanted to leave with the amount of tension between you and kuroo

not to mention he wanted to play games on his computer

kenma literally couldn't stand that awkward air between you and the vb team captain as your usual hangouts didn’t even feel normal anymore

as if you both were stepping on fragile eggshells after what happened earlier during the school day at lunch

it seems like all your advances in terms of trying to flirt with him was always flying over his head

even kenma, who sometimes didn’t pay attention to the conversation as he was too busy playing on his PSP, knew that you would often try and ask kuroo out

even if they were slightly sly and sometimes sounded like normal friendly hangouts, there were so many opportunities to turn it into sometimes, but kuroo was far too cloudy-minded to even spare that thought

but if kenma was being honest, the awkward tension between you and kuroo primarily started cause of him

he was the one who proposed the plan that you should try and make kuroo jealous. if he did have a negative reaction to you saying you liked someone else, then he liked you back. but if he didn’t, then no harm done!

honestly, it sounded like a plan and you deadass said it in the middle of lunch

you three were out in the courtyard eating your bentos when you suddenly said, “so there’s this guy i really like...”

and it immediately got kuroo’s attention

“who?” he immediately asked.

you feigned a smirk to appear on your lips as you simply shrugged to stay in the act, “just someone.” you swatted the thought away, “anyway, i’m just asking on how i should confess to them—”

“it’s yaku isn’t it?” kuroo suddenly concluded

“what? no—”

“then wHO?”

“someone who’s too stupid to see i have feelings for him!” you suddenly spew out.

kuroo’s eyes peered suspiciously at you, nodding as he turned away. “i see how it is, (y/n). i’d honestly like to meet this guy.”

“trust me, you already know.”

and perhaps that wasn’t the best thing to say as kuroo immediately started badgering you with annoying questions once again

throughout the entire day you had been rejecting to answer which basically leads to right now

you and kuroo alone at 2am in your room, sitting in awkward tension as kuroo literally refuses to leave unless you tell him who you liked

“at least give me their initials, (y/n)” the vb captain begged

“noPE!”

“please?” he continued to asked, “i’ll literally buy you all your favorite snacks, just tell me who!”

you roll your eyes, preparing to say no again, but the thought suddenly hits you

why was he so determined to know who you liked if he in fact, doesn’t have feelings for you?

“why do you care so much about who i like?” you suddenly asked

“c-cause i’m your best friend and i care about you!”

you peered your eyes at him, “kenma is also my best friend and cares about me, and yet you don’t hear him pestering me about my love life.”

you swore you saw the tiniest bit of pink blush on kuroo’s cheeks that perhaps his ears were tinted as well

he looked absolutely beautiful under the moonlight

a sigh left his lips, “because i want to be the only boy in your life.” (besides kenma, but he didn’t mention it cause it was just you and him)

you couldn’t help but feel a smile melt upon your visage, “then i guess it’s a good thing that you’re the one i like.”

— i. hajime

you and iwaizumi were staying after school as you two were on clean up duty

the hallways were pretty empty besides a few handfuls of students also cleaning classrooms or at club activities

it was just the usual, but you surely weren’t acting normal that even iwaizumi noticed

he’s one of your closest friends ever since middle school and you liked to believe that he considered you two best friends, but he usually minded his own business when it came to you

perhaps that’s what made you act so different around him

you weren’t the same (y/n) that would walk with him to and from school, the one who would eat every lunch with him and oikawa, the one who he wouldn’t have to worry about so much since oikawa was primarily his source of stress

but recently, that seemed to have transferred onto you ever since iwaizumi had been too preoccupied with oikawa and volleyball, that you making your feelings for him extremely obvious wasn’t enough

you two have been cleaning for about thirty minutes in (almost complete) silence

really, the only sound coming from the room was the clattering and squeaking of moving chairs and desks around to mop

iwaizumi wasn’t usually the one to get so fed up, especially with you

but this time was different

“so are you going to tell me what’s wrong or are you going to be childish and act like oikawa by giving me the silent treatment?” he starts and you immediately felt your body freeze, but immediately caught yourself and continued to clean

you hear him sigh defeated to which caused your body to turn towards him, “did i do something wrong?”

there was obvious hurt lacing his voice, that he perhaps jeopardized one of his closest friendships over something he didn’t know anything about

you were aware of this and immediately approached him, “you didn’t do anything wrong...” you hesitate as you didn’t know how to follow it up with, “i’m just being moody that’s all”

honestly, not your best excuse but it was workable

“then tell me what’s wrong, (y/n). i’m your best friend that’s what i’m supposed to do.”

and there it was. that look and attitude that made you fall in love with him in the first place

as if a huge wave just crashed upon you, your heartbeat intensified the moment you noticed how close you were to him

you gulped down your rising nerves, almost panicking as the words miraculously left your mouth. “i don’t think the guy i like likes me back.”

it was safe to say, that that definitely wasn’t what iwaizumi was expecting

if anything he was surprised and almost obligated as your best friend to comfort you in that moment, but he couldn’t help but feel almost betrayed

he knew he had no right to as he was nothing more than just a friend to you. so he swallowed his pride and nods with a faux smile on his lips

“it’s okay, (y/n). there’s so many other guys out there.”

then it came down like a sudden downpour, “but i only want you.”

“w-what?” it left his lips almost like a whisper as his eyes widened into saucers

“i’m talking about you, idiot.” you gently hit his hard chest, “but you obviously don’t like me back as you blatantly overlook what i say whenever i flirt with you."

“(y/n), i—”

you continued muttering in a hurried and embarrassed spiel that you didn’t even notice him trying to talk, “it’s okay, i’m ready for rejection, i just don’t want this to ruin our friendship—”

“it won’t because i literally like you too (y/n).” he finally cut in to say, taking you aback

“oh.” you say, still in shock, “cool.”

— o. tooru

you were in quite the predicament

rather than giving oikawa the silent treatment, he was giving it to you instead

basically, what happened was that perhaps you got a bit fed up with how popular oikawa was with girls and how they would often times flock him in packs sporadically throughout the day

and as if the world was out to get you, the packs of girls would always seem to come over whenever it was just you and oikawa alone

surely, from the three years you and oikawa had been friends, you’d assume that you’d get used to it

but you haven’t.

in the first two years of hs, you were pretty lenient and understanding and you truly didn’t mind it but now in your last and final year, you were tired of it

surely it didn’t help when that annoyance was fueled by your pent up feelings for oikawa in the past three years

the only reason why you hesitated to even say anything about your feelings was that you never really had the chance. with so many pretty people in and outside of aoba johsai, oikawa can be guaranteed a significant other within a snap

you felt easily replaceable, not to mention you definitely weren’t his first priority

he was too busy trying to get to nationals and to beat shiratorizawa that a relationship was the last thing on his mind

so here you two were, cleaning up the equipment in the gym in complete silence as volleyball practice had just finished as you were one of the managers

it had been like this for the past three days, being forced to physically interact, yet still not speaking to each other

like right now, you and oikawa were folding up the net neatly to eventually it got shorter and shorter that you and him had met closely in the middle

oikawa seemed to have paused the moment your hand made contact with his to make the final fold and that was when he completely broke

“ugh, i can’t take it anymore!” he exclaimed, shocking you slightly as you took the folded net from him. “i don’t get it (y/n), why can’t you just tell me who you like? i promise i’ll keep it secret!”

“be quiet,” you mutter as you turn your back towards him, “if you keep acting like this, i won’t tell you.”

he groaned once more, his feet dragging on the ground as he stumbled towards you. you froze under his touch the moment his rested his head on your shoulder.

“i just want to know cause i don’t want you to look at other guys.”

god, he was so fucking adorable

you hated to say it, but you gave into him and his charisma and how his easy words could have you complying

“fine,” you sigh, turning to face him. your breath hitched in your throat when you realize how close he was, “he’s on the volleyball team, he’s a third year—”

oikawa cut you off, “it’s iwaizumi isn’t it? i knew it! honestly, no offense to iwa, but i think i would make a better boyfriend, don’t you think?”

you couldn’t help but chuckle with a smile on your face, “you think so?”

“i know so.”

“well, fortunately for you, you’re the guy i really like.” you confessed, watching his expression brighten.

“so you made me go through three days of silent treatment just to finally date you?”

you shrug, asking, “was it worth it?” before being engulfed completely into a hug

“yes.”

a/n: this hasn’t been proofread if you couldn’t tell 👀

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trensu · 4 years

Text

Episode 10: The One with ANOTHER Moonlit Rooftop Moment

Still surrounded by dead bodies, guys. There is, unfortunately, an abundance of plot this time

But let’s slog through it BC OUR BOYS ARE WORTH IT

So right now we meet Xue Yang, Xiao Xingchen, and Song Lan

Love ya guys, but we’re not here for you today

(even tho xxc is the most beautiful elf prince of a boy i’ve ever seen; no wonder xy gets all obsessed with him and song lan falls in love)

(yes, song lan and xxc are in love, no i will not be taking comments)

Moving on!

Plot plot, xy and xxc have a sword fight, plot plot

Oooh, wait there is an itty bitty piece of WangXiantics here

Wwx uses his Magic Rope of Binding/Bonding to reel XY in like a fish and proceeds to yank him about while he tries to have a sword fight with xxc

(NO ONE’S ALLOWED TO HAVE ROMANTIC SWORD FIGHTS IN THE MOONLIGHT EXCEPT ME AND LWJ -- wwx, probably)

So he does this, and then throws a little grin at lwj and teases “lan zhan, are you still bored?”

Ahhh, wwx, you might as well have shouted: LAN ZHAN, DID YOU SEE WHAT I DID? WASN’T THAT CLEVER? ISN’T MY INVENTION USEFUL?? AREN’T YOU IMPRESSED???

It’s okay, we all got the message anyway

Except maybe lwj bc he is still a Disaster Gay™ even if he now knows he is In Love and Soulmate’d for Life

I’d like to pause a moment to let you all know that wwx has a HILARIOUS 'disgust' reaction to xy.

Xy is all captured and xxc is all CONFESS and xy is all yeah okay i killed all those guys and it was fun

Wwx’s face gets all twisted up like when you smell something rotten

AND THEN DOES A FULL-BODY TWITCH AWAY FROM XY LIKE HE’S TRYING NOT TO PHYSICALLY PUKE

IT’S SO FREAKING FUNNY

I mean i shouldn’t laugh bc that’s probably a reasonable reaction to a unhinged killer saying that murder is just a fun hobby of his, BUT GOD, I HAD TO REWIND AND SEE THAT REACTION PLAY OUT TWICE, I WAS CRACKING UP

Anyway

Xy is all tied up and captured and everybody talks plot stuff (after introducing themselves and doing the whole “wow, you’re awesome,” and “no, no, you’re awesome” thing)

Xy laughs because he’s a murderous lunatic and wwx is like “what’s so funny asshole”

Wwx is def posturing here

I think he’s threatened bc they have similar sense of fashion

Like, hell no, this murderous bastard is not gonna steal MY look

HE’S GIVING BLACK ROBES A BAD RAP, I WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS!!

Lwj: Give us the Plot Device

Xy: idk what you’re talking about bro. I just came out here to have a good time and attack people right now

Wwx: lan zhan, don’t bother talking to him!!

Yeah, wwx is DEFINITELY feeling threatened lol

Like, omg why is lwj listening to this guy? Why did he get closer to him and start talking to him? LWJ HE’S NOT AS PRETTY AS ME!! I LOOK BETTER IN BLACK ROBES, LWJ, STOP LOOKING AT HIM

Wwx: i’ll search him, here hold my sword

Lwj: *pointedly does not reach for wwx’s sword*

None of this is a euphemism guys, get your minds out of the gutter

Wwx: right right, i can search him AND hold my sword at the same time, nbd nbd

Wwx: *proceeds to molest xy*

and in that moment, all of us suddenly wished to be a murderous lunatic

Xy: woah there, mr. handsy, people will talk!!

Wwx: bro, i am the KING of gay chicken, don’t try me

MEANWHILE, lwj is watching all this go down very intently

WHATCHA LOOKING AT LWJ

WHAT’S THE MATTER

R U JEALOUS RN??

‘Nooo, that’s supposed to ME under wwx’s sexy wandering hands’ --lwj, probably

we feel your pain, bro

So that’s the first wangxian moment of the episode

Lwj being jealous again

Altho to be fair, i mean, anybody would be miffed watching their soulmate feel up someone Not Them, right?

Right.

Plot plot plotty NHS and Meng Yao appear conveniently plotty plot plot

Xxc and SL get invited to Qinghe to witness Justice Get Served to XY

Xxc: yeah no, we’re not doing that. Clan politics not really our scene

Xxc: we prefer to be alone together and travel the world, right, boyfriend, i mean Song Lan?

SL: *is handsome and stoic*

Then wwx has a Same Hat moment

Wwx: OH, US TOO, ME AND LAN ZHAN DO THAT TOO

Lwj: you should give us your contact details

Lwj: in case we need you.

Lwj: for stuff.

LOOK AT LWJ BEING ALL SOCIABLE

I’M SO PROUD OF YOU BB

(he really did ask them how to reach them tho)

Lwj rightfully saw xxc & SL and thought, now there’s a gay couple i can bond with

Then the group splits up with XXC and SL go their own way

I mention this because we get a shot of LWJ staring longingly at the pair of them as they walk off

You know why?

You all know why

IT’S BC HE’S DAYDREAMING OF HIM AND WWX DOING WHAT THEY DO

JUST TRAVELING TOGETHER AND PUTTING GOOD INTO THE WORLD

*SOBSOB*

And then WWX breaks the daydream with a simple “let’s go?” and lwj just turns around and follows him with barely a pause

BC HE LOVES WWX AND WILL GO ANYWHERE HE WANTS!!!!

We arrive at the Unclean Realm for Plot Reasons

Plot plot, NMJ makes a Badass Entrance, jc & wwx fanboy over him, plot

More plot stuff

More non-wangxian stuff

So much non-wangxian stuff

Why, show, why

Foreshadowing Plot Stuff

AND WE’RE AT THE 30 MINUTE MARK OF THE EPISODE WHEN WE FINALLY GET A SUBSTANTIAL WANGXIAN SCENE

OH GOD, IT TOOK SO LONG

I ALMOST DIDN’T MAKE IT GUYS

BUT HERE I AM!!!

Okay, okay *deep breath* we’re good now

WWX IS ON A ROOF!!

RIGHT NEXT TO LWJ’S ROOM!!!

Bc he’s drunk and can’t find his way back to his own rooms so he thought sleeping on the roof was a good option?? JOIN A HELP GROUP, WWX

LWJ was peacefully meditating in his room and when there arose such a clatter that he had to grab bichen and was ready to cut a bitch

But just kidding! bc he hears wwx’s voice and immediately relaxes

Wwx: these roof tiles are much rougher than the ones in gusu, so rocky, so uncomfy

He says this as if it was done to purposely inconvenience him specifically

Again, he’s drunk here guys

But he’s a poetic drunk!!

Wwx: the world is a room, i’ll take the sky as my quilt and the ground as my bed

A very pretty way of saying I CAN’T FIND MY ROOM, GUESS I’LL SLEEP OUTSIDE

Wwx then shows us that he can’t drink properly from a jar of wine and just pours it into his mouth and sloshes half of it down his neck and on his clothes

Ooooh, but that’s a nice shot of his jawline

And oooh, his neck’s all glistening now

I APPROVE

I APPROVE VERY MUCH

And then ~THEIR SONG~ STARTS PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND as lwj exits his rooms and walks outside to see wwx lounging on the rooftop like a particularly handsome raccoon or smth

Wwx: lan zhan, i’ll sleep on your roof tonight *passes out drunk but in a ridiculously cute way*

FOR REAL, HE JUST SPRAWLS OUT ON THE ROOF AND THEN ~GENTLY~ LEANS HIS HEAD ON HIS HIS HAND AND DRIFTS OFF ANGELICALLY

STOP BEING SO CUTE WWX

LWJ: wei ying, i have to go

He says SOFTLY and with LOVE and then PROCEEDS TO ABANDON HIS SOULMATE TO GO OFF AND DO STUPID PLOT THINGS

But guys, it was still beautiful

He says that and EVERYTHING goes all slo-mo as he walks away

I mean, the shot of him walking away is done so that we can see wwx perched on the rooftop above him and lwj does that stately strut he has

And then the camera gives us a shot of wwx’s face as the WIND GENTLY RUSTLES HIS HAIR

STILL IN SLO MO

WITH ~THEIR SONG~

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Ugh gross, this beautiful scene is followed up by that wen chao

Plot plot

Suddenly a wen vs. nie battle is happening

For Plot Reasons, blegh

Omg so many Dramatic Twirls everywhere

Okay, okay, unfortunately we gotta listen to Wen Chao for a moment to get a breadcrumb’s worth of wangxian here

Wc: hey, wwx, since you’re ~sooo~ interested in GusuLan stuff, let me tell you something

Wc: *proceeds to brag about his big brother destroying the cloud recesses*

(even the bad guys know wwx and lwj are obsessed with each other, YOU’RE NOT SUBTLE BOYS)

Wc: if lwj manages to make it home, he’s gonna find it in ruins!!

(seriously FUCK THIS GUY)

Wwx: *the most ferocious glare we’ve seen him do so far*

Looks like somebody just won first place in wwx’s shit list

Then more plot stuff happens, we see nmj and meng yao break up, blah blah blah

And that’s the end of ep10!!!

This was...so hard, guys. So difficult. A trial, even. I had to wait for an ENTIRE HALF-HOUR TO GET A SIGNIFICANT PIECE OF WANGXIAN PIE.

I mean, yeah, i got to see xxc’s beautiful face, but GOD, AT WHAT COST??

Also, are you guys starting to notice a Thing about rooftops?

Because it’s there.

We’re def gonna have more Rooftop Moments

Stay tuned!

Return to Masterpost

#WangXiantics #the untamed #wangxian

67 notes · View notes

xlady-saya · 4 years

Text

I want this touch to be familiar [Ch. 4]

Relationships: andrew/neil, side aaron/katelyn

Summary: Deep down, Andrew knew he would always reach this crossroads, a time where the thought became too strong to ignore.

Going all the way with Neil. It’s not something he can continue to avoid thinking about. When Andrew looks back to the days where he held Neil’s hands down, when he never got off with him in the same room, he’s forced to acknowledge how much he’s allowed.

Not allowed. Welcomed. Wanted.

But that’s not all there is to it, and the desire to make a decision finally makes itself known.

Tags: first time fic, p*rn with feelings, relationship study, fluff and communication, multichapter

Read on ao3!

The second time they try is perhaps worse than the first, in that the interruption doesn't come from either of them.

Part of Andrew, the small part which sometimes wonders if there is some eternal being running the show, would love nothing more than to fight them for making his life like this.

It's even more irritating because the second time, he's ready. He's more than ready.

He's burning.

Andrew slams the door to their dorm room shut so hard the wall shakes. His free hand, the one not tangled in Neil's hair, locks it without a second thought. The sound of it clicking into place is like a starting gun, telling him they're alone, it's just them.

He can do whatever he wants.

He expects his hands to be clammy, unsure, but he hasn't moved with so much purpose in a long time, and certainly not for his own benefit.

Neil's breathy laugh is quickly turned into a gasp when Andrew locks their lips together, the desperate smacks bouncing off the walls. Kissing shouldn't feel this mind-blowing; Andrew's done it thousands of times, but when Neil moans into his mouth, it coaxes out all of Andrew's primal urges. The striker pins his tongue down, guides Andrew's hands to the curve of his back, telling Andrew to take. He growls against Neil's lips for the trick, but gives in anyway. Neil is just too much, offered willingly, wantonly.

He grabs handfuls of Neil's ass, pulling him flush to his body, showing off his strength. The cotton leggings are soft, thin, and Andrew pulls at the fabric to stretch it. He's been building up to this since this morning, when he watched Neil slowly pull the offensive pants over the curve of his ass.

Class afterwards had been interesting.

Andrew pulls Neil up a little higher; the striker's feet don't touch the floor, held completely. It's what Neil likes, though he's never said it. He knows Andrew can hold him up, dependable.

Neil doesn't even startle, just throws his head back from the promise of it. A mess already, both of them.

This time, there's no question about it. Andrew is rock hard in his jeans, trying not to hump Neil's leg for friction. There's more he wants to do, more they've been waiting to do.

Andrew's mind runs a mile a minute, but not with second guessing or caution from before.

It's clear, his mind is so clear. The desire to take is there, but there's no guilt or shame with it. Because Neil wants it, Neil's going to give. Andrew only feels pure, unsullied longing.

He acts on it, before it has the chance to leave him again.

He slams Neil against the wall, and the striker moans, like he's grateful for it. Strong legs wrap around Andrew's back after a rushed yes, pulling him impossibly close. He wonders if Neil is really afraid of Andrew leaving him in this state; it would be a sight to see Neil whining like that...

Neil's practically vibrating with excitement, rutting forward already as he kicks off his shoes. The clatter of them behind him sends Andrew's heart rate into a frenzy, it's nearly unacceptable.

He doesn't have time to correct it, when Neil looks like this. He can only feel want. The blue in Neil's eyes is wiped out, and Andrew wants to trace the scars on his face, flushed from their exertion.

Neil has other ideas; his shaking hands paw at Andrew's jacket, willing it off, and Andrew nearly smirks. He can't though, because he's just as bad right then.

He pulls Neil's hoodie off, ruffling his hair, and his hands are everywhere after that. He presses them along Neil's ribs, his collar bones, stopping to roll one of his nipples between his fingers. Neil keens from the attention, but his lidded eyes find the bulge in Andrew's pants quickly. Neil never likes to be the only one feeling good, not these days, when Andrew so willingly lets him reciprocate. "Andrew, I want--"

Andrew silences him with a harsh kiss, pinching the nub between his fingers.

Neil almost looks offended when Andrew moves away, but then his eyes widen, pulled into submission by Andrew's low tone.

If Andrew ever does admit he likes Neil's legs, it'll be the day Neil has to admit he has a thing for Andrew's voice.

"I know what you want," Andrew states, a vow. Right then, Neil wants to be taken apart, but more than that...

He wants to share this, finally, after all their talking and the memory of their first attempt. They're going to try again, and for once the possibility of failure isn't nearly as daunting. No matter what...

"It always feels good, when we lose control."

Andrew forces himself to think for a moment, his hands reaching back down to cup Neil's thighs. He can't help but squeeze, and a little gentler, Andrew lifts Neil to move them to the bed. As tempting as wall sex might sound in his head, this is still their first time.

No discomfort, no navigating more than they have to.

Neil seems to understand this, and goes slack in Andrew's arms, mouthing at his neck lazily.

The air in the room feels frantic, but it doesn't stop the wave of calm that hits them both. Andrew sets Neil down, and the striker's body creates space for him, pulling him forward so they're locked together. There's a pause as Neil falls onto his back, an infinite moment locked away in the second their eyes meet.

Neil's attempt to fight off a smile is pathetic, and he taps the side of Andrew's face by his eye. There's no blood or bruising there this time. It's as if to test Andrew is real, that this is happening.

Andrew breathes in shakily at the feeling which hits him, not knowing where to place it. The spectrum of emotions was locked away for so long, but this...he doesn't think it would be easy to place in any situation.

He's reluctant to pull away, but Neil only squirms excitedly when he does. He knows. Andrew grabs the book bag at the foot of the bed, emptying it haphazardly. The condoms fall on top of Neil, and Andrew swallows around the lump in his throat. It's terrible, what the sight does to him, like he's some teenage boy. Neil takes it in stride though, grabbing one and eyeing the reflective packaging with intensity.

So easy to read in moments like this.

Neil holds one of the condoms in front of his face, eyeing Andrew teasingly, like he can hear his thoughts. It's annoying, but it doesn't stop the traitorous part of Andrew from wondering how many of these they'd be able to go through...

"You can see me this time," Neil breathes, and Andrew stills. It’s a throwaway statement to anyone else, unnecessary, clunky. It relieves any last dredges of tension Andrew might have.

Oh, he can see alright. Neil is on his back, in front of Andrew, no room to miss the yearning or lust in his features. The striker brushes his bangs aside, like they're obstructive, and the feeling from before overflows back in Andrew's chest. Neil is so giddy about it, and the softness in the words threatens to choke Andrew. He grabs Neil's face with both hands, like he almost can't believe it.

They're not making the same mistake, it won't be like last time.

"I can," he echoes, not knowing what else he can do. This is troublesome he knows, the fact something so ridiculous can make him feel at ease. He searches his mind for hesitation, for any reason to not do this. He’s not able to stop, it's in his nature to look for the snag, but he finds none.

So he moves forward.

Andrew's hips slot against Neil's ass, and he feels the striker's entire body shiver. With a glare, he tugs at the fabric of Neil's leggings, ruined by his eager hands.

Whoever bought Neil these things can die. They're stirrup leggings, the dark fabric stretching down past his ankles to hook around his feet. They match Neil's new style of armbands, the ones that snake a little further down his arm's than Andrew's.

Allison is the most likely culprit he realizes, since the coordination was obviously made with some care.

She's going to pay.

"You like them," Neil states, a fact. He wears them on purpose, they both know it, like how Andrew started wearing more tank tops to the gym.

Despite that, he pinches Neil's thigh, relishing in the jolt.

"Admit you wear them just to be a nuisance," Andrew dodges the admission, as if it helps.

Neil's grin proves it. "When you admit you like how they make my ass look."

But well, that will never happen. Andrew sees no point in admitting the obvious.

He slides his hands over the fabric leisurely, hooking his fingers into the waistband. It's almost a shame he's two seconds from ripping the damn things to shreds if only to get Neil naked faster. Andrew's fingers twitch at the promise, and he sees the moment Neil sits up in anticipation for it. He knows what comes next.

Greedy, aren't we?

"Can we--" Neil starts, and his pants aren't even off.

"Yes Neil," Andrew sighs, as if it's a chore for him. He pushes the leggings and Neil's underwear down in one fluid movement, quick enough to make Neil gasp. It's a direct contradiction to his bored tone, he knows, but Neil likes it. "I'm going to fuck you with my fingers."

Neil's pupils dilate like a starving animal. Andrew regards him with a raised eyebrow; when he'd first suspected Neil would love the feeling of Andrew's fingers inside him, he hadn't anticipated how much. In the days since their first try, it's been the preferred way to get off. He can't judge Neil, when Andrew had been curious to experiment with it anyways. He’s not sick of it, making Neil come untouched, watching him writhe and push against Andrew's hand. Neil's never been shameless when it comes to those things. It’s especially apparent now that there’s no death sentence over his head. Plus, Andrew won't exploit his weaknesses.

So, when Neil enjoys something, he enjoys it for all it's worth. Andrew's pretty sure the shape of his fingers is imprinted inside Neil at this point, with how ridiculous they've been about it.

Briefly, Andrew wonders if after they go through with this his sex drive will finally calm down. It would make sense.

Right now though, his mind always circles back around to it. How to feel good, how to make Neil feel better.

Andrew presses down on Neil's perineum, watching Neil tense up with want. "You'll have to be good and not come this time though," he reminds, breathing the words into Neil's warm skin.

He'd rather not overstimulate Neil to that extent, though it's an intriguing thought.

With a huff of a laugh, Neil presses his foot down on Andrew's thigh, near where his cock strains in his jeans. "The same to you."

Andrew can't wait anymore.

"Be useful," he says, pushing the condom back into Neil's hands while he finds the bottle of lube.

"Jerk," Neil says without any heat, but he doesn't go to tear the condom open. That's the thing with Neil, if he's fixated on something he can't move on. His hand hovers over Andrew's groin, questioning. "Andrew--"

"Yes," Andrew growls, and Neil continues to surprise him with how fast he can move.

Neil flings Andrew's belt to the floor, and his pants are down before he can revel in the relief of it. He winces from the cool air on his cock, his body grateful.

Neil is so considerate of Andrew's needs it's infuriating, and yet Andrew's body reacts so well for him.

Neil slides a pillow underneath himself, too eager, but Andrew realizes he's already scooting forward with need.

And still, there's nothing wrong, nothing in the air telling him to stop.

There's just...them.

Neil seems to sense this too, even as Andrew's fingers pause at his entrance, intent clear. He brings Andrew lower, so he can feel all his body heat, the ghost of what's to come.

Weight, heat, fullness.

They stop, breathe, take each other in. Neil's eyes are...Andrew doesn't have a word for them. He should be upset, and yet he can't find the emotion. It doesn't apply.

Neil takes the bottle from Andrew's hand and uncaps it, tongue sliding over his kiss swollen lips. "Okay?"

He can't sound this wrecked already. And what kind of question is that?

Andrew glares, and then kisses him, unable to help it. "Yes," he says, and a few seconds later he presses two coated fingers into Neil's body, refusing to ignore the way Neil's legs spread for him, impatient.

"Fuck," Neil moans, drawing the syllables out like he can't believe how good it is. He clenches around Andrew's fingers, hand tightening on his shoulder. Andrew's cock leaks a little at the way Neil's hips twitch, and he wants to suck a mark into the bone, dig his thumb into it...

Neil's so damn hot inside. As if feeling Andrew' control slipping, Neil reaches down to pump at his cock, smearing the precum on the shaft. Neil throws his head back with another curse, reaching for the condom and tearing it open. Andrew's mind goes haywire, letting Neil sit up to slide the condom on.

Yes, Andrew's mind yells, beats against his skull. The swarm from before is back, like they've been lurking, waiting to finally get what they wanted from the start.

Andrew pulls his fingers out; they've been doing this enough, Neil's already stretched, Andrew can slide right in and--

There's a loud thump on the door, like the sound of a gunshot. They both lock up, the bubble around them violently popped. Andrew's thoughts come to a screeching halt, the swarm stilling.

They react instantly, the product of paranoia from different outlets. It's disgusting how predictable they are; Andrew's first instinct is to cover Neil's body with his own, a shield from the threat. The knives in his armbands feel extra heavy, calling him. In the same vein, Neil shoots up, as if to push Andrew away from the line of fire.

The need to protect, to guard what's theirs.

The illusion of danger is quickly shattered though, when they hear Kevin's voice. "Guys! Why is the door locked? You better not be doing anything! We're supposed to be at the court!"

The knob of the room rattles obnoxiously, like Kevin might actually break it. Neil's brow furrows as he looks over at Andrew, as if to ask if he's hearing right. It's Kevin; not a madman, or a mafia gangster. Kevin. They both share a look of realization, one that quickly dissolves into a glare. Neil's expression goes from shock to pure, unadulterated annoyance.

"Fuck off Day!" Andrew barks, shocked by his own tone. Kevin balks from behind the door, and Andrew curses himself. He hates when he gives too much away of how he actually feels, even though he's been working through that. The urge to appear uncaring would usually still be a crutch he falls back on, but in this case it doesn't stand a chance.

He's pissed.

Neil is naked in his arms, two seconds away from being fucked into the mattress, and Andrew does not like being interrupted.

But it isn't that Kevin is stupid, he's simply that much of a perfectionist with a hardhead. Like always, he steamrolls through the clear warning with another harsh knock. "Fuck no, Andrew you told me you'd drive me tonight! You gave me your word!"

Neil makes a small choking noise when Andrew tenses.

Shit, Andrew did say that. His memory now finds it appropriate to remind him of the promise, as well as the time of day. He knew he had to take Kevin to practice in the evening because of how much the other kept complaining about their stats, but he’d also planned for this alone time with Neil. He'd lost track of time.

Andrew never loses track of time.

"No," Neil whines, falling onto his back with a huff. Andrew's not sure if he's talking about the situation or Kevin's whole existence. Andrew's not sure he's ever in the history of knowing Neil seen him look so upset about the prospect of playing exy.

It's unheard of, and doesn't help the erection still leaking onto the bed.

Andrew can't move, his mind and body in a stalemate. He can't kill Kevin, that's off the table. He gave his word, it's on him, but...

"Let's go," Kevin yells with a final bang of his fist, his footsteps stomping down the hallway with an air of royal decree. Finality.

Dread creeps into Andrew's veins, and he looks down at Neil to see the feeling reflected in his actual expression. Neil doesn't cry, at least he hasn't let himself yet, not even after Baltimore. But ...he's upset. Those blue eyes waver a little, throwing his head back in restlessness.

Andrew wants to scold him for being so dramatic, tell him it's not a big deal, but the words wouldn't be genuine.

Andrew hates this.

Neil whimpers, but even Andrew can see he knows. He knows they have to go. Neil clings to Andrew's forearms a little tighter, as if grounding himself in the moment, cherishing the last few seconds of it.

Andrew has never wanted to stay somewhere so bad before; Neil's arms are a death sentence he realizes, because he'd waste away here without a second thought.

Neil's legs tremble from the excitement still coursing through him, and Andrew lets a grunt slip when he feels the striker's ankles knock against his back.

He can't handle it. He won't be able to go.

"Andrew..." Neil whispers, and Andrew leans down in a split second to press his forehead against Neil's. It's a firm touch, almost harsh. A warning. The silver cigarette around his neck hangs down, lingering over Neil's throat.

"Don't," Andrew snaps, swallowing around the anger. He closes his eyes; Neil's are too intense, too strong right then. Calling him, lulling him. He inhales sharply, another mistake. All his senses react to Neil. "Don't do that."

I can't stop myself when you do.

Neil shivers; it's the opposite of Andrew's usual 'stay.' Because they can't, Andrew can't be tempted to. They sit there for another few seconds, unwilling to move, unable to touch more for fear of falling back into it.

Andrew nearly growls as he pulls himself away harshly, trudging towards the bathroom to try and get rid of his problem.

Behind him, he hears Neil throw a pillow to the floor. "Goddammit."

They're especially brutal at night practice.

Andrew can't resist playing; he denies every single one of Kevin's shots to the goal, and sends them far down the court each time. Kevin's practically drenched in sweat from how much Andrew is making him run, but it's not the only retribution he's receiving.

Neil is fast, faster than Kevin when he wants to be, and he intercepts every shot he can. It's a coordinated attack; they're not letting Kevin have the ball if they can help it.

For how peeved they both are, it doesn't feel like enough. Andrew isn't supposed to believe in revenge, but this isn't it he reassures himself.

It's simply justice.

Kevin curses loudly when one of Andrew's returns nearly clips his ankle. Andrew doesn't think he's ever been this ruthless at a practice, and Neil rebounds a ball a little too close to Kevin's head about five minutes later.

Andrew tries not to get too distracted by Neil's stupid determination, or his panting.

Panting. Because of exy, because they're at the court and not in bed.

Andrew's next shot rings like a bullet against the plexiglass.

By the end of it, they're all exhausted, but Kevin can barely walk. All that Raven training, for what again?

Andrew glares at him as he takes off his helmet, and oh, as if the night couldn't get more aggravating.

Kevin smiles like an idiot. "See? If you guys practiced like this all the time, we'd be unstoppable!"

Silence descends over the stadium, and Andrew is all too happy to break it before he breaks something else.

He throws his racquet on the floor, much to Kevin's horror, and stomps back to the locker room with Neil close behind.

Later that week, they have their usual lunch with Katelyn and Aaron. It's not normally a chatty affair on his end, Katelyn tends to take up most of it, filling Neil in on things and instigating petty arguments between him and Aaron.

She'll never admit she does it, Andrew figured it out. He's not about to comment on Katelyn being an instigator, since that's exactly what Neil is.

Neil. Andrew grits his teeth at the dangerous train of thought, even with the striker right next to him. Neil is usually pressed against him when they sit together, but today there's a noticeable gap.

Intentional. Probably smart considering how wound up they are.

Andrew, to channel the itch in his veins, has been assembling a card tower for the past ten minutes. He's not sure if Neil is fixating so hard on him because he's impressed, or because he's imagining what other things Andrew's hands can do. Could be doing.

Either way, Andrew almost has four levels.

"Hand me another deck," he grumbles, and Neil smiles, already having opened the next one. Their fingers brush, and an urge spikes that's entirely removed from sex. Holding Neil's hand has become routine too, something to stabilize him, and he craves it. Right then, he’d probably break his fingers though, with how coiled he is, so best to not.

Andrew holds his breath and adds a card. The tower wavers.

Katelyn's chatter is missing, unheard of. The slow slurp of her soda is the only thing audible, grating on Andrew. He wonders if she knows it is. Her stare burns; Andrew doesn't dare look at her, though he's sure she's being so analytical because she's noticed how Aaron is staring at them.

Ah yes, it seems his twin is being observational today. He should really save it for his science classes.

The gaze is shifty, suspecting, and it's setting Andrew on edge by the second. His brother is so obvious, but Andrew can't pinpoint why. When he flicks his gaze up to his twin's, the curiosity too much, Aaron's eyes squint rather than dart away. Like he knows something.

But he can't, right?

Even if he did, there's no way he would bring it up. They have a silent agreement to never mention their sex lives after the time they ran into each other at the school convenience store in the condom aisle, looked at each other, and promptly walked away.

So yes, Aaron will keep his mouth shut to keep the peace, but Andrew still can't remember when he agreed to be this easily read.

Andrew returns to his cards, convinced that's the end of it. Neil starts to squirm beside him again, and Andrew resists rolling his eyes. He's already had to squeeze Neil's thigh three times to get him to stop.

Neil keeps his lips pressed together, keeping that mouth under control, a rare event.

It's a short-lived relief.

"Well, you two are antsy."

The whole table tenses, and Aaron wheezes.

The tower in front of Andrew crashes down, poetic, and he scowls at the remains of the battlefield.

Oh, right. Ignoring Katelyn's existence is starting to be a mistake, since she can be just as blunt as Neil. At the most random times too. The difference is with her it's often an accident, and it's followed up by strings of apologies reinforced by a sheltered suburban childhood.

Neil just doesn't give a fuck.

On cue, Katelyn blushes up to her ears, choking on her cola and waving her hands in front of her face. "No omg, I didn't mean--I'm so sorry!"

But well, too late.

Aaron strides on in spite of his girlfriend's muttering, seemingly set on taking advantage of the broken ice. Andrew looks around; he can't use his knives on his brother but all he has after that is a plastic spork.

Aaron leans forward on his elbows, like he always does when he's about to tell Andrew something potentially troublesome. It's more common now, since they actually talk about things, but it puts Andrew on alert anyways. This is not Bee’s office.

"Yeah..." Aaron muses, glancing between Neil and Andrew slowly. "Are you guys...fighting?"

And it's not said in concern, or disbelief, which makes Andrew suspicious from the get go. Aaron poses the question like it's one of a few possibilities, like he's narrowing Andrew's mood down like a multiple choice question.

Like he's seen this before.

Andrew glares at him before turning to Neil, a silent exchange. Neil's expression is akin to a shrug; great, he has no idea.

The confusion between them is palpable, but it's Neil who finally turns back to Aaron with a raised brow. "No? Why would we be?" Neil asks, and well...there's a lot of things they could've expected.

None of them match the reaction they actually get.

Aaron retches instantly, startling even Katelyn. She jumps in her seat, watching Aaron double over.

"Ah gross," Aaron says with his head in his hands, scowling at them a second later. "This is some weird sex thing. Go away."

Neil blanches at the same time Katelyn sputters, but Andrew keeps his face impassive. He won't give his brother the satisfaction of knowing he's right, but the fact he is makes Andrew even more annoyed than before.

"How--" Neil says, because why would he deny it like any other person? Andrew needs to push the whole table off a cliff. Neil really needs to sharpen up his lying skills too, if he's going to expose them like this.

Katelyn better watch her back too; the twins are not in the business of being this close. He will give it to Aaron though, he rendered Neil speechless. A true feat.

Andrew stares at Aaron, who scowls back, a standoff. These four second fights are becoming normal too.

There's a steady agreement reached in those four precious seconds: let's pretend this never happened.

The condom aisle all over again.

Aaron pushes his tray away, grabbing Katelyn's hand. "No way am I explaining how I know, you guys always do this! I hate you..."

And yes, Andrew's had enough. He steadfastly ignores Aaron's statement that he ever shows this much too. He doesn't. "Eat shit and die."

"Don't mind if I do!"

"...."

Katelyn's face twists in confusion, but recovers long enough to wave at Neil, oblivious to it all. She's an enigma. She must be somewhat strong too, because she resists Aaron's tug for a few seconds. It's like he's trying to pull a boulder with dental floss.

Social etiquette is a hell of a drug.

"We'll just...leave you guys to it, have fun!" Katelyn says, and Aaron retches again from behind her. Andrew really has to do it, he realizes. He has to kill them both. Katelyn's face turns as red as a tomato, jaw opening and closing. "But not like...that way, or yes do? You deserve it!"

Andrew hates her.

"Babe..." Aaron whines behind her, probably wishing the Earth would swallow him up. Another thing they have in common on this fine day.

Katelyn smiles as she's dragged away, winking. "See you...someday!"

The whole thing is over and done in less than two minutes, and yes, Andrew was counting. He rubs his neck, expecting pain from the whiplash that was the conversation he was forced to endure.

He watches Aaron haul ass across campus from afar, and knows they'll be back playing video games together later that night.

It's the nature of things now.

Beside him, Neil bangs his head against the table with an anguished groan. He keeps his face hidden, but Andrew reaches forward to tug on his earlobe.

Drama queen.

"I hate them," Neil mutters, an echo of Andrew's thoughts. He can't see him, but he's sure Neil can feel his agreeing nod.

With a sigh, Andrew starts on a new card tower. "At least you're not related to one of them."

And well, Neil couldn't compete with that if he tried.

One of the traditions which stuck after Baltimore, and perhaps one of the only things Andrew let Neil dwell on, was the giant pile the foxes made around him the night after.

The impromptu sleepover had been one of the only times Andrew allowed himself to sleep so close to others, bordered on both sides. At the time, Neil had needed him more, and Andrew would've been next to him even if they were dangling over a ledge. His need to protect had been on the fritz, his heart unable to calm down at the thought of losing Neil, of letting him out of his sight ever again.

So naturally, his fear and distrust of others had been a non-issue. He hadn't had the space in his head to think about it. Plus, he isn't and never was afraid of the foxes.

Annoyed by them is another feeling entirely.

Once a month, Nicky makes them build a pillow fort in the common area and forces them to watch trashy movies. Aaron won't say no because Katelyn often comes, and the rest of them use it as an excuse to get drunk and rag on Nicky's tastes in films.

Neil stares at Andrew, Andrew tries not to stare back, and it ends up with them all passed out in varying positions, Neil squeezed next to Andrew as they hog the couch.

It's routine, as much as Andrew hates to admit it. He never meant to become so used to the gatherings, or attend them at all, but they've begun to grate on his nerves less.

Neil never misses a single one, and Andrew can't avoid it.

But, none of them are engineering majors, and therefore don't possess the architectural skills to make a long standing pillow fort. Andrew also refuses to help.

Therefore, the pieces of furniture they move around to make it work only end up creating fire hazards and traps for those who need to get up at any point to piss. Typically, they end up toppled over in a mess of sheets and pillows the next day, and stay there.

It's pathetic, really, like toddlers are behind it.

Currently, Andrew and Neil are lying down in the graveyard of blankets that was once their shitty tent. Andrew already knows it won't get cleaned up for days, not until one of them actually trips over something. Andrew's certainly not going to help with that either.

The other foxes must've had the same idea, since they're nowhere to be found.

'Well, I think it's time for brunch,' Allison had said before the rest of the hungover team followed her out.

Only Neil and Andrew decided to stay behind, on account of Neil's forgotten math homework he needed to get done.

Andrew really should've known.

He stares up at the ceiling, listening to the offbeat tap of Neil's pencil against his textbook. They're on Andrew's comforter, or maybe he should call it their comforter. They rarely sleep separately these days. Even the nights where Andrew needs the space, he'll wake up with an itch eventually, like something is off.

Perhaps that's why he feels this way right then; there's an untrustworthy feeling of calm. It's not something he ever liked in the past, because it was always followed by some kind of calamity, danger. Yet when he looks ahead, he finds nothing looming on the horizon. The sheets Matt taped to the walls block out the sun from the windows, and the calm only intensifies.

But, Neil is next to him, so it makes sense. He hates that it makes sense, and as steely as his memory is, he can't pinpoint when that happened.

It's fitting, that it would happen in a moment like this. It should also feel like a slap in the face, that with all their planning, all their anticipation, it would happen on a random, lazy afternoon, when the question isn't even in the air. It isn't even on their minds.

"I just think if there was an apocalypse math would come in handy," Neil says in the middle of their faux argument. Andrew won't admit to liking it, but he provokes Neil when he can, pokes and prods because it gets Neil's attention.

Not that Andrew needs Neil's attention...he's bored is all.

Insulting math is a sure fire way to get Neil in his teasing mood, sending them down a rabbit hole. All Andrew had said was that math was dumb, but now they're back on the zombie topic like it's second nature. They've fleshed it out so many times, yet there's never an unlimited amount of questions to be asked.

Last week they'd spent about thirty minutes debating on when survivors would run out of gasoline, and where the best sources would be.

Neil's smile is lazy as he rests his chin on his hand, waiting for Andrew to fire back.

Andrew leans over with sigh, put upon as he circles a random answer on Neil's homework. He doesn't get the problem, but he knows it's the wrong answer. He circles it in pen. "Neil, what did I say about trying to convince me about the pros of calculus?"

It's not going to happen.

Neil hums thoughtfully, and Andrew knows the striker's memory isn't that bad. "That if I did you'd kill me?"

Neil rests his head on his textbook, work momentarily forgotten, and has the nerve to wink.

Andrew throws the pen at him. "And yet..."

Honestly, even looking at all the numbers makes him want to gag.

Neil flops down onto his back, blowing his bangs out of his face. They need to be cut, Andrew realizes, and resists the urge to tie them back. He doesn't realize he's moving to see Neil's face more clearly until he's rolled over on his side, face above Neil's. It's their usual dance, one Andrew tries so hard to refrain from. A push and pull, so their jagged edges manage to fit together even under this failed fortress. Neil looks up at Andrew with that same cheeky grin. "That's such a you threat though, you won’t do it."

It's statements like that which will make Andrew actually go through with it one of these days.

He leans down with a glare, and the cigarette pendant around his neck hits Neil in the nose.

"Doubting me will be your downfall," Andrew reminds, and he can almost predict the moment Neil is going to bite his lip to suppress his smile. Goddamn Pavlovian response.

"You'd miss me too much," Neil states breezily, grabbing the necklace and fiddling with it. Neil's so confident about it now; Andrew remembers how in the past, he'd refrain from saying anything like that, unsure of how Andrew really felt, because Andrew wouldn't even admit it.

Sometimes he still can't, but the difference is...Neil knows.

Andrew scoffs, grabbing the math textbook Neil is using as a pillow and dangling it above their heads. Neil's head hits the floor and he yelps, eyes trained on his precious work. It's not a far reach, but Andrew's stronger than Neil, and he keeps it out of his grasp easily.

Neil flies up to lunge for it, fast as lightning, and Andrew keeps his shoulder pinned to the floor.

"H-hey!" Neil says through his laughter, and Andrew will give him credit, he tries hard. He just doesn't succeed. After failing to push up against Andrew's hold, Neil goes for the squirmy approach, wriggling enough that Andrew has to actually push some of his weight onto him to keep him down. He looks for any signs of discomfort, of panic; he knows Neil's history with being tied down, unable to run.

But, it's not a day clouded by bad memories. Neil only laughs harder in Andrew's bored face, twisting violently to reach for his shitty, overpriced textbook.

Neil doesn't even take care of the damn thing, the edges are frayed, pages falling out. It's nothing less than he deserves.

But not once does he tell Andrew to stop. Neil snorts, limbs flopping to the floor in a pathetic defeat. He's trying to scowl, but when Andrew is around, Neil's lying skills are null. Useless.

Giggles fade away into light huffs of breath, and Andrew quirks a brow. Neil's usually so stubborn, he wouldn't dare give up. Then again, maybe he's enjoying this.

Neil's eyes crinkle at the edges; for once, Andrew doesn't have to look away from the light in those eyes. Which...is strange. The urge to reject it, to push it away isn't there, not even swimming beneath the surface. It's more common nowadays, yes, but not any less suspicious. Andrew sifts for it, like an anchor, something familiar, and finds nothing. Like years and years of rust wore away the shackle, for the moment.

Neil seems to realize it too; his smile falls slowly, his chest heaving with the exertion.

Panting.

And oh, how predictable Andrew has become. It's not a good thing, he knows, but it's the grave he's chosen to lie in.

Neil's eyes bore into his, and their faces are a lot closer than Andrew realized. At some point, he must've moved. At some point, his body sought Neil out before his mind could catch up.

Isn't that interesting?

Interesting, not taxing. Alluring.

He used to hate that word, but never before has it sounded so fitting.

He watches Neil swallow, follows the bob of his adam's apple and the strong line of his jaw. Andrew scoots his hand up, tapping the beauty mark he knows is right behind Neil's ear, and those blue eyes catch fire, burning Andrew from the inside.

The dormant flame, the one that's been building for days, weeks, seems to finally meet kerosene.

He wants to kiss Neil. He wants to do more than kiss Neil.

He wants whatever Neil will give him. He wants to give Neil more than he ever thought he could.

It's a sudden, irresistible craving.

Neil's breath hitches, and his hand slides tentatively up Andrew's forearm, like he's dizzy despite lying down. Andrew's hips twitch just from that realization alone, from knowing he can affect Neil at the snap of his finger, trap them away from the rest of the world by pure feeling alone.

"Um..." Neil whispers, at a complete loss for words. The textbook falls from Andrew's hands; he doesn't care what happens to it, and neither does Neil in the moment.

Andrew's hand slides around the back of Neil's neck, cradling it, and the striker's pulse is like a rabbit's.

The only difference is, he's running right to Andrew.

"Um," he repeats, mockingly, and it's the last push Neil needs. He surges up at the same time Andrew crashes forward, their lips meeting for a kiss that sends Andrew's nerves into a frenzy.

It's all over for Neil's homework, after that.

Neil shoves his scratch paper and all his supplies away harshly, making room, and Andrew is on top of him in the next second.

It's not planned, Andrew realizes too late. They didn't plan this. This is not time he scheduled, carved out. Every movement is haphazard, limbs knocking into each other to try and fit right, their bodies never quite close enough. Neil's elbow hits the coffee table nearby at one point, and Andrew swallows his wince. The striker recovers instantly, so desperate for more.

Neil's a live wire, hiking up his own shirt before his train of thought zips somewhere else, and then he's tugging at Andrew's shirt, his belt, all silent pleas which scream at Andrew.

They're saying 'here' and 'more' and 'give me.'

For all the times Andrew has to tell Neil to stop fidgeting, now he has no room to.

Andrew breaks off the kiss messily, bumping his nose against Neil's cheek before pressing a firm kiss to his collarbone. He'd think his lips were searing from how Neil's body jumps from it, and Andrew lingers there long enough to feel the vibration from Neil's groan. But he's impatient.

Impatient. That's Neil's thing, not his, but Andrew has no reason to put an end to it.

"Yes, yes," Neil breathes, as if to reinforce that thought. Andrew kisses down the length of Neil's body; his chest, his abdomen, his hip, all firm and deep like he's trying to keep Neil from floating away.

Neil pulls lightly at Andrew's hair before cradling his face, guiding him back up for a kiss with zero aim. It's alright, there's no quota. No three strikes policy, his brain reminds him, stupidly. Neil huffs a laugh when Andrew kisses the side of Neil's lips on accident before planting one right on him. In fact, he does it twice to make up for it. Twice, three times...four...again...

"T-the door," Neil somehow manages to get out in between his moans, and oh, Andrew forgot.

What a plot twist; Neil's the one thinking ahead.

"Shit," Andrew mutters, glaring at the door and all who might dare to walk through it right then. He's not having a repeat of last time.

He gets up, or tries to. It's surprisingly a challenge with Neil there. Before Andrew can stand, the redhead pulls him down for another kiss, keeping him there. Only spite allows Andrew to actually get up, the desire to prove he's not that weak, even though Neil looks downright devastated when he's left alone on the floor for the .3 seconds it takes Andrew to lock them in.

Idiot.

Andrew not only locks the door, he uses the bolt too. If anyone wants into this dorm, they're going to have to break the damn thing down.

Neil is already waiting for him in the doorway to the bedroom when Andrew turns around. He moved fast, but Andrew can't comment on the eagerness. He hadn't even thought about moving to the bed.

But yes, doing it on the floor would've been a bad idea. Andrew tries not to think too much about how he probably would've continued no problem.

From how he pauses, it must be obvious. Neil quirks a brow, and one day Andrew's going to tell him to stop adopting his mannerisms without permission. "You can do me against other surfaces later."

Andrew doesn't dignify that with a response, but he takes it as the promise it is.

And, because Neil is the worst, he reaches out a hand for Andrew to take, knowing there's no other decision for him. No, there's no other decision he wants to make. Neil doesn't care what they do, as long as it's with Andrew.

The striker proves that again and again, and the clouded parts of Andrew always wait for that to shatter. But Neil doesn't expect too much of him; they mess up, they step back, but there's never another direction Andrew wants to walk in.

Nothing would stop him, at this point.

He has Neil in his lap on their bed in the next moment; he doesn't keep track of how it happened. From how Neil is keening, Andrew must've picked him up. So easy, Andrew thinks.

Neil isn't easy about anything but this; Andrew's strong hold, keeping him upright.

He practically melts in Andrew's arms, trying to wriggle closer. Andrew's never felt a good weight on him before Neil came into his life. It's addictive almost, the light pressure, the knowledge Neil will move away as soon as he needs to.

Sometimes, when Andrew really isn't in control of his thoughts, he thinks about shackling Neil to him, so they're both tied together. It's a stupid, selfish thought, and unnecessary too.

Doomed, he thinks. He should stop...he...

Neil's hands find Andrew's neck, because of course they do, and Andrew lets himself sigh into Neil's lips.

No, why the hell would he stop?

Neil eats up every noise Andrew gives him, a concession which is becoming more frequent, and the striker's hips start to roll slowly. Encouraging.

Andrew growls into the kiss, cupping the front of Neil's jeans to feel him twitch, hard for Andrew already. Neil breaks the kiss and throws his head back; possessively, Andrew wonders how many people on campus would kill to see Neil like this. And they never will.

Andrew pulls off Neil's shirt hastily, and the striker's hands are back on his neck, never satisfied. Andrew feels the chain around his neck move from Neil playing with it, twisting it around his lithe fingers as he strokes Andrew's skin. In an instant, Andrew has a moment of clarity.

'Get me one,' Neil had said. Andrew just might be able to now.

He pushes the thought away to reevaluate later when he's not trying to make Neil look spotted.

The hickies from a few days before aren't exactly faded, but Andrew makes them fresh anyways. That one guy from Katelyn's class has been staring at Neil again, and well, if Andrew's jacket isn't enough to relay the message...

"Ohh," Neil sighs when Andrew leaves another bruise on his collarbone, licking the sensitive skin gently.

This will have to do.

Andrew doesn't even realize he's taking his time until he's not. Neil's impatience reaches its limit, the lust in his eyes threatening to roll Andrew onto his back. It happened once before, Neil riding Andrew, clothes on.

It's something they'll have to explore again.

But, Andrew reads the room. He plops Neil off his lap and onto the bed, standing to rid himself of his shirt before moving to his jeans. This part is always a little slower; Neil has seen all of him, they've made out naked, showered together frequently, but it's still overwhelming for the first beat.

Neil's gaze is hungry though, jeans messily pulled down to his own thighs, right where the material has a hard time moving. The hesitation is wiped clean from the stare, but more so the fact Andrew wants his hands to be on Neil now.

He kicks aside his pants and underwear and has to jerk Neil's chin up to get him focused back on his face and not his cock. Neil glares, like he can sense the smirk behind Andrew's mask.

It'll be inside you soon, quit it.

Neil's clothes join his quickly on the floor. Andrew will deal with it later, maybe.

Neil slides down onto his back, and Andrew fits right against him, their cocks brushing on Neil's stomach.

"Fuck," Andrew grits out, and Neil shivers. Andrew strokes Neil firmly, from base to tip, smearing the precum wherever he can. He likes Neil like this, messy and unrestrained, so... "Good..."

So good for me.

Neil's eyes snap up to Andrew's, drunk on the small praise, ready for more, ready to do whatever it takes to get more. Neil's hands come up to grip Andrew's forearms, and for the first time in all their tries, the feeling of the fabric annoys Andrew.

He doesn't want them there. He wants the armbands gone. Off.

As if waiting for himself to rethink that, he stares at where Neil's hands are clenched in the fabric, trying to find the panic, the resistance.

"Andrew?" Neil whispers after the silence goes on too long, fingers uncurling. One step ahead, if he has to be. Technically he is, but for different reasons than usual.

Andrew peels his armbands off, setting them on the floor, scars on full display. Ugly, ruined things. A sign of his struggle, survival.

Things Neil understands all too well.

The redhead doesn't so much as flinch; eyes softening into something Andrew doesn't see from him any other time. Andrew has trusted him with this before, on the rare occasion, but Neil still treats it like a gift each time.

"I told you not to look at me like that," Andrew reminds, uselessly. The words ride the sound of their harsh breathing, pulled apart and drowned out like nothing.

Real, true nothing.

Not...

"I always look at you like this," Neil says, and he probably means it to be mocking. It doesn't carry.

"Can I?" Neil asks, but Andrew is already guiding Neil by the back of his neck, bringing his lips to kiss the scars firmly. Andrew doesn't move while he does; Neil is careful about it, never grazing his teeth or pressing too hard, but it's not enough to overwrite the bad memories completely.

It's a salve, at most, but that's more than Andrew had before.

Neil's fingers glide over the raised skin, his scarred forearms meeting Andrew's own. They are a pair, aren't they? Andrew doesn't believe people deserve anything, good or bad. There is simply reality.

Yet...knowing this is his...

"Neil," he says after a while, and Neil pulls back instantly, sighing. Andrew's fingers are kneading the back of his neck, just how Neil likes. He's run away from reality for so long, they both have. Now they're so deep in it, they can't leave.

So, Andrew will take all the parts of reality he never claimed before.

Andrew reaches over to fiddle with his bedside drawer, pulling out one of the foil packets. The striker in his arms jumps, hips twitching, and Andrew never feels like laughing but that look... Neil is ridiculous.

The redhead's eyes home in on the condom, right when Andrew speaks. He sounds breathless. "I need an answer still."

It's what matters most, even with Neil spread out naked beneath him, he needs it. Neil's stare slides over to Andrew, and it's unfair. Andrew has to close his eyes; a small sliver of panic runs through him, finally.

But it's not about sharing this, it's not about being exposed. It's a weird impulse to shield Neil away from everything, so nothing bad can ever happen to him again.

So nothing can take him away.

Because, how is Andrew supposed to move on from this? It's not a path he's let his mind go down, but he will at some point. Contingencies, back-up plans, to prepare for a day where Neil may be gone.

All plans that will fall devastatingly short.

"Yes," Neil whispers, and Andrew opens his eyes to see that smug smile, bringing him back to the moment like his crisis is null. Like Neil will never leave, and Andrew is a fool to think he'd be rid of him so easily. "Let's see what all the fuss is about."

Andrew does huff then, something akin to a laugh, and Neil's eyes brighten.

"I don't expect it to be any good," he says against Neil's lips, claiming them as he tears open the condom.

He feels Neil nod, pressed so close. The heat is back, the desperation, and Andrew's hips buck forward involuntarily at Neil's voice. "Mhm, probably terrible."

"Awful."

"We'll need a lot of practice..."

"Shut up Neil." Andrew slides the condom on and uncaps the lube. It should be quick now, he'll be buried inside Neil soon, especially because--

Neil spreads his legs, licking his lips at the sight of Andrew's cock between them. "I'm probably already stretched since...we--"

Andrew swipes his slick fingers against Neil's entrance, feels it already clench around nothing. Neil shudders in relief, humming from the promise of it. Andrew shakes his head. "We? You mean you always want to ride my fingers any chance you get."

He doesn't give Neil the chance to glare; he presses two fingers in, and Neil's body takes him so well, so smoothly. He avoids his prostate, if he even takes them there then Neil will beg for Andrew to just make him come like that, blissed out with nothing else on his mind. Not even exy.

"Don't you...always me---oh shit right there," Neil sighs, laughing because he doesn't know what else to do. Andrew wonders how intensely he feels it; he watches Neil's toes curl, his legs trying to find purchase. Andrew dutifully pins them to his side, knowing they'll eventually move.

Neil's legs are strong; last time, when they weren't careful, he kicked one out mid orgasm and broke the lamp by the couch.

They never told Nicky what happened to it.

"I will if it's the truth," Andrew says, and scissors Neil with three fingers just enough to ease his own mind. Not even Neil pushing back on him can calm the distress entirely. Andrew knows the feeling of his cock stretching Neil open will still be new, uncomfortable, but he'll be slow.

He won't get ahead of himself.

"It feels good," Neil states, surprisingly firm despite how wrecked he looks. There's a dreamy quality to his eyes, but the tone gets his attention. This is Neil, leaving no room for argument. "Andrew, I mean it. It all feels so good with you."

'Only you,' Neil had said, kicking his stupid legs back and forth all those months ago, like being with Andrew made him...happy. After so many things should've wiped that feeling out, torn it to shreds with blades like Neil's skin.

But no. Neil looks at him this way still, finds room to feel more and pushes Andrew to feel it too.

Neil will only ever share this with Andrew. As much as Andrew tries not to believe that deep down, because these things will eventually end in disappointment, it's slowly starting to carry the weight of a fact. A truth.

"You're staring," Neil says lightly, playful, and he's right.

Andrew glares at him, a silent admonition. Don't get too full of yourself.

"I'm waiting for something to be wrong," Andrew says, unable to help himself. It's the truth, part of it. He won't tell Neil all the unasked for revelations he's having, but that's the gist isn't it? He's waiting for this to be wrong, knowing it's impossible.

And instead of being shocked or offended, Neil just nods, kissing Andrew slow and deep. When he pulls away, the crinkle at the corner of his eyes is back. Andrew doesn't hope for much, but he hopes that stays. That way when Neil is old, he'll have wrinkles. It will be proof that Neil was able to grow old.

"And is there something wrong?" Neil asks, hand curving to the small of Andrew's back and never lower.

"No," Andrew answers, simply, honestly.

There's really not.

"Then get in me," Neil demands, not harshly, but laced with a wildness Andrew doesn't want to tame. He wants Neil to always be like this, desperate for his cock.

Andrew can't refuse.

He slicks himself up, pushes the tip against Neil's hole, and locks eyes with the striker. He wants to catalogue every moment of this. That way, he'll remember Neil when he can't remember anything else. He hopes that day comes.

With a stuttering breath, he pushes in. It's gradual, but not slow enough to delay things. That's what he wants to do, but he prioritizes what's better for Neil.

Already, Neil is trembling, panting cut off as he takes in the feeling of Andrew halfway deep in him.

"Breathe," Andrew snaps, grabbing the back of Neil's neck and squeezing. "Hey."

"I'm okay," Neil says, and it's shaky, breathy. His head lolls to the side, and there's a new smile on his face. It's no less stupid, but it sets Andrew's nerves on fire. He has to hold the sheets in the death grip to keep from thrusting forward, especially when Neil says--"I'm way more than okay."

Neil's expression is what Andrew would define as cloud nine, and thank fuck he knows Neil well enough to pin his hips down in the next second, because Neil tries to push himself all the way down on Andrew's cock.

Andrew doesn't care how much they've been messing around, Neil's trying to hurt himself doing that.

Or kill Andrew.

The movement makes him tremble, but he won't move, refuses to. Neil whines in protest, and Andrew understands the pause is mostly for himself to catch up with this new feeling. Neil's gonna have to deal with it.

It's Neil's fault anyways; Andrew brings the back of his hand to his mouth, reining in all of his urges. It's so fucking tight, the heat is unbearable in a way Andrew's never felt before. It's a separate kind of pleasure, all consuming, and paired with the knowledge it's Neil just threatens to send him over the edge.

He's inside of Neil, Neil's first, and Neil's body language is practically begging to be fucked. Neil's legs wrap around him, coaxing him, and dammit Andrew will not be the first to come here.

He risks looking down for the next part; Andrew takes a deep breath and pushes forward until his balls press flush against Neil's backside, and he chokes on the groan he tries to keep in. Neil's hole twitches around him, slick with lube and tinted pink. Andrew can't resist, he reaches down to trace the stretched rim, feeling Neil's squirm from it.

Andrew's not sure what prompted it, maybe pure disbelief. They're connected, Neil feels good. Neil--

"Oh my god, that's awesome," Neil says with a laugh, nearly on the edge of disbelief himself.

Andrew can't stand him. "Your dirty talk needs work," he says with a glare, and tries not to click his tongue from how strained he sounds. That perfect control, reservation...gone.

"I'm just being honest," Neil huffs, rolling his hips as best he can when Andrew still has them in a death grip.

Quit it.

All the little movements, the slightest shift...Andrew feels it so much, down his spine and through his legs. It should be terrifying, but there's an eagerness there instead.

"That's rare." Andrew's voice breaks off a bit at the end, barely detectable, but Neil moans shamelessly from it. He could probably get off just from Andrew's reactions alone.

"F-fuck," Neil sighs out, extra emphasis on the 'k' which sends Andrew's brain further into a spiral. He tries not to tremble when Neil's hands paw at his own abdomen, like he can't take the feeling, how intoxicating it is. "I'm going to come so fast, I'm sor--"

Neil never learned how to keep his apologies to himself.

And that's enough to make Andrew move; or so he tells himself, really he might just explode if he doesn't. He bucks forward gently, or as gentle as someone like him can manage, testing the waters.

That time, he groans, no chance of hiding it. It's swallowed up by Neil's gasp, and one of Andrew's hands buries itself on Neil's shoulder, grounding them both. The warmth...it's incredible.

"Idiot," Andrew says, and rolls his hips again. It's harder this time, channeling parts of his frustration. His balls slap against Neil's ass, loud in the small dorm room, and they both shiver. "Don't apologize."

Don't ever apologize when it's like this.

And to think, Andrew's pretty sure this must suck when put on the spectrum of good sex. He can't get enough.

"More Andrew, more," Neil breathes out, and Andrew starts to thrust in earnest. He'll listen to Neil, just this once.

The room quickly heats up; Andrew's body refuses to go more than a few seconds before swallowing Neil's moans in a searing kiss again and again. Their breath mixes, hot and frantic in the space between them. There isn't much. Neil's lips are like water, or maybe Andrew just needs to do this or he'll risk being just as loud as his boyfriend.

Andrew's thrusts are like a lot of things he does; precise, unrelenting. He's a fast learner too, maybe more so than Neil. He catalogues every yelp and moan that leaves Neil's mouth, familiarizes himself with what gets every specific little reaction.

If he presses down on Neil's stomach mid thrust, he gets a screaming 'yes,' if he pauses a little too much he gets a long and drawn out whine. Andrew doesn't usually study, but in this case he does so without complaint. In less than two minutes, he's made Neil work up a sweat, and Andrew's glad he has this now, a workout Neil would be all too happy to do. Andrew watches Neil's abdomen flex, and wants to lick every ridge of muscle.

There's almost too much to do and not enough time, the heat begins to coil in Andrew's groin, a warning. He...doesn't want it to be over.

"Holy shit, fuck yes, like that," Neil babbles, as harsh and cutting as his personality. Andrew takes all of it, unafraid of being sliced open. The enthusiastic consent keeps Andrew's demons at bay, but he knows they're not for his benefit.

Neil just can't keep his mouth fucking shut.

He pins down one of Neil's thighs to adjust the angle, making his skin wet with lube. Every push is slower, but powerful. It might just be that he can't get enough of being as deep as he can, seeing Neil's legs curl from how well he's being stretched.

Andrew bites off another moan before it can fully form, but Neil catches it with that same brightness in his eyes, like he has any room to talk when he's falling apart on Andrew's cock.

"You like it," the striker accuses, and Andrew hates having to repeat himself: stop stating the obvious.

"Do I?" Andrew responds, petulantly, and Neil smirks before clenching around Andrew's cock when he pushes in as deep as he can go. The groan he lets out has Neil's pupils eating up the remaining sliver of blue. Darkness, a void, but Andrew has never felt more alive staring into them.

"You're the worst," Andrew growls, snapping his hips to make Neil yelp. See, right there, that's what I mean. "So mouthy."

"Get me to shut up," Neil says with a laugh, like he can't wait.

Andrew freezes, looks up at Neil to make sure he heard right. And yes, Neil is staring right at him, challenging and soft at once. He caught it, he caught it no matter how Andrew tried to hide it.

The slowness, the oh so subtle way he held himself back.

Even now, even like this.

"Fuck me Andrew," Neil begs, hands fisting in the sheets by his head. "You're supposed to fuck me until it's all I can think about."

Andrew hears the words buried beneath: 'I can take all of you.' There's provocation too, an understanding that Andrew never goes back on his word.

This time, he's glad for it.

He leans down to bite at Neil's ear lightly, pushing himself in deeper before rocking forward. And, because Andrew is so used to being the conductor of Neil's body, he kisses him right when his mouth falls open. Exactly on cue.

"Tell me how it feels," Andrew says as he pistons forward, so close, too close. He doesn't care how gone he sounds, how out of breath and delirious. He needs to hear it.

Neil grunts after a particularly rough thrust. "I...it's--"

Andrew's movements are frenzied, not as precise as before, but this time he's allowing himself something. He's chasing his own end, without guilt, the edges of his vision already starting to white out from the heightening pleasure. Selfish, but Neil's wrecked moan is far from displeased.

"No words?" Andrew mocks. "You must like it."

Neil's legs wrap tight around his back, pushing him closer, and Neil's hands come up to push Andrew's sweaty bangs out of the way. "So deep, c'mon Andrew..."

And he does c'mon. His thighs meet Neil's in rapid succession, his pace spiking. Neil's ass, as much as Andrew hates it, is perfect and soft. It cushions every thrust, Andrew can feel it squeeze and tighten.

It's almost a shame he can't see Neil from the back...one day.

"Shit," Neil grabs his own hair, throwing his head back as he leans up on his elbows, trying to meet every one of Andrew's movements. There's no finesse; it is their first time, truly. They meet out of sync more often than not, but it's hectic, drenched in want. "Yes, yes, yes."

It's more addictive than smoke, than sugar.

"Come for me Neil," Andrew commands, grip tight on the back of Neil's neck, the pressure too much, unbelievable. He finally grabs Neil's cock, leaking obscenely between them and swollen at the tip. He pumps him mercilessly, firm, the way Neil likes it. "Let me feel it."

He wants every aspect of this burned into his memory, forever. As much as his eyes want to flutter shut, to bask in his orgasm, he wants to see Neil come undone.

He does, and Andrew doesn't assign the term 'beautiful' to anything. It's throwaway, and meaningless. But...Neil is a sight.

The striker's orgasm hits him like a speeding train; his hips stutter, and the sound he makes probably hurts his throat with how it tears through the air. Andrew watches, enraptured, as Neil turns over, body involuntarily twitching and curling in on itself. His stomach is a mess. Neil's cum lands high, dripping on his torso, and it's a shame Andrew has no time to lick it up in the moment.

Neil's thighs begin to shake from the intensity of his orgasm; he's not sure he's ever seen Neil come so hard. Certainly not enough for this, for his legs to tremble like he forgot how to move them; Andrew pins Neil's legs down, and Neil doesn't panic. He knows it's Andrew, and besides, he's too far gone. Andrew basks in the vibrations he can feel, uncontrolled, unrestrained.

And then, then Neil has the nerve to smile, completely blissed out of his mind.

It undoes him.

He thrusts forward twice more; they're stuttering, shaky movements, and then he's spilling into the condom. Andrew buries his moan in Neil's neck, muffled but still louder than he's ever allowed in the past.

'All the fuss' Neil had said. Andrew hates agreeing with others, but...he understands. He shares this with Neil often, coming apart down Neil's throat or in his hand, but this orgasm is a tidal wave. It's immensely satisfying, knowing he's inside Neil when it happens, that they're as connected as they can be. Andrew rocks forward over and over again, milking the feeling for all it's worth until he's too sensitive to move.

His stomach jumps, like he was dropped from one of those terrible amusement park rides, except he thinks this feeling is one he'd chase again.

Neil's body melts beneath him, muscles relaxing with a pleased hum. It's only then Andrew is aware of how loud their breathing is, filling the room. He wonders how it can all be contained. Space is a funny thing. He always required too much of it, an excess.

In fact right then, he anticipates the feeling. He's coming down, nerves simmering with the lingering heat, and his brain is foggy. Any moment now, he will need to break this quiet calm. He clings to it, until he can't.

He slides out of Neil with a shiver, tying off the condom and throwing it in the nearby bin. Neil whimpers from the separation, and Andrew's heartbeat jolts.

He's getting predictable, but he can't take his eyes off Neil. Neil, who is barely starting to blink away the post-orgasm haze in his mind. Andrew can track it, the moment Neil sees Andrew, and understands that it's over.

His legs are still--

"Shaking," Andrew comments, his hand gliding over Neil's inner thigh. The vibrations answer back, and Neil sighs from the touch. Andrew's heart reacts again, and it's familiar. He knows he's felt this before...

A heat, one that won't go away. Neil sits up, and Andrew scoots forward, unwilling to let Neil go too far from him. Like he's still craving, still--

"Yeah..." Neil whispers, hand resting on top of Andrew's. The redhead laughs at how his own body trembles, but there's a flash of insecurity in those dark eyes.

A consequence of Neil's lack of inexperience, he sometimes doesn't know if his reactions are normal, acceptable. Like Andrew won't be replaying this in his head for days, weeks.

"That's new," Andrew says, and he feels so stupid about it. He should be asking if Neil is okay, checking him over for injuries, making sure that haze in his eyes isn't some horrible predecessor to something else, because surely Andrew went too far, and--

"Can't...can't help it," Neil says with a laugh, and that damn smile. Andrew's muscles twitch, his mind halting in its initial terror. Neil looks...more than okay. He looks how Andrew feels, and it startles him to realize what that means.

Because Andrew feels...good.

Andrew freezes from that one, abysmal thing. He feels good. Over a year ago, it would've been a miracle to feel at all.

"It won't stop," Neil fills the silence, when Andrew is quiet for too long, eyes boring into Neil's face. The striker ducks his head, almost shyly, a word Andrew would never associate with him in a million years.

Neil's only shy when he's on the cusp of ruining someone's life for fun. The thought makes Andrew's entire being jump.

And that calmness isn't just calmness, it's the beginning of desire and yearning, rushing back with the promise of intensity. It's deja vu, this singing of his nerves. Andrew's not sure why; he expected a long talk, maybe a panic, or the itch to call Bee once all this actually happened.

Instead, he's left with this. Nothing behind it, nothing waiting in the shadows. He's sure there will be, in the future.

But his mind, in a rare fucking concession, gave him this.

"Then don't stop," Andrew nearly demands, because right then, Neil can't possibly show him enough.

Neil perks up, head lifting, performing the same search Andrew is so familiar with. He travels the lengths and lines of Andrew's face, just looking. Someday, Andrew will be okay enough to ask what Neil sees.

Whatever he finds, it makes him grin, a thing which Andrew will always hate him for. "Mm, okay."

Neil's legs wrap around him slowly, loosely, as if to keep Andrew nestled there. It gives Andrew the chance to break away, to retreat, and Neil won't take offense.

But the intent is clear; he wants Andrew there, wants Andrew close.

That same clinginess takes root in Andrew's veins, already missing the heat of Neil's body.

He wades through the waters of his head, one last time, because surely that can't be right. He's been asking that a lot lately, telling himself things can't be right when all evidence shows they are.

"Do you need to go?" Neil asks, echoing the question burning in Andrew's head. Does he?

The itch is back, but it's not bad, it's not wary. It's telling him to get closer.

When too many seconds pass without Andrew moving, Neil starts to create the space for him, to back away. Andrew grabs his ankle so fast Neil jumps, and he yanks him forward, showing off. Soon, Neil is flush against Andrew again. It's right, it pushes all the correct buttons inside him. When Neil feels the beginnings of Andrew's desire, semi-hard and leaking against his body, his eyes widen.

But well, Andrew did always like to give him a verbal answer.

Lazily, he tilts his head, regarding Neil in all his glory. Disheveled hair, drying cum on his chest, open and ready to take Andrew as many times as they both want. No, no reason to leave at all. Many reasons to stay.

"I don't think I'm done with you yet," Andrew deadpans, but he doesn't mean it. Neil will know he doesn't. They can end it here, if they need to. He watches Neil process the words, the slow blink. Neil's damn eyelashes are so long, even the dumbfounded stare seems sultry.

If there is a creator, Neil was made just to fuck with Andrew, knowing Andrew will do nothing to stop him.

Neil's confusion bursts into joy, blush high on his scarred cheekbones, and when he lunges forward into Andrew's arms, Andrew is all too ready to catch him.

#andreil #aftg #andrew minyard #neil josten #all for the game

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rhabakoli · 5 years

Text

Infinite White - 8

The text Fenja translates is the letter Gandalf writes about Aragorn (i think to Frodo? not sure rn), per @finnickfoxes request. And since I am a true dumbass, I actually translated it myself, instead of just look it up. But I like my version better anyway.

Previous chapters here.

Trigger warning: space talk. Anyone disagreeing with me will be blocked.

Taglist:@dreamwritesimagines @i-am-always-famished @marauderskeeper @superwolfchild-fan @thescarsweleave @cgn-99 @alicedopey @alwaysadreamingoptimist @atlas-of-the-world @finnickfoxes @rmwest9 (i’m just gonna tag u now, scream if you don’t want to)

“So, how’s his family? Did they suspect anything?”, Maeve asked. They were carrying their trays to their usual table, finally catching up with each others lifes.

“They are nice. A bit touchy. His uncle asked me if I know UNO, and then he kinda… welcomed me to the family?”, Fenja answered and then shrugged.

“They have quite a low standard to meet. They’d love you.” Maeve gave her a sour look, kicking at her. “You’re lucky my hands are full.” Her friend just grinned cheekily and dodged her half-assed attack. The mensa was filled with chatter, the sounds of dishes clattering and the occasional discussion escalating. “And did they say anything about your breakdown?” Maeve sat across her, cracking open her coke and taking a sip. “No, I don’t think they know.” Fenja halted, then looked up at her roommate. “Well, I think his mom might know. But she didn’t say anything.” Mave nodded and took a bite from her lunch. “That’s good, isn’t it?” Fenja shrugged, gaze focused on her plate. “As long as I don’t have to explain it to everyone, I’m fine.” “I think your man will be glad to do it for you, if you asked.” Fenja carefully tasted her soup, trying not to burn her tongue. Then, as she processed the words, she raised an eyebrow at Maeve. “Who?” “Ragnar.” “Ah.” She smacked her lips together, blissed out expression on her face. “Goddamn, that soup is delicious.” Suddenly, her spoon came up, pointing across the table, almost threatening. “Also, he’s not ‘my man’, where even did you get that from?” “He’s not?” “Nah.” Maeve shrugged, then ogled the bread on Fenja’s tray. “Can I have some?”

The lecture hall was packed, every single seat taken. Some poor souls were even sitting on the stairs, eager to listen in and maybe find some validation, and inspiration - who are we kidding, mainly they just wanted to hear that it would be worth it all and it’d get better. Fenja was sitting all the way up, last row, glad to even have found a seat. Half the literature department was here, some journalism majors too. “I heard she’s only doing this, because her husband is a Ragnarsson. Otherwise she’d never have gotten the spot.” Fenja scoffed, as she pulled out pen and paper, ready to take notes. Unfortunately, her neighbours heard her and turned. “You have something to say, honey?” Her eyes grew round, she twisted in her seat and shook her head. “No, sorry, I just misheard. I thought you said she only got the lecture because her husband’s a Ragnasson.” “Well, I did.” The guy leaned his forearm onto the back of his seat, his body angled towards her, chest puffed like a bird ready to dance. His friend mirrored him, twirling her thick long hair around her finger, smirking. “Which doesn’t make sense, to be honest. She’s been holding lectures and seminars even before she’d met him, so implying she’d need the help of a rich man is not only wrong, but also degrading to her, her achievements and other authors and writers that have made it by themselves.” He wanted to throw another comment in, probably just as entitled and ignorant as his first, when Fenja raised a hand to stop him. “I’m not interested in fumbled comebacks dragged from your misogynistic fathers mouth, so, let’s leave it be, yes?” “Listen, bitch-” “You better think of a new beginning for that sentence, because I can promise you this is not going to end well for you. I know for a fact that the dean is quite the feminist, and he does not tolerate such behaviour at all. I’d pull my head out of my bum, if I were you, because your view on the world is growing a bit old, don’t you think?” He opened and closed his mouth, looked like a fish on the dry, skin flushing. His friend was looking on with big eyes, absolutely shocked anyone would talk to him like that. “You will regret this-” He finally found his voice, anger radiating off him. Fenja sighed. “Listen, you educationally handicapped amoeba. I am not going to regret this, even if it gets me into trouble. Because I know for a fact, while I will have to sit through a serious conversation on properly handling my anger, you’ll have to face an angry dean about the way you view women and I bet you’ll get to go to a couple very educating lectures, which I doubt you’ll get credit for.” They now had enough, they were storming off, the girl tutting over him, while he almost rammed into Ragnar, who took a step to the side and watched them go. “Hey.” He gestured over his shoulder, into the direction the two asshats were fleeing. “What was that?” Fenja shrugged and sat properly, facing forward. Some of the professors were gathered by the podium, talking. She tried to get a good view, but a rather tall professor was in the way. Wait. She knew that back from somewhere. Also, that manbun beat her in UNO just last week. Ragnar sat next to her, typing away on his phone, when she poked him violently. He really felt that, even through the fluffy sweater he wore. Gods, did she have pointy fingers. He hastily grabbed her wrist, holding it so she couldn’t attack him again. “What?” “Is that your Uncle?” He followed her line of sight, chuckling. “Yep.” “What’s he doing here?” “He’s teaching, princess. He’s specialized on Viking history and Nordic religions.” He laughed at her face. Her mouth stood open, eyebrows raised and her breath left her with a silent “oh.” “By the way. Auntie asked me to tell you, that she’s in town all week, and I am supposed to drag you to dinner, so you can meet her.” Now, that really got her attention. “What?” She pointed down to the podium, where a small, dainty woman assumed position and straightened her papers. “You mean that auntie? The amazing, famous author/Journalist?” “Yep.” He’d really get himself bitch-slapped one day, if he continued to play down such important, impactful events. Fenja flailed in her seat, almost falling out of it. “You can’t just - what, I -” Ragnar caught her arm, pulling her back up like it was nothing. “Calm down. How about dinner this friday. Whole family will be there.” “Is that supposed to help me? In any way?”, she asked, her tone suggesting how it definitely did not help. “Bear too.” He grinned at her, chuckling at the speed at which her expression - her whole demeanor, really - shifted. “Okay.”

Down at the podium, Gala cleared her throat and welcomed them, introduced herself and explained why she was holding his lecture. Ragnar knew all of this, he had only come up here to deliver his aunts message. But Fenja was so cute, all attentive, eager to soak up whatever knowledge his aunt decided to share. How she sat there, focused, scribbling down notes and questions for later. She did it on seperate sheets, organized and thought-out. He watched her profile, let his eyes roam over her figure, how she was wrapped into a hoodie at least two sizes too big, how she had a foot up on the seat, and an arm wrapped around her knee, leaning into it. How she ran the flat of her thumb’s nail over her lower lip, - left, right, left again - lips slightly parted. He licked his lips, swallowing and then promptly snapped himself out of it. Shaking his head over his creepy staring and suddenly, uh… not-friendly mood, he turned to watch Gala talk about the struggles of writing, writer’s block and solutions that helped in her experience. The lecture took about an hour, with a Q&A session added. Here too, Fenja listened closely, checking questions already answered and noting them down. Ragnar caught himself staring again. He always had felt the need to kinda protect her, keep her close, in his arms, but- oh boy. Oooooh. He leaned back against the chair, crossed his arms and stubbornly stared ahead, until his aunt excused them and everyone was leaving. He’d have to talk to someone about this. Crap. Someone help him. He must have made a sound, because Fenja looked over, concern on her face. “Is everything okay?” “Yeah, I’m good.”

** “Okay, so, I’ve got some examples I need you to translate, please.” Ingrid laid down papers in front of Fenja and sat. “We’re gonna implement this in the program, we need to get clear on pronunciation and grammar and stuff.” Fenja looked down at the paper, then back at Ingrid. “That’s your example?” “Yep.” This whole family, for real. “Uh, you’re not gonna get accurate, actually used German that way, right?” It’s from Lord Of The Rings. The hell. “It’s not about that, it’s just an example, a start. It’s about the words, not what it means in context.” She nodded, then held her hand out for a pen. “You want me to do it on paper?”” Now it was Ingrids turn to shrug. “However you’d like, doesn’t make a big difference.”

It didn’t take Fenja too long to translate it, even when using old German, plush and polished words, to keep the feeling of the original. She caught Ingrid’s attention, as she put her pen down and leaned back in her chair. They were seated in the Ragnarsson library, spread all over the place with school stuff, research, Fenja’s papers for her essays and Ingrid’s paperwork for the Linguae Populi. “You wanna read it?”, the girl asked, and promptly put her chin into her hands, abandoning her work. “Sure.” Fenja cleared her throat and took a deep breath. In a sure, but soft tone, she read aloud:

“Nicht alles das Gold, funkelt; Nicht alle die wandern, verloren; Alt und stark nicht verdunkelt; Wurzeln in Tiefe nicht erfroren; Feuer aus Asche entsteht, wie Licht entspringt dem Schatten; Soll zerbarste Klinge nun heilen, Krone wieder auf Königs Haupte weilen.”

Fenja felt slightly uncomfortable under Ingrid's attentive gaze; she raked her fingers through her hair and looked down at the paper. “It's probably not perfect, and certainly not even close to the original translation, but I tried.” The girl stopped her immediately, waving a hand through the air and shaking her head adamantly. “no I'm sure it's absolutely fine.” “Sounded fine to me.”, Came from the door. “Dad!” Ingrid uncurled her legs, bound over to her father like a puppy and dove into his arms for a big old hug. “I didn't know you'd be home today! I thought you had a work trip to Ontario?” Ivar stroked his daughter's head as he looked down at her. “I sent your Uncle instead. Gala has some business there, so he'd have gone there anyway.” Piercing blue eyes fixed Fenja ij her seat, while Ingrid took her fathers free arm and pulled him over. “You speak german?” Fenja nodded, intimidated and shy. “My family came over during the war, and they never let anyone lose touch to their roots. They expect you to be fluent in german.” Ingrid pulled the paper with the translation over and showed him. “That's from Lord of the rings. She's a nerd.” “Then you must like her, no? Two peas in a pod?” He grinned playfully, his calm exterior and the way he bantered with his kid, put her at ease. He wasn't bad, in any way. He was just so… tall, and broad, and had this very hard and cold aura, if he wanted to. They talked for a while. Ivar asked her more about her family, if they came before the war, or if they lived through the harsh times there. Fenja tried to answer, even taught him a couple of words and phrases when he asked for it. Turns out, the big bad Ivar Ragnarsson was a very curious and eager-to-please puppy dog. Now it was obvious, where this part of Ragnar came from. Those two were so much alike.

Ragnar was minding his own business, concentrating on his work, as a body fell into the spot next to his and a phone was shoved into his face. “LOOK AT THIS!” He did. “What am I looking at?” Fenja grinned, eyes alight with excitement, her whole body vibrating with restless energy. “That's a photograph of a black hole!” She sounded so proud, you'd think she made it. Without having to prompt her, she started into an extended rant, explaining how and when, how big it was (very), and how she really wanted to go visit it (so damn much), and how it looked like Sauron’s eye (It really did, wow), and ‘what if there is some kind of alternate universe where hobbits exist and the black hole is actually a way to go there, or to look into other universes?!’ “You want to visit a black hole.” “Yep.” “You think it’s a way to an alternate Hobbit universe?” “Yep.” Ragnars eyes were skipping over her face, taking in the scrunched nose as she smiled, the tousled hair from her run over, the healthy color of her face, the twinkle in her eyes. She was so cute, this excited. So open, so warm. It was a glimpse of how she could have been, if her parents had survived; she'd be way less inclined to shut others out. He also noticed how close she was. Her arm was wrapped around his biceps, her front pressed into his side as she leaned against him, essentially hugging his arm, while she was still holding the phone up, her elbow on the desk in front of him, his forearm trapped under hers. “You’re crazy.”, he shook his head. “That’s my best personality trait, that are you talking about?” “But I’m coming with you. No way you’re gonna survive there. Either you’ll eat yourself to death, or you set one foot there and collide with some monster.” “It’s settled then.” She let go of his arm, laid her own arms and head on the table, face towards him. “Now the only things left are contact with aliens and society’s realization regarding Pluto’s wrong degradation from planet status.” Ragnar knew better than to dive into that discussion. She was very passionate about space. Instead, he plucked a hair hanging from her lashes. “But what if there are no aliens?” Okay, he was weak. Don’t judge. Fenja groaned, but didn’t move much. “People who honestly believe that we are the only ones out there, are either very stupid, ignorant, or just plain scared. I can respect scared cucumbers, because that means on some level at least they agree that we can’t be alone, that’s just not logical.”

They fell into a comfortable pattern, Fenja ranting, Ragnar working. Sometimes it was the other way around, sometimes it was almost completely silent between the two of them. It was like a bubble, a safe haven on campus. Other students usually tended to avoid the two of them, because rants could happen just about any time, and those two got really passionate, including flailing arms and sometimes even thrown pens. So, their table was a corner-table, but other than them, there were no others in close vicinity.

No one wanted to be part of… whatever they had.

Part 9

#Infinite White #IW #foh #faint of heart AU #slow burn #Ivars kids #vikings

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