#apart from me listening to loud music nothing of this is particularly remarkable | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cotccotc · 4 years

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┈┈ 𝐬𝐤𝐳 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬/𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜 *:･ﾟ

✩ ot8 reaction headcannon, 2.5k words (eek sorry)

✩ genre/s: **fluff**, humor, established relationship, ot8 x gender neutral!reader

✩ warning/s: MOBILE TUMBLR HATES ME (some gifs & author’s note might not appear),,,, my terrible sense of humor/commentary, a couple of them are suggestive if you s q u i n t

✩ a/n: idk if the concept makes any sense but it does in my mind \_( ‘-’ )_/ also seungmin’s part is the exact same kinda similar to a brief scenario in my txt soobin “brightest blue” fic... but it’s fineee. also i’m sorry that some are longer than others! enjoy :))

chan:

chan is definitely extremely interested in the music you listen to.

in fact, sometimes he’d probably insist that you show him your current playlist from start to finish lol.

i can imagine y’all hanging out at the dorms, maybe even mid-cuddle, listening to some of your recent favorites.

but there’s this ONE SONG--

your absolute JAM

you get up from your seat or the bed and start completely jamming out.

he stays where he is so he can watch you have the time of your life.

i guess nobody told him you’re a professional lip syncer… awk...

you grab a hairbrush and hold it up like it’s a microphone.

honestly you’re thriving,,

he’s kinda stunned. not in a bad way, but he’s just so mezmorized by how cute (and maybe a lil sexy) you are when you dance like no one’s watching.

there’s a particularly awesome beat drop toward the end of the song, which leads you to do some equally awesome head banging.

he’s cackling at this point, which drives you to act even sillier.

*ending pose*

once the song ends and you’re trying to catch your breath, he slowly starts clapping for you.

“the song was great, but the performance was even better,” he’d say, coming off a bit sarcastic. but he means well!

you start to get a bit self-conscious and shy as you put yourself together again.

he’ll try to comfort you, standing up to wrap you in a hug.

“don’t be embarrassed!” (cue soft chan),

“baby that was awesome”,

“you should join a rock band!”, etc.

overall, he’d love it when you share your music taste, and this event will probably set off a chain reaction of similar jam sessions in the future.

minho:

ok so we all know minho’s a cat person, blah blah blah...

but what if you got super excited about a really cute dog?

let’s say you’re on a walk at a park, holding hands, and talking.

all of a sudden you see someone walking their dog…

and when i tell you this is the cutest, tiniest dog on the face of the earth,,,

you immediately stop walking and squeeze minho’s hand. you point to the dog and start freaking out because it’s so cute.

he’d say something silly like, “what are you talking about? it looks like a rat.”

you disregard it because you’re just so excited about this puppy!

“can we pet it?” you ask.

“... fine” he replies, smiling at you, despite his attempts to act uninterested.

y’all go over to the woman walking her dog and ask if you can pet the puppy. when she says you can pet him, you immediately sit on the ground, ready to have the best puppy playdate of your life.

minho’s still standing, watching you with loving eyes.

of course, you start talking to the puppy as if he’s a baby. minho laughs, trying to stifle all the uwus emanating from his heart

the puppy climbs onto your lap and licks your face just a little bit.

you look up at minho with wide eyes, saying “awww, isn’t he so cute!”

he’d playfully roll his eyes because why would he cheat on cats like that…

then you tug on his hand, motioning for him to sit with you. he does, reluctantly.

you place the puppy on his lap to see what happens.

the dog loves him! (of course, because what living thing wouldn’t love lee minho?)

the puppy is licking minho all over as he makes faces of disgust and struggles to pull him away.

you laugh out loud, happier than ever at the two very good boys in front of you.

he smiles again, completely endeared with your excitement despite being covered in puppy spit...

so, it doesn’t matter what kinds of animals you two prefer, since you’re the cutest thing he’s ever seen. (aww)

changbin:

i feel like changbin is the type to not be ashamed of/shy about showing you the songs he’s writing.

...except for right now.

he just got home from the studio, dropping his bag onto a table… but some papers fall out.

you attempt to grab the papers, but changbin stops you and grabs them himself instead with a subtle hint of nervousness.

pretty suspicious if you ask me.

“what’s up?” you ask, a bit confused about what just happened.

he’d try to play it off like nothing suspicious was going on, but you know his poker face.

it’s too cute not to notice.

he likes to play all tough but you (and everyone else tbh) know him better than that.

you go to grab the papers, but he steps away. you try again… and again, and again, and again.

you become increasingly more frustrated and impatient with each attempt, until changbin holds them up high in the air where you can’t reach them. he has a look on his face that says ‘haha! gotcha!’

you’ve never done this much jumping in your life.

but you’re not a quitter.

“okay… i give up,” you say, returning to a stationary position and placing your arms around his neck.

however, just as he lowers his hands to your waist, you snatch the papers!

“AHA!” you exclaim.

all he can say is “damn it!” as you scramble to the couch with the papers in your hand. you sit facing away from him, attempting to speed-read the lyrics sprawled across the pages.

he follows you to the couch, trying to take the papers back from behind.

“binnie, these are so good!!”

“thanks… but were they worth betraying your innocent boyfriend?”

“yes. every word.” you finally hand him back the papers with a smirk.

he’d curse under his breath, ditching the papers in favor of tickling you instead.

what a terrible punishment!

hyunjin:

we all know hyunjin is a drama queen,,

you can be a bit of a dramatic person yourself (who isn’t?).

so when you lose your favorite sweater, you’re immediately going on a wild goose chase around the dorms, because that’s where you had it last.

you’re practically talking to yourself. double checking everywhere you’d been. retracing your steps like a mad person.

you need this sweater!!

you let out a little “urgh!” as you begin getting frustrated.

hyunjin would ask what’s wrong, and when you tell him, he’d GASP.

he’d be like:

“have you checked under the bed?”

“the couch?”

“what about over here?”

“over there?”

this boy will not REST until the sweater is back in your possession, wasting no time in matching your level of concern/dramatics...

… if not exceeding it.

y’all have practically torn the whole room apart at this point.

until finally, you find it in a random drawer (of course smh)

“I FOUND IT!” you’d exclaim, flopping onto the bed and putting the sweater on,

to which you’d receive a “YAY!” in return

tired and leaning against a wall, he’d say something like, “thank GOD! now, why do you need it so bad?”

and you’d simply and softly respond, “... i got chilly~”

he wouldn’t give a verbal response, but his face would go from relaxed to ‘bruh’.

you knew he’d be shocked at your statement, but you choose to tease him instead with a smile.

he would then opt to tackle you in the bed, fumbling with the covers and vowing to make you as warm as humanly possible.

jisung:

jisung definitely loves showing you the music he’s been working on, just like changbin.

except… this time, the lyrics aren’t necessarily what you’re used to hearing.

you can tell jisung’s a bit nervous as he presses play, choosing to keep his eyes on the floor as he nods his head to the rap.

you’re listening intently, as curious and excited as you are every other time…

but then you realize that it’s about you……

the lyrics talk about letting someone into his life and his longing to be even closer to that person than he is now.

therefore,,,, u w u

you giggle, which prompts him to look up at you almost immediately with anticipation about your reaction.

you decide to wait until the end of the song to react, but you can already feel the excitement bubbling up inside of you.

the song ends, and you’re sitting in silence alongside jisung. “so… what did you think?”

“well… i think…” you trail off, looking into jisung’s eyes.

with a bit of a squeal you leap up from your seat and essentially attack him.

you straddle his legs (don’t get any *ideas* this is FLUFF for goodness sake) and wrap your arms around his neck, locking him into a big hug.

“i love it, baby. so, so, so, much,” you respond quickly and genuinely.

he laughs, his arms wrapping around you.

he’d probably remark, “you scared me for a second!”

you laugh in response, apologizing for your delayed reaction.

deep down, he’d feel so relieved that you liked the song and its sentiment.

he’d also be so happy to have you, his overexcited sweetheart, in his arms.

however, at the surface, he’d prefer to tease you. “next time, don’t make me wait so long!”

felix:

ok so y’all send memes and tik toks back and forth all day every day. it’s just protocal.

also,,, you could literally be in the same room, and he’d still just start sending you tik toks he’d saved just to send to you and see your reaction.

but there’s this o n e

you can’t quite explain why but when you watch the tik tok that your boyfriend sent you from across the couch, you laugh harder than you’ve ever laughed before.

whatever humor you may have, this tik tok completely encompasses it in a beautiful, stupid way.

before you know it, you begin cackling.

felix knows that you’ve always been a bit embarrassed of your laugh (who isn’t, right?), so when you start letting loose he’s a bit caught off guard.

still, he joins in (at a smaller scale, of couse).

he always wants to see you happy, but this is a whole new level of cuteness in his eyes.

your laughter subsides a bit...

until you decide to watch the tik tok again.

believe it or not, it’s even funnier the second time!

you double over, laughing so hard that no sound is even coming out of your mouth.

“are you okay?!” he’d ask, laughing harder now at your actions.

he’d put his arms around you so he could hold you up.

you’d mouth out a “no” in response.

there are practically tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

he’d continue looking down at you with a beaming smile, holding you up until your laughter comes to a full stop.

“was it really that funny? i can’t even make you laugh like this.”

you’re almost dazed, your stomach hurting (in the best way possible). you try to steady your breathing.

after a few seconds of recovery, he’d whisper in your ear with a deep, silly voice...

“...wanna watch it again?”

it’s safe to say you won’t fully recover for a while.

seungmin:

on days off, you watch dramas with seungmin to take both of your minds off of work/school/whatever’s been keeping you busy.

however… of course you can’t go a whole episode without laughing hysterically, and it’s all because of seungmin.

it could be the most dramatic, intense, or heartbreaking scene in the show but he would make it into a full blown impersonation comedy routine.

ESPECIALLY if the drama is in a foreign language.

this boy will reinact all of the subs in the stupidest way possible.

but, today he’s a bit exhausted, snuggling up against you and not saying much.

our boys work too hard :(( (but wbk)

...so you decide to take his place.

you start off kind of hesitantly, waiting to see if he’d even react. when the main characters start to have an argument, you begin reading the subtitles in a silly voice.

you hear a soft giggle from your boyfriend has be tightens his arm’s grip around your waist.

you begin to use different voices for each of the two characters, alternating between a nasly, high pitched one and a lower one with voice cracks. this makes seungmin laugh harder, going from a giggle to his usual open-mouthed chuckle.

he’s so cute >_< ,,anyways…

as the scene intensifies, so does the volume of your impersonations.

“yOu’Ve bEtRaYeD mE!”

“BuT yOu LiEd tO mE!”

at this point seungmin is cackling despite his heavy eyes and unwillingness to move. he’d be so caught up in your routine that he’d forget he was even tired.

you look up at him to see that big smile and those sparkly eyes you love so much, which motivates you to be even goofier!

you sit up, leaving seungmin’s grasp. you begin making hand gestures to match your overdramatic tone.

the scene comes to a climax, in which you recite the final line with more ferver and fake passion than ever before. you finish it off with a fist in the air for ~emphasis~.

as you hold this pose, you hear your loyal audience member begin to cheer for you. he claps, whisper-shouting “ahh” to create fake crowd noises.

“what a show!” he would commend you with an expression of sarcastic awe on his face.

you’re really glad you decided to cheer him up…

but not nearly as glad as he is to have you with him on a day like this.

jeongin:

jeongin’s smile could literally melt anyone’s heart. everybody knows this.

i don’t care who you are, if you see jeongin smile, you either smile or cry and there are no other options.

i don’t make the rules.

so, when he shows you the ‘lovestay’ version of his latest dance practice, you’re bound to go insane with adoration.

as soon as his solo comes up and the camera zooms in on his sweet, smiling face, you give his cheek a little poke

you say, “that’s you!”

“shut up,” he’d respond, giggling.

“wait, i missed something,” you say with a sense of urgency. you take the phone from his hands, rewinding a few seconds.

he’d roll his eyes at you, getting a bit shy.

you resume the video until the boy in the video holds up a finger heart, at which point you press pause.

“look how cute!” you exclaim, looking up at jeongin and pointing back and forth between him and the screen.

“stop it!” he’s blushing (and you’re screaming internally at how cute he is) as he tries to refrain from making a big smile.

you poke his side, resulting in a small fit of laughter that forces his bright grin to peek out.

he swats your hand away, putting his arm around you

(partly to show his affection and partly to make you hold still)

you place your head onto his shoulder, resuming the video for the final time. “you’re too cute. i can’t help it.”

“but you’re the cutest...” he murmurs, almost inaudibly to someone who isn’t as close to him as you are now.

heat rises in your face.

you: “...stop…”

him: “hah!”

touché...

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sometimesiwrite · 3 years

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The Way It Is

Prompt: Fake Dating

Pairing: Lambert & Essi Other Characters: Julian (Jaskier), Eskel/Geralt

Rating: Teen Content Warnings: No Archive Warnings; platonic/queerplatonic dynamics; pressure to engage sexually; coarse language; alcohol/intoxication; modern AU.

Summary: When Essi and Lambert are setup on a blind date, they don’t expect to get along as well as they do. However, when they decide to keep their relationship platonic and non-romantic, they realize they might face some uncomfortable pressure. For the sake of simplicity, they decide to tell people they’re dating, but is it sustainable?

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Essi fidgeted with the bent corner of her cafe menu, looking around at the various styles of local artworks hanging on the walls. She was early by about ten minutes, but that didn’t stop her from checking the pearlescent dial of her watch every thirty seconds. Finally, the bell above the door tinkled and a man walked in. Essi could tell from the way he was looking around that he was there to meet someone—her. The only other people sitting alone in the cafe were working on laptops and tablets; no one else waiting for a date. And this man was most certainly looking for one.

He was handsome in a ruffled sort of way, though he’d clearly put in a bit of effort. His black casual dress shirt and slim light-wash jeans fit his lean frame impeccably, and a subtle quantity of mousse was clearly doing its best to tame his short, scruffy brown hair. Even his bristly beard appeared to have been trimmed recently. Though there was nothing particularly remarkable about his clothing, there was something striking about the way he carried himself, a devil-may-care sort of presence that Essi appreciated. For a blind date, she thought, it certainly could be worse. Allegedly, they knew each other, at least based on his abruptly out-of-the-blue text, and the closer she looked, the more her memory of him crystalized.

A loud ping! emitted from Essi’s phone and the man looked up from his own cellular device, clearly having just texted.

“Uh, Essi? Essi Daven, right?” He took a step towards her and leaned in, pointing to his phone screen.

“Yes,” Essi stood to shake his hand, “hi.”

“Nice to see you again. Lambert.”

They sat down awkwardly, both struggling to find the will for smalltalk.

“So…” Lambert had become keenly interested in a black-and-white digital photograph behind Essi’s shoulder.

“Listen,” Essi could feel the words start to tumble out of her mouth, and it was too late to do anything about it. Lambert raised an eyebrow, “I don’t really know how to say this, so I’m just going to be honest and probably regret it later: I don’t really do this. Dating. I find it strange and uncomfortable and if I’m perfectly honest I think I’d rather die.” She didn’t cringe apologetically, which would have been the expected behaviour to accompany an outpouring of disinterest. Instead she stared at him, wide-eyed, lips slightly pursed as a muscle in her neck twitched, waiting for his response.

Lambert laughed. Genuinely laughed—a joyful release of tension and dread, “Oh, thank Fuck!” Essi blinked in pleasant surprise and watched as Lambert began to relax.

“Excuse me?” Her startlingly blue eyes widened in amusement.

“No, no, I just mean—I would absolutely and one-hundred percent, without a doubt, rather die in a hole than date,” Lambert slotted the edge of the menu under his fingernails and let his eyes wander a little more freely around the cafe.

“So then… why?”

Hm. Direct, frank, amusing lack of filter… the memories were starting to come back from what limited, heavily inebriated, time they’d spent together.

There was something about the straightforwardness of this endearingly odd woman that made Lambert feel infinitely more comfortable. Usually, any kind of interaction with the potential of building mutual interest made him feel like he was playing a game he didn’t know the rules to. The signals, the code words that never meant what they said: having sex on the first date means you’re a slut; not having sex on the third date means you’re a prude; grabbing coffee means this; having dinner means that; if they your arm but don’t invite you up, it means that they’re actually a KGB operative and need to give you the launch codes for a super secret missile...

Fuck that, we have words for a reason. Say what you mean and don’t waste my time. For that reason alone, Essi was already scoring quite well in Lambert’s books.

He shrugged, “You somehow remembered me from the KM Christmas party almost six months ago, and still asked for my number. I figure that at least deserves a coffee and a conversation.”

Essi was bewildered, “I didn’t ask for your number, you texted me.”

Lambert shook his head, “Impossible. No offense, but I absolutely guarantee you I did not.” He produced their short text exchange and scrolled to the top of their conversation:

Hi, is this Lambert? From the KM Christmas party?

You might not remember me, we got talking about

the political situation in Kashmir after about…

Too many drinks. Eeep!

Anyway, I’d love to get a coffee sometime, if

you’re interested.

Sorry, this is Essi Daven.

You called me Goldilocks at one point and

seemed amused XD

Hope you’re well!

Essi snatched Lambert’s phone, shocked and slightly outraged as she reached for her own device, opening her thread with Lambert. The text at the top was not from her, but from the man across from her:

Yeah, hi, this is

Lambert-from-the-KM-Christmas-party.

As it happens, I remember you and our

conversation quite well. Not many folks

happily get into drunken political discussions

You know what, I wouldn’t mind grabbing a

coffee.

Let me know if you’re free in the next couple

weeks!

Lambert gestured emphatically at Essi’s phone screen, “In what world is this an acceptable way to ask someone out?! I wouldn’t have said yes to that!”

“I don’t know,” Essi fired back, “It was straightforward! I found it charming, okay? Is that a crime?”

“No, but I have some serious concerns about your taste in men.”

“Like you’re in such a fine position to judge after the hollow, paltry invitation you accepted—which I absolutely did not write, by the way. I want to make that perfectly clear.”

“Alright, alright, cool your jets, we’ve got bigger fish to fry.” Lambert narrowed his eyes as he passed Essi’s phone back to her, “You didn't fire the first shot, so who texted me from your phone and cleared the history?”

Essi nibbled the inside of her cheek, “I can think of a few.”

“Okay, next question,” Lambert pocketed his phone, “who added you to my contacts before you texted. Because we did not exchange numbers six months ago, but your name was already there when I received it.”

Essi shrugged, “Who has access to your phone?”

“I dunno. Really just Eskel and Geralt and neither of them would—”

“Geralt.”

“Why him?”

Essi’s bright blue eyes turned steely and murderous, “Julian… They’re working together.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Are you telling me that Geralt the-last-thing-I-need Rivia and Julian Alfred these-aren't-my-pants Pankratz think we're so helplessly undateable that they decided to secretly set us up?”

“Eskel doesn’t know me that well; he wouldn’t try to set you up with someone he hadn’t vetted. Who did you talk to first when you got that text from me?”

Lambert’s eyes widened, “Holy shit, they’re working together.”

Essi nodded, a flood of embarrassment warming her cheeks. “Sorry to waste your time. You’re very nice but, um, I should just…” she got up to leave.

“Wh-hey, hold up. I mean, if you wanna go, go, that's fine, but there's something you might want to know first.”

Essi tossed her yellow bangs out of her eyes, “Oh? What's that?”

“This,” Lambert produced an Amex credit card from his breast pocket, “is Geralt's.” The cheeky glint in his eyes was a very convincing argument.

“Fine then. Coffee and a conversation.”

The coffee was hot and decent, and the conversation meandered through the usual topics of music, movies, and television, but also dipped into deeper waters as they grew more comfortable with each other’s company. Of course, it didn’t hurt that neither of them had any stakes in the outcome of this “date”. It made it easier to be frank and open, which in turn led to them quickly enjoying their time together. So much so that coffee turned into lunch, which turned into a long walk in the pleasant weather, which finally landed them outside Essi’s apartment, just around dinner time.

“I have to say, this was actually a pleasant encounter,” she said, turning to face him with a characteristic toss of her bangs.

“Yeah, who’d’ve thought two people forced together by meddling friends would actually find it enjoyable?”

“In light of that,” Essi squared her shoulders and found Lambert’s hazel-brown eyes, “I think it’s fair to say I want to see you again.”

He cringed regretfully and scratched the back of his head, “Ahh, yeah, so… I don’t know if that’s really--”

“Oh, relax,” Essi smirked with a casual touch to Lambert’s forearm. “I don't mean like that. I just mean--you're interesting and fun and, well I don't have many close friends and I feel like we connected well today.”

“Well…”

“I'll make it even simpler: I absolutely, one-hundred percent, am not interested in dating you.”

“Easy there, you know I love it when people get all straightforward with me.”

“I mean it, I just want to be friends,” she toyed back, trying her best to look sultry. It kind of worked.

Lambert bit his lower lip in mock arousal, “Mmm, oh yeah...”

She swayed her shoulders forward and back, doing her best to emulate the seductive actresses and models of the 1950s, “I want to Netflix and chill with a documentary about Soviet propaganda.”

Her last comment prompted a playfully stern look from her companion, “Careful now, you’re wading into actual turn-on territory.”

“You're such a weirdo,” Essi chuckled, giving him an endeared shove. “Seriously, though, would you like to do this again? Friends?”

He nodded sincerely, “Yeah, I think I'd really like that. Just one problem, though.”

“If we claim not to be interested in each other but keep hanging out we’ll never hear the end of it?”

“Bingo.”

Essi hummed thoughtfully and nibbled the inside of her bottom lip, “Well… we could always… pretend?”

***

“Sounds like you two are hitting it off. I’m glad. I know Essi’s been feeling a little isolated between work and being new to the city.” Geralt closed the fridge with his foot and headed towards the sofa, popcorn in one hand, three beers in the other. “I’ll take my card back, by the way.”

Lambert reluctantly handed the Amex back in exchange for a beer and perched on the arm of the sofa. “She’s really something. We’re, uh—yeah, hitting it off is a good word.”

And hitting it off, they were. The last ten days since their first “date” had been more enjoyable than all the dates he’d had in the last year combined. Essi was a fantastic companion: sharp, witty, kind, took no bullshit… They had done absolutely nothing but hang out, and no one had pried them for many details about the nature of their relationship. As far as their friend group was concerned, they were simply dating in the way that most adults dated. This also meant more time to themselves without unwanted interruptions (namely Julian barging in with his spare key to gossip about whatever fires were currently alight on twitter). The first night Lambert had been over, it took Julian all of five minutes to “grab something from the fridge” before parting with a knowing wink.

To her credit and imagination, Essi had expertly fielded her cousin’s initial barrage of questions when she first announced their “involvement.” It wasn’t that she didn’t like her cousin, Essi adored Julian, but she was also the first to admit that the man had no boundaries. What he lacked in that arena, he certainly made up for with opinions, which he was always more than happy to bestow on his younger cousin—usually dating advice, almost always unsolicited. Lambert had a much easier time convincing his side that he and Essi were taking it easy to see where things went. Between Eskel being a consummate gentleman and Geralt having his own Delicate Sensibilities, neither of them had demanded any details.

“As long as you’re both happy and everything’s healthy, that’s all that matters,” Geralt’s partner reiterated, reaching into the bowl on Geralt’s lap.

“Jesus, Eskel, you sound like my Nonna.”

“That's no way to talk to your father,” Geralt smirked into his hand of popcorn

“You're no better,” Lambert took a swig from his beer, lips popping as he lowered the bottle. “I swear, you've turned into a couple of mother hens since you two got together. Quit fussing and watch the game.”

Geralt put his arm around Eskel’s shoulders, “We have gotten a little soft haven’t we?”

Eskel huffed out a laugh, “Probably. Hey, Lambert, don't fuck it up or I'll kick your ass into next week.”

“Thank you. See? Was that so hard?”

“Eh,” Eskel shrugged, helping himself to another handful of popcorn, “I stand by my original statement. Geralt agrees.”

“It's true,” he said between mouthfuls. “Essi’s a good woman. Smart, talented, kind, attractive.”

Eskel cleared his throat.

“Eskel, she is, it's just a statement of fact it doesn't mean that she doesn’t have other…”

“I know it doesn't but I still think you could bear to be a little more…”

“Funny thing,” Lambert interrupted, “I still can’t figure out how this smart, talented, kind, attractive woman’s number programmed itself into my phone. Because I may have been drunk the night we first met, but I have never in my life forgotten a successful number grab. Fess up, fellas. Who was it?”

Eskel’s eyes widened, “Geralt, you didn’t.”

“I… may have… helped Julian gain access to Lambert’s phone.”

“Unbelievable. The betrayal,” Lambert shook his head, eyes still on the game. “If only there was some way to square things up…”

“You charged everything to my company card, didn’t you?”

“First two dates and a fresh pair of pants. Thanks, bud.” Geralt accepted a pat on the back as Eskel began gently but sternly berating him.

Lambert shook his head, smirking as he took another swig of beer, leaving the two lovebirds to bicker amongst themselves. His hip pocket buzzed and he checked his phone: Essi.

Next Wednesday? Pizza and a movie? Still can't believe you haven't seen Ocean’s Eleven.

Yeah, okay, fine. Jeez :P 7:30 my place? I'll provide beverages.

If by ‘beverages’ you mean watery beer…

Fuck off, I'll get the good stuff. Unless you prefer Arbor Mist or some shit.

*gasps* I am offended! (but also it's delicious)

*sigh* do you want me to get you some?

*turtles into hoodie* ...peach or cherry pls?

Haha okay, fine, I'll get a bottle. Can't promise I won't judge you forever, though ;)

It's okay, I deserve it. g2g, see you tomorrow! xox

***

Lambert groaned contentedly, massaging his stomach as he sprawled back on his aging brown sofa, long legs resting habitually on the coffee table. The now-empty pizza box lay abandoned on the far edge, accompanied by four empty beer bottles, and a nearly-empty, unfavourably warm Peach Arbor Mist. The toilet flushed and Essi emerged. Her dark gold hair had long ago been pulled into a messy bun, but her indigo skinny jeans had been replaced by soft-looking grey leggings.

Lambert shook his head in amusement as she settled back next to him on the couch, "I still can't believe you brought your own lounge pants"

"That's because I'm a genius," she quipped, crossing her legs and adjusting the height of her waistband. "Besides, when else will I have the opportunity to actually be comfortable during a date?"

"You took your bra off, too, didn't you?" Lambert asked without missing a beat, eyes never leaving the screen.

"Yup!" Essi confirmed, her sparkling blue eyes glinting with joy as she raised her glass to her lips.

The movie continued as the new friends settled into comfortable silence, their food-drowsy, alcohol-fuzzy states lulling them into a new level of comfortability around each other. Legs fell asleep, positions were adjusted, and shoulders leaned on as the two sought maximum comfort for minimum effort. Soon, an arm was around Essi's shoulder as she settled her cheek on a comfortable spot on Lambert's chest.

"You good?" Lambert asked, only half-irritated at her seemingly endless search for the perfect angle.

"I'm sorry, I thought I'd found a good spot, but..." A few more adjustments of her head and Lambert couldn't take it anymore.

"Jesus, woman, here. Get up for a sec."

Essi sat up as Lambert rearranged himself into a sort of semi-recline with one foot on the floor so his other leg could make room for the tiny pain-in-the-ass that was taking up the rest of the couch space. At his invitation, she wriggled up to the crook of his arm and quickly settled in. Lambert hadn't really thought about what they were doing. Not when Essi had harmlessly leaned against his arm; not when their weight settled into each other; not when Lambert had put his arm around her; not even as he was rearranging to get to where they were now. It had all just... happened. Now, though, with Essi lying still, Lambert felt the weight and warmth of her body shifting gently against his, and it dawned on him that this had the potential to be, well, weird.

But the strange thing was, it didn't feel weird. He'd fucking cuddled before, but there was always a sense of holding back, a tension in his body, being on the lookout for signals from the other person to move onto the Next Step. But now, he actually felt comfortable. There wasn't anything that was supposed to happen after this. Nobody was asking anything of him, no one sending signals he could pick up on but never read properly, no sinking feelings of dread as the other person moved in for a kiss that always felt too soon. Essi was just there, breathing, content. And Lambert was relaxed.

The woman half-on top of him gave a twitch as the credits started to roll, and Lambert let out a private laugh, "Hey, Sleeping Beauty, show's over."

Essi inhaled heavily through her nose and lifted herself up, "Hmmm?"

"Movie's over."

"Did I fall asleep? I'm sorry!" she sat and rubbed her eyes, taking a sip of water to rinse the stale taste from her mouth.

"Eh, only a little." Lambert exited Netflix and tossed the remote back on to the table. "Thought you might wanna start heading home before it gets too late."

Essi nodded in response as she grabbed the pizza box and brought it to the kitchen trash, leaving Lambert to bring the empties.

"You going to finish this atrocity of a beverage?" Lambert waggled the near-empty wine bottle at Essi as he passed on his way to the sink. She merely scowled and shook her head, letting him pour it down the drain 'where it belonged anyway'.

Essi gathered her things and met Lambert by his front door, checking her pockets for her phone and keys one last time before putting her shoes on.

"You okay to walk? Want me to come with?"

It was only 10:30 on a weeknight, and she appreciated the gesture all the same, but it was fine to walk. "Thanks, though. And thank you for tonight. I really needed to get out of the house. I hope, um..."

She trailed off, not sure how to ask. She didn't have the same physical boundaries that most others seemed to have. She was affectionate—often overly so, and it had led to more than a few misunderstandings in the past. She didn't want Lambert to feel as though she had ulterior motives when the simple fact of the matter was that she hadn't really been thinking. Between the instant relief of not actually being on a date and Lambert's easy manner all evening, she'd forgotten that most friendships didn’t generally involve that much physical contact. Would Lambert be confused now? Thinking they were onto something more than friendship? Had he been wanting more? Had she pushed past a point of no return and doomed their friendship?

She inhaled, "Were you comfortable tonight?"

For a split second, Lambert flailed, wondering whether he’d made her uncomfortable. Fuck, she'd seemed comfortable, if anything it felt like he’d been following her lead but maybe...

"I—yeah. That was, I enjoyed that. Were... were you not—?"

Essi smiled and Lambert relaxed again, "No, I was. I wanted to ask in case, that's all. Boundaries and all that. I'll text you when I'm home."

Lambert opened the door and waved her off toward the elevator, "'Kay. 'Night!"

The door clicked shut.

Okay, alright. Fine. Did they cuddle? Yes. Did he enjoy it? Fuck yes. He absolutely didn’t care what anyone might think about how he chose to enjoy his time with other people. However, this didn’t stop him from acknowledging that he was in uncharted friendship territory. More than anything, he was worried about how Essi really felt. Of course, she had no reason not to be honest with him. But the last thing he wanted to do was play fast and loose with someone’s emotions, especially not a friend, and definitely not one as close as Essi. Time would tell. As Lambert’s head hit the pillow, the memory of her warmth and weight settled over him again, and he slept soundly for the first time in months.

***

“Yes Poppet, but have you slept together yet? Honestly, you’ve been dating for almost three weeks now, what could you possibly be waiting for?”

Oh, I don’t know, hell to freeze over? You to mind your own business? Whichever comes first…

“I mean, you clearly adore one another, I’ve never seen you happier. What’s there to lose?’”

Essi scoffed.

Julian placed his hands on her shoulders, “I know it’s been a while for you, but I think you can afford to let yourself go a little, have some fun, hm? Besides, it’s better to find out sooner rather than later if you’re sexually incompatible.”

She took a deep breath, “That’s a very good point, Julian, I’ll think about that.” The dating act was starting to wear a little thin, but it was worth not having to explain to anyone that they weren’t doing exactly what it looked like they were doing.

Julian took time to give his cousin a scrutinizing look, “Well, by the look of things it won’t be long anyway. If you spend all of your time together as tangled up as you were the other night when I came over, it’ll happen sooner rather than later. Just trust your gut, and when in doubt, a little hint never goes awry.”

Needless to say, Essi more or less ignored her cousin’s advice.

As the weeks stretched on, it became evident that they were quickly becoming what most people would consider to be more than friends. The first time they pulled the covers back and climbed into bed, each on their half of the mattress, they were aware that yet another boundary of friendship had been pushed a little farther into the grey zone. But, they woke up the next morning feeling happy, content, and refreshed, and surely there was nothing wrong with two people sharing a comfortable bed. Essi had woken up with crust in her eyes and her nightgown bunched around her waist. Lambert had woken up with morning wood and his hair a mess. Neither of them cared. People wake up in the morning, big deal.

Still, it didn’t stop the questioning that oscillated in the background of Lambert’s mind. Was he unknowingly leading Essi on by allowing her so much closeness without a clearly defined relationship? She’d made her own disinterest clear enough on their first “date”, but feelings change over time. What she’d told him three weeks ago might not be true anymore…

And then there was that soft warm tingle in the middle of his chest every time she lay her head in his lap, every time he ran his fingers through her hair. He knew he wasn't in love. Not that he was an expert, but what was all that "when you know, you know" bullshit if he couldn’t trust his own feelings? He loved her, sure, but more like a... not a sister, that would be weird. He didn't know what like. Whatever. Fuck it. Eskel had said it best three weeks ago: “As long as you're happy and everything’s healthy, that’s all that matters.” Yeah, sure. We’ll stick with that.

As far as Lambert and Essi were concerned, it was what it was, and whatever it was was working… wasn’t it?

***

"Fuckin' finally!"

The door to Essi's apartment clicked closed as the tenant wilted against it, emitting an exhausted groan, "Two. Hours. It took me two hours to get home!" She toed off her penny loafers and abandoned her purse and jacket in a pile by the front door, ignoring the hook three inches to her left. She flopped heavily onto her living room carpet.

"I see you found my spare key," she added, not at all surprised that Lambert had managed to let himself in.

"Yeah, you should probably put that in a less obvious spot," he answered, crossing to the door to hang her things up. "So, I see it's a lying on the floor kind of evening. Can I interest you in a drink to start? Vodka pairs well with the general vibe of Done-With-This-Shit, or we also have tequila if you feel like shouting out the window after a couple shots. Alternatively, there's gin if you want to cry later."

Essi smiled with her eyes closed, feeling her body slowly relaxing into the spongy throw rug underneath her, "You know me so well."

"Vodka?"

"Vodka. Euch, I need to vacuum!," Essi peeled herself to a seated position as clinks and clatters began in the kitchen. She hopped in the shower to rinse the day off, and after a few minutes, there was a knock on the bathroom door.

"Yeeees?" she called, playfully.

"Drink delivery!" Lambert hollered back, "you want this now or later?"

"Why are you so good to me?"

There was a draught of cool air as Lambert opened the bathroom door, "Because you only marginally annoy me. Here," he passed his hand between the shower wall and the opaque fish-scale-patterned curtain. "What's on the docket for tonight?"

Essi groaned, "I don't know, I'm sorry. I used all my brain cells trying not to murder people on the streetcar."

"Okay," Lambert sat on the lidded toilet, "here's the thing. I kinda maybe figured that might be the case so I kinda maybe picked up a few things to make dinner."

A shampoo-piled head poked out from behind the curtain, "You're kidding."

"Nuh-uh."

"I love you."

Lambert chuckled, "Yeah, you're alright. Come on, hurry up, this bathroom's a fuckin’ sauna, and I don’t want the croutons to get soggy." Essi burbled an answer about conditioner and almost done, and Lambert took that as his cue to leave.

Dinner was simple: pan fried Salmon with crispy skin (delicate and buttery on the inside); wax beans in butter (tender and not overcooked); grilled brussels sprouts (just beginning to brown on the edges); and a fresh caesar salad. Everything done to perfection. Full, content, and ready to take their relaxation to the next step they settled themselves on Essi’s blue-grey sectional to begin the arduous task of deciding what to watch.

This was proving particularly difficult with the addition of Essi's caveat that whatever they chose not be "too plot-heavy" which so far had included Masterchef, an interior design show, and program about shepherding in the Orkneys.

"Sweetheart, you gotta give me some slack here. I thought I was on track with the sheep!"

"I know, I'm sorry!" Essi muffled into his shirt sleeve. "I do like animals..." She gasped loudly. "BLUE PLANET."

Lambert stopped the endless scrolling and pushed play as the soothing voice of David Attenborough filled the small living room.

"Hey! Why'd you pause it?"

Lambert was standing up, "If we're going to do this, then we're doing it right. Hang on."

Essi slumped on the sofa as the microwave kicked on. In a few minutes, there was popcorn in their laps and half a bottle of vodka on the table with an ice bucket and lemon wedges in a bowl. Lambert read off his phone screen.

"We will take a drink when:

-David says 'Extraordinary' -David uses a clear understatement such as 'But then again, living in an active volcano is not without its risks' -An animal is being eaten -An animal is mating -There is sped up footage of a plant growing."

"Oh no," Essi lamented, chewing her popcorn ungracefully, "I'm going to get so drunk."

"You got it, Goldilocks. Fill up."

And with that, they were off, taking it slow with their vodka twists, but nonetheless feeling the warm buzz start to tingle under their skin. The box of microwave popcorn was empty by halfway through, and the remains of Essi's exhaustion had almost dispersed entirely.

"Ooh! Understatement! Drink!!"

By ten o’clock, pink-cheeked and feeling boisterous, they had finished with their favourite parts of Blue Planet, or at least the ones they had patience for, and had moved on to Planet Earth II.

“Holy fuck, that’s a lot of snakes—Go, you little fucker! Go!”

The drama on the screen had caused the two to separate from one another while Lambert invested himself in the success of the small lizard. Once the baby Galapagos Iguana had made it to safety, they were once again able to recline without Essi risking an elbow to the face.

She bundled against him, scooting farther between his legs where he leaned in the corner of the sectional. He gathered her hair and draped it over her left shoulder so it wouldn't get caught in his buttons—they'd learned that the hard way. It was still damp, cool to the touch, and smelled like verbena sea salt shampoo. He felt a pulse of affection ripple through him as her weight resettled. He loved that feeling. It had taken some time to get used to it. But now it was high on his list of favourite things. He was happy. And it was healthy. And that really was all that mattered.

Right?

Eskel’s words turned themselves around again in his mind as he wrapped his arm around the front of Essi’s shoulders. He let himself indulge in the texture of her cotton knit nightshirt under his fingers. He relished in the peace of mind at being able to just be there with someone who meant something to him and made absolutely no demands. He let himself relax.

Essi felt a kiss land on the top of her head with a playful, "Muwah!"

She giggled quietly, "Thank you!" Then, upon further thought… Did he want to kiss her? Her mind did a double take as she tried to get on top of the ball.

It wasn’t impossible. They were close after all, and she wasn’t opposed to the idea. She’d recently found herself in a balancing act of realizing she could, in theory, have a deeper kind of feeling for Lambert. Only if, for whatever reason, it turned out he felt the same way. These weren’t the helpless uncontrollable feelings of ride-or-die infatuation; they were malleable, translatable, general feelings of affection and fondness that belonged in any number of different relationships and dynamics.

No sense risking it, she thought. They'd found a liminal space of comfort and safety that she'd never experienced with anyone else before, and if the options were between being a little confused and ruining everything, the choice was an easy one. Then again, if Lambert was developing feelings for her, she didn’t want to miss an opportunity. Shit. Her cheeks burned as she felt the question rise closer to her lips.

"Lambert?" she sat up abruptly and turned to her friend who was still moulded into the corner of the couch, watching the mating rituals of exotic birds with bewildered skepticism.

He jolted at Essi’s sudden movement, "Hello, yes."

Her bright blue eyes were now slightly unfocused, "Do you—? Nevermind." She lay back against him, suddenly skittish..

"Mm, nah, try again," he said, sluggishly. "What’s up, buttercup?"

She swayed a little when she sat up, "Are you happy with what we are?"

Lambert blinked, caught slightly off-guard. The question was easy enough to answer, "Yeah! I mean I don’t know what the fuck we are, but I’m feeling pretty good about it. Shit, why? Are you not? I can be less… whatever. Or… more?" It wasn’t like he was repulsed by the idea of anything else happening between them—in theory it was a possibility. In practice, however...

Essi put an emphatic hand on Lambert’s knee, her glassy eyes going wide, "Do you want more?"

"What? No! I dunno, I—maybe. I haven’t really thought about it. I mean…” Lambert searched Essi’s face for any clue that might help him know how to proceed, “I don’t not want anything else. Fuck, I don’t know! I’m used to doing things the other way around. You know the drill: uncomfortable date, smoosh faces together, have sex, hope feelings fall out. Lather-rinse-repeat. I dunno, do we have to… But what if we try something and...? I don’t wanna lose this."

Essi leaned in close and whispered, “I have an idea.”

"Why do I feel like I'm going to regret this?"

"We should kiss."

Lambert nearly swallowed an ice cube, "What?!"

"Just once. Quickly. Just... in case."

"You want me, Lambert, to kiss you, Essi Daven, on the lips."

She nodded sincerely, "For science."

There was a brief pause during which Essi felt the beginnings of panic brewing in her stomach, but by the time she'd finished grappling with potential consequences, Lambert was filling their glasses.

"Alright. Fine. My friend wants me to kiss her for science? Fuck it. I'll drink to that."

They downed their drinks and squared up, knee to knee on the edge of the sofa as they each prepared for their best form—or as good as they could offer given the circumstances. They counted down, 3-2-1...

The kiss was quick, over as soon as it had begun, and both friends pulled away with questioning looks. Inconclusive. They tried again for a little longer, still returning with the same quizzical expressions. They went in for a third time, committing more thoroughly, and for a brief moment it seemed they might have found the semblance of a spark. But it didn’t build. It felt… fine? But no different than if they were lying together on the sofa. It was just another thing they were doing. They each tried to find the right word for what they were feeling, but were soon distracted by the oddness of it all.

Essi started to giggle. Less than a second later, Lambert joined her, and they both pulled away, thoroughly satisfied that their experiment had yielded a strong No on the subject of More. There was a dull thud as Essi slid from the couch and onto the floor, still holding her drink in one hand and laughing hysterically.

Lambert sighed and shook his head, "I think it’s time we got you to bed."

Headaches and dry mouths greeted the two friends the next morning when they blinked awake. Essi’s hair was a cotton-candy mess, having still been slightly damp when Lambert put her to bed. The brunet himself didn’t look much different from his usual scruffy state as he gathered Essi up in an armful of duvet and squeezed tight.

“Gods, Lambert, I still need to breathe,” Essi chuckled, pressing her back into his chest.

“You’ll get over it,” he teased and self-indulgently nuzzled even closer. “You feeling alright? I mean, aside from the hangover. About last night?”

“Oh no,” Essi groaned, “I’m so sorry, Lambert. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just—you kissed my head and then that got me wondering about whether you might want something else, and then I didn’t really know what was happening and—”

“Hey, easy on the rambling, okay, I’m running on limited brain cells, here. Look,” Lambert sat up to find those big blue eyes, now shining brightly, “I have no idea what the fuck this is that we’ve got going on, but I like it fine just the way it is.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And we can keep talking about that. Just, you know, maybe next time something’s on your mind, don’t wait ‘til we’re wasted at 2am?”

“Okay, deal. Can we go get bacon now?”

Lambert chuckled, “Yeah, alright, fine. Make me put pants on, I see how it is.”

Their conversation continued over strong coffee and eggs benedicts. Between their check-in that morning and everything that had happened the previous night, it was well-established that they were perfectly happy where they were. Rather, the main topic of conversation was their growing desire to level with their friends about the nature of their relationship. Eskel and Geralt, they both agreed, would be the easiest—Lambert could tell them that evening. Julian and Essi’s friends on the other hand would be a little more difficult.

Telling Julian together would be best, Essi thought. He was bound to have questions, and if both she and Lambert were there to answer them definitively and explain that no, they didn’t have secret feelings for one another; and yes, they really were just friends and not at all interested in exploring the relationship further thank you very much. Exactly when this discussion with Julian would occur still wasn’t clear. Realistically, they could pick any time, but they decided to wait until Lambert could tell the Old Men. At least then they were assured some less invasive support.

Their reaction was easy enough to predict: Eskel reassuringly repeated his standby “As long as you’re both happy with things…” and twirled a forkful of pasta; Geralt tilted his head thoughtfully and said, “That sounds very nice. I’m happy for you.” Lambert had expected mild disapproval, concern that they were deviating too far from the norm and into a complex dynamic that would be too messy to manage. Instead, Geralt simply said it ‘sounded very nice.’ Lambert smiled into the open refrigerator on his way to get a beer.

The following weekend was Julian’s birthday, and, as per their annual tradition, the group all gathered on Friday evening at the birthday boy’s favourite restaurant—Vegelbud’s. The two decided to tell him the week after his birthday so as not to detract from his Big 3-0. Just one more week, and it would all be in the open. Easy breasy.

The afternoon of the dinner, Eskel and Geralt received a group text: Haven’t told Julian the details yet. Keep the beans to yourselves please (I’m looking at you, @Eskel).

“Why me?” Eskel turned to Geralt over his paperwork, looking a little hurt.

Geralt chuckled, “You have a slight tendency to overshare when you want to be supportive.”

“I do?” He turned on the bar stool to follow his partner on the way upstairs.

“It’s not a bad thing, but…” Geralt sighed, “Lambert has always needed to feel in control of situations like this. He doesn’t want one of us bringing this up before he’s ready to talk about it, especially in a public place, you know how he gets when he feels cornered. And Julian is Essi’s cousin…”

Eskel raised a hand, “You’re right, you’re right. All points taken. Are you showering?”

Geralt smirked as he headed for the stairs, “Come on then.”

Four hours later and halfway through dinner, everything had gone swimmingly. The food had been expectedly delicious, the company and conversation excellent, and so far no one had felt the need to bring up Essi and Lambert’s relationship on any level. That is until Julian got a few drinks under his belt, and decided it was time to document the occasion. Geralt and Eskel were the first victims.

“Aww just look at you two! So in love, so vivacious and full of adoration,” Julian held up his phone as Geralt touched the side of his head to Eskel’s. Beep-Chk! A perfect image of a happy couple was captured and posted to Instagram (#julianturns30 #dinneratvagelbuds #dinnerout #cutiesofinstagram #favoriteotp #gaycouplesofinstagram #livelaughlove…). There were a few more photos of the three of them together, the white chocolate raspberry cheesecake with the candle in it, a group shot taken by the waiter. It was all so close to being over, Essi could practically taste the refuge of the streetcar.

"Come on, lovebirds, show us a smooch!" Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Essi’s stomach lurched and she felt her cheeks start to warm. Lambert’s hand landed gently on her knee under the table, his fingers pressing firmly into her leg as she desperately tried to think of something to say.

"Oh, um..."

Across the table, Geralt and Eskel shared a wordless communication: de-escalate, distract, redirect.

“You’ll want to eat that cheesecake before it gets warm” Geralt offered. “I hear it’s so light it’ll disintegrate in a heartbeat.” Eskel nodded in encouragement, taking a bite of his own.

“I know, I know,” Julian shrugged, “Just a quick one. Say Cheese!”

"Not right now, Julian," Essi tilted her head, her eyes flashing a little.

"Oh come on, Poppet! I know you don't like PDA, it's just one little picture--"

“Don’t call me Poppet.”

Eskel cleared his throat loudly, "Doesn't seem they're that keen on it. Maybe let's try for one another time."

"It's past your one-month-a-versary, let everyone see how in love you are."

"Julian," Geralt growled, "leave it."

Julian covered his mouth in alarm, "I’m so sorry, have you not used that word yet? I didn’t mean anything by it, I just want the world to see how happy my beautiful cousin is!"

“Really Julian, it’s not necessary we—” Essi’s fingernails were starting to dig into Lambert’s palm from the sheer effort of maintaining composure. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to cry or disappear, and with neither of those being an option, it seemed the only possible escape was for them to kiss. They’d done it before. No big deal. It would feel off, but they’d just go back to her place and drink about it after.

“Essi, what’s the matter with you, it’s just one little picture, and we all know you’re not camera-shy. On three, ready? One, two…”

"For fuck's sake we're not dating!"

The table all silently turned their attention to Essi whose cheeks had been turning progressively redder.

“What?” Her cousin laughed incredulously.

“We’re not a couple, Julian. We’re friends. We have been from the beginning, but we didn’t want to tell you because we knew you wouldn’t fucking leave us alone until you could boast about having set us up.”

Lambert shared a brief look with Eskel before lowering his eyes to the tablecloth, his hand still firmly clutched in Essi’s.

Julian gaped, “So, it was all… the cuddling, the laughing, that time I came over and you were asleep on the couch, that was all… a ruse?”

“No, Julian, that was real. I told you, we’re friends.”

“That’s not friends! Since when have friends watched a movie half-on-top of each other?”

“Two people can enjoy each other's company lying flat, Julian,” Eskel’s rich voice interjected across the table and the discussion ground to a halt.

Geralt shrugged with his tea at his lips, “It is the twenty-first century after all.”

Julian’s cornflower blue eyes flitted back and forth between the two friends, utterly bewildered. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well what with your complete and utter invasion of privacy for the sake of hooking us up, we didn’t necessarily trust you to believe us,” Essi answered curtly, her hand shaking slightly.

“Poppet, you could have just told me—”

“Stop. Calling me that. And I did tell you, Julian!” she exploded. “I told you the first day I moved here. The first. Day. I said, ‘Julian, I think I want to take a break from dating until I’ve been settled for a year.’ And what did you do? Conspired with my well-meaning former mentor to hook me up with someone I had one good conversation with at a Christmas party. And do you know what? We are happy. But we’re happy in our own way. And maybe our boundaries with each other seem a little strange to you, but we’re not fooling ourselves. We don’t want to kiss each other, we don’t want to have sex, and we don’t want a relationship. And even though it’s absolutely none of your damn business, I’ll tell you anyway: we’ve talked about it. All of it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I don’t think I want to be here anymore.”

The chair legs scraped against the floor of the restaurant as Essi stood to leave, throwing her purse over her shoulder as she went. Lambert looked hesitantly around the table, “I should probably, you know…” He gestured after Essi with his thumb. Eskel gave Lambert the go ahead and he quickly stood to follow his friend out of the restaurant, leaving a very stunned Julian with the other two. He found her perched on the parking barrier in the small lot to the left of the front doors. He called to her and she looked up. Eyes shining, mascara running...

“Ah shit, you know I’m no good with this kind of thing.”

“I’m sorry, Lambert, I just—” she blew her nose, “—he just wouldn’t stop and I didn’t know what to do or say, and it all just came pouring out. I didn’t want it to. The whole time I was begging myself to stop, but I just couldn’t, it’s been bottled up for so long and-and—but it’s his birthday, and—oh, he must feel so awful! I didn’t want to make him feel bad, but—and with Eskel and Geralt there too! They must think I’m horrible! I’m so sorry, Lambert, I didn’t want it to be like this, I wanted to have him over and sit him down and be patient, and instead I’ve just made a complete mess of things. And on his birthday! It’s his birthday, oh God, this is the worst thing I could have done.” Essi choked back bitter tears as she tried desperately to stem the flow with her soggy tissue, “Are you upset with me, Lambert? If you are, I understand. Maybe we should take a break of some kind, you know. Not see each other for a while and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold it right there. Look, I’m probably not going to say any of the right stuff here, but I am absolutely not upset with you. You got that? And for what it’s worth, I don’t think us taking a break from spending time together is going to do anything. Unless you’re looking to punish yourself by taking away a nice thing which, okay. But the fact that you’re willing to ditch me instead of Arbor Mist says something about our friendship I’m not too pleased with.”

Essi turned her wide, pleading, bloodshot eyes to Lambert who cracked a smile, “Jesus, I’m kidding! You adorable fucking mess, c’mere.” He pulled his petite friend into a hug and rested his chin on the top of her head until she quieted down. Neither of them was quite sure how much time had gone by, but Essi found herself wishing it had been long enough for everyone to have gone home so she didn’t have to face whatever aftermath she’d left behind.

Meanwhile, Eskel and Geralt had settled the bill and offered to give Julian a lift back to their place for a night cap, not wanting to leave the evening on such an unsettled note. Essi needed space, and whatever company she needed, Lambert was clearly capable of providing. It was for the best, they suggested, and dissuaded Julian from trying to call her.

“Best to sleep on things,” Geralt said, tucking his card back into his wallet and giving the waiter a nod in gratitude. “We can meet for coffee this weekend and sort this out. For now, just let her cool down.”

Eskel clapped Julian encouragingly on the shoulder as they made their way into the damp summer night air. As they turned into the parking lot, they came face-to-face with Essi and Lambert who had clearly just turned to come back inside. Both cousins looked like they had seen better days: Essi’s eyes were puffy and red, her cheeks blotchy and streaked with inky makeup stains; Julian was perhaps less dishevelled, but the dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced, his boyish features now dejectedly weighted down with remorse and hurt.

“Juian, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

Essi’s cousin raised his hand, “Don’t. Please don’t. Essi, I am so, so sorry. I never meant to push you like that, I didn't realize... you both have been so happy this last month and—"

"It's okay, really, we can talk about this all another time. I'm just so sorry I ruined your birthday. We wanted to sit down with you and talk properly but..." Essi's tears welled up again, and Julian smiled weakly.

"But we both did what we always do?"

She sniffed, nodding emphatically with a tearful, "Yeah.” Julian pulled his cousin into a fond embrace while the other three clumped together to watch the reconciliation.

“Oh! Here,” Essi reached into her purse and pulled out a small, neatly-wrapped box. “Happy birthday!”

Julian opened his gift without a second thought, his face brightening instantly. The box contained a set of premium ultra-light guitar strings and a pair of concert tickets. The perfect gift. Overwhelmed with gratitude, and the atmosphere having been recovered, Julian suggested they all attend brunch together that Sunday morning, his treat by way of apology. Geralt offered to split the bill as a peace offering for his part in the initial setup, and the five made a date.

A fresh start, a promise of spending time together with fewer secrets and, Julian conceded, a few more boundaries.

#witcher rarepair summer bingo #wrsb #Platonic #queerplatonic #no romo #Geralt/Eskel #Essbert #Gereskel #Jaskier #Julian Alfred Pankratz #alcohol #drunkenness #Essi & Lambert #Essi Daven #Lambert

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allicekitty13 · 4 years

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Guess I’ll See You In Another Life

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Alice has never quite felt like she belonged in her life, frequently dreaming of another life. When she meets a mysterious stranger who seems eerily familiar will she finally get some answers?

For Jalice Week Day 6- Reincarnation

Help me, my God, this got messy. Least I got the best seat, 'Cause we put on one hell of a show. Waiting, I just keep on waiting. For the final curtain, 'Cause I just can't let go of your love. - Slow Grenade, Elle Goulding.

Alice Brandon had always been the best history student; her teachers often commenting on how it was almost as though she'd lived it. Sometimes she wondered if maybe she actually had. At the age of thirteen, she'd learned about reincarnation, a subject that had stuck with her. While an outlandish explanation, it would explain the lifelike glimpses of the past that frequently crossed her vision.

Alice Brandon had always felt like she never really belonged. Frequently dreaming of another life far too impossible to be real, yet she felt more at ease in those dreams than she ever had in reality. Everything always felt slightly off in her waking life, as though she was never supposed to be there. Alice sometimes wondered if she was even human, allowing herself to get lost in stories of Ghosts, witches, angels, and vampires.

---

It was a Saturday night, and she had a date with James. They'd been seeing each other for a few months; it had been fun, she guessed. But he seemed to want to move things in a more serious direction, and Alice honestly just wasn't that into him. She'd never been very interested in much more than casual sex with anyone; no relationship had ever felt right. Most things in life never felt right. Not the career she'd chosen as an interior designer, not her apartment. Even her family felt like they belonged to someone else.

Alice suggested she and James go to a club if she would be stuck with him for the night; she wanted to dance. She loved dancing; it felt that off sort of familiar she'd become accustomed to like she'd danced with someone special a long time ago. But she was only twenty-five, too young to have long time agos besides there had never been a someone special.

These were the thoughts flittering through her mind as they entered the club; self-reflection was inherently better than James' ramblings. "Alice, are you listening?" She looked up at his comment, prepared to make a transparent excuse for her actions. However, before being able to get a word out, she became quickly distracted by a pair sitting at the end of the bar, barely able to make out their forms through the wildly flashing lights. There was a man hunched over a glass with shaking hands, having a conversation with the most beautiful woman Alice had ever seen. Her golden hair almost glowed even in the dim lighting. When the woman stood, she was abnormally tall with unnatural grace; truly angelic.

The woman seemed agitated with the man as she strode away, passing Alice as she glode toward the exit, stopping with recognition as her eyes landed on the petite woman's face. "Ah, Alice. It won't be much longer then." It was an offhand comment meant more for herself than for Alice.

"Whatever you say, Rose." Alice stopped in her tracks, causing James to look down at her in confusion. She'd never laid eyes on that woman before, yet she was confident she was called Rose. Not only that, but how had the woman known her name.

"Oh," The woman smiled hopefully, "So it is working." She beamed at Alice before she walked away, muttering, "Damn fool never listens to me."

Alice shook the encounter off, pushing it to the back of her mind to never be thought about again. "Friend of yours?" her date had inquired.

"I've never seen that woman before in my life." She replied, eyes still trailing the woman as she exited the club. James didn't seem to care much about her response, launching immediately into a story about his week at work managing a local bank as soon as they'd taken their seats. Alice tried to listen, but the conversation, much like the man himself, was impeccably boring. She took a sip of the drink James had ordered her, a cocktail she didn't particularly care for, something she'd told him on numerous occasions when the hairs stood up on the back of her neck.

There was a pair of eyes watching her every move; she tried to ignore the feeling and focus on the exceptionally dull conversation, but in the end, whether due to boredom or curiosity, she looked. It was the man from before; his stare bore into her soul. He wore a sad expression, offering her a slight smile. Alice felt a rush under his gaze, as though she'd only just been brought to life in that moment. She was drawn to the man; Jasper was his name. A flash crossed her vision, a glimpse of golden light, of a bedroom that wasn't hers yet seemed so remarkably familiar. She was lying next to the man, just talking and laughing, it was such an intimate scene, and she was disappointed by her inability to hear what was said.

It was strange; she'd only ever seen glimpses of the past. But she'd never met this man; it didn't make any sense. First, the blonde woman, now him, Alice, felt such a personal connection to them both. She needed to talk to that man, more than just in the hopes he may have answers; she desperately needed to be near him. But as she excused herself from the tedious conversation, she caught his silhouette sneaking out the side door of the club.

What a sneaky bastard, she thought with a smirk as she navigated her way through the crowds of dancing clubgoers following him into the alleyway. He was leaning against the brick walls, hands in his pockets, a cigarette dangling from his lips. "Of course you followed." His tone flat as he lit the smoke.

"How do I know you, Jasper?"

He smirked in her general direction before looking away, choosing to stare at the rain that fell gently onto the pavement as though his thoughts weighed heavily on him, as though the conversation was causing him emotional agony. "I've lived this film before; I never like the ending. Just... try to stay away, Alice."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's better this way," He approached her, his eyes boring into hers with such affection that it should have made her uncomfortable coming from a stranger. Somehow though, it felt right. It felt familiar. Alice felt like she could spend the rest of her life under his gaze. Was this that feeling she'd been searching for on all those Tindr dates? That feeling she would never get from James? Jasper placed the sweetest of kisses on the crown of her head with the saddest of smiles and simply walked away.

Alice wanted to say something; she was confused; she had no idea what he was talking about. She needed to ask him what had happened. Wanted to tell him whatever it was they could move past it, to tell him that she needed him in her life. That she suddenly felt empty watching him walk away, but he'd fled the scene with no indication of where he'd gone. She left the club immediately, abandoning James after her interaction with Jasper. Informing him over text, she couldn't see him again. Of course, she felt terrible about ending things that way. It was a low move, but she couldn't face him after the life-changing experience.

Jasper had known her name, just as she'd known his. That man knew something about her that she didn't, and she was going to find out what that was. He clearly knew her, but he must not have known her very well. Alice was nothing if not resourceful. She was cunning, a bit manipulative, and made sure she always got what she wanted. All that being said, she was back at the club the next night, sans James.

She sat at the bar, keeping a close eye on the door so as to make sure she didn't miss him if he returned. So she was a bit surprised when the newly familiar voice spoke from behind her like music to her ears. Feeling as though she was breathing for the first time since he'd left the previous night. "You never were good at doing what I asked." He'd whispered in her ear with a smirk.

"That's me, not too great at taking orders." She spun around on the stool to face him, her breath catching in her throat as she looked he came into view, taking a moment to steady herself before continuing. "I kinda, do what I want."

"Come on, Alice." He held out an arm, which she promptly linked her own through, allowing him to lead her out of the loud building into his car. He remained silent as he drove through the streets, devoid of any people at the late hour. It was crazy, getting into a car with a complete stranger, one who became more and more of an intriguing mystery with every word he spoke. He was a puzzle she couldn't get enough of; it didn't matter where he took her. She would follow this man anywhere.

"Rosalie says you remembered her." He finally broke the silence on the highway outside of town; it was a deserted area; the only thing surrounding them vacant cornfields.

"The woman from last night? I wouldn't say I remembered her; I just knew her name. Like I knew yours." She bit her lip, wondering if she should tell him everything. She wanted to, feeling as though she could trust him. Somehow knowing he would never judge or hurt her. "I see things sometimes, crazy as that sounds." She caved, staring out the window. "Glimpses of the past, but it was different than usual when I ran into her. I saw us in an office laughing. And then, with you in the alley. I saw this beautiful golden room exceptionally well decorated; we were lying on a bed talking. It was so intimate..."

"I remember that night."

Alice looked over at him; he was smiling warmly but offered nothing else. "How is that possible? Why do I feel like I've known you forever when I've only just met you? Why do I feel like I can trust you with my life, that I'd do anything for you?" She trailed off, feeling so small as the words exited her mouth, the thought so insane as she knew nothing about the man, yet the honest truth all the same. "Why do I love you?"

Jasper turned down a dirt path into a wooded area. "I'll explain everything soon; I swear." She accepted this response, with the inexplicable blind faith she'd place in this stranger to whom she felt so connected. As though their souls were intertwined.

Jasper stopped the car, not saying a word as he exited the vehicle, coming around to the passenger's side to open the door for her. They were in a clearing surrounded on all sides by trees; a spring ran through on one side, it's babbling sound, giving a calming romantic ambiance to the scene. Looking up, Alice saw the most unobstructed view of the stars she'd ever witnessed. "Beautiful." She gasped out.

"Yes, you are." Jasper stared at her intensely. He offered her a half-smile before walking over to the middle of the clearing lying down. "Do you want to hear a story?"

"Are you always this cryptic?" She was so confused but obliged lying down next to the man staring up mesmerized at the twinkling stars.

"Once upon a time, there was an angel. He graduated with top marks…"

"Angels, go to school?"

"Alice, do you wanna hear this or not?"

"I'm just saying."

"Yes, there's a university and employment options. Anyhow, the angel had a friend who was being promoted. The friend gave him a glowing recommendation to her boss, and he was hired. He had to work with this demon; he didn't like her at first but grew to find her smart, cunning, confident, charismatic, incredibly sexy…"

Suddenly it clicked; numerous flashes of her former life rapidly crossed her vision. Dancing in her apartment, stolen kisses in their office, bedroom declarations of eternal love, that annoying mortal Bella. She saw herself standing before the god of the underworld, of her home refusing to yield. The look of helpless desperation on Jasper's face as Aro smote her. It was overwhelming; she was elated. "You're just listing adjectives now. I'm great; we get it." She chose to joke.

He seemed to understand as a relieved smile crossed his expression, "Why do I love you again."

"You just listed like five reasons, pretty sure you were gonna keep going too."

He continued recounting their story with a chuckle. "It didn't take long for the angel to fall in love with her. But their love was forbidden, and when they were found out, the gods banished them from the afterlife. Unfortunately, there was more to their punishment. The demon was cursed to be reborn every twenty-five or so years. She always finds the angel, no matter how hard he tries to stay away."

"Why would you want me to stay away? I would think you'd be elated every time I come around? Like 'Hell yeah, my girl is back. I love my awesome eternity girlfriend so much because she's basically the best, and I'm lost without her.'"

Jasper turned mournful again, scooting close, inviting her in for a hug that she readily accepted, clinging to the man desperate to do anything that might erase his despair. "You keep dying in the worst ways; that's been my punishment. I've seen it every time, held you in my arms as you faded away twenty-four times. We never get more than a few weeks together."

Alice reached up a hand to stroke his cheek allowing him to lean into her touch. "I'm so so sorry."

"Why are you, sorry? You offered me a way out; I told you I'd never leave you. Now we're stuck in this loop. I can't imagine how it feels to die over and over. I'm the sorry one; it's my fault this happens to you. Sometimes I wonder if you should have taken Aro's offer."

"I might die every few decades, but I get a clean slate ya know. You just have this endless cycle of agony; you don't get to forget. You've just had to live with it all this time. I'd much rather just die every so often than live with that eternal numbness. And don't you dare blame yourself, we both made a choice. One that I don't regret in the slightest, mind you. I'd do the same thing every time, even knowing my fate."

"I would too." He brushed her bangs out of her eyes, "Those seventy-two weeks I've gotten to spend with you have been the highlight of the past five hundred years."

"You counted the weeks? That is the most romantic, sappy dorky thing I've ever heard... kiss me, you absolute nerd." Jasper leaned in, hovering for a moment before their lips connected. Almost as though he'd been longing for this moment for quite some time. Of course, she realized what to her was a sudden desire, for him was two decades in the making. Unable to endure the anticipation Alice closed the space taking her time enjoying his taste, his warmth, the overtly pleasant feel of his mouth on her own. It was unlike any kiss she'd experienced prior; it wasn't enough, it would never be enough. Filled with passion and desire, she hungrily increased the pace pouring her soul into the action, wordlessly communicating every sudden feeling that had overtaken her. She was his, always had been, always would be.

Jasper broke the kiss, one hand rested on her hip, the other wrapped around her shoulder lovingly holding her possessively close as though he feared she would disappear before his very eyes. They remained in the clearing for hours; he caught Alice up on her past lives. He told her about the significance of the spot where they lay, how he'd woken up there after falling from heaven, how he returned to the site every so often to reflect on the choices they'd made.

When the sun began to rise, both realized how tired they were. Jasper drove them back to Alice's apartment. He'd tried to kiss her goodbye at the door, ever the gentleman. She'd pulled him inside, demanding he stay. They had finally been reunited; she refused to be parted again so soon. Of course, as always, he relented, never able to deny her anything.

Alice called out of work before crawling into bed, falling asleep in Jasper's arms, entirely content, able to rest easy for the first time since childhood.

The pair awoke only a few hours later to the ringing of Alice's cell. She begrudgingly extracted herself from her position curled up around Jasper, immediately missing the comfort of his warmth. As she glanced at the caller ID, she was livid; James' name was shown across the screen. Furious that she'd left the safe comfort she'd awoken in for this? She declined the call and furiously tapped out a short message alerting James in no uncertain words to not contact her again.

"Who was it?" Jasper asked, voice heavy with sleep reaching out for her, pulling her small body back in as he pressed gentle kisses to the nape of her neck.

"Just a clingy ex."

"Want me to beat him up?"

"Not worth the jail time." She laughed, shoving the fact that time wasn't something they had an abundance of if her past twenty-four incarnations were any indication. "What do you want to do today? Because if you think you're spending it without me, you've got another thing coming."

"Sounds to me like you're the clingy one."

"Oh shut up, you love me." His response came as a series of teasing kisses, causing her to smile widely at the surality of how her life had changed overnight. Just yesterday, Alice had felt lost as though she didn't belong anywhere, and now here she was waking up next to this man who adored her. She finally had the answers to a lifetime of questions; everything had fallen into place in peaceful bliss.

Jasper had to reluctantly pull away when his own phone chimed from the bedside table he'd left it on. He quickly replied to a message before turning his attention back to Alice. "How about coffee?" She agreed readily, scurrying out of bed to dress.

She found him waiting in her living room when she'd finished, keys in hand, ready to leave. He took her to a coffee shop only a few blocks down the road from her home. Inside, an anxious Rosalie sat waiting with three cups on the table in front of her.

"Rosie!" Alice rushed forward in excitement, embracing her former partner.

"It's so good to see you, A. You look fab as always; I'm pleased to see five hundred years hasn't impacted your sense of style."

"You've been checking in a lot recently Rosalie, are you going to finally tell me what's going on?" Jasper asked after he and Alice had taken their seats at the table.

"Not yet, not until things are set in stone. But it's looking good at the moment. Have things been going better than usual on your end?"

"Yes, actually." He smiled fondly at Alice. "It's been amazing."

"I'm tentative to say this... but if Maria is successful, you may get to come home."

"The gods will never allow that, at least not without sacrifices we aren't willing to make."

From Jasper's side, Alice nodded aggressively in affirmation. "I won't concede. Not now, not ever."

"Things are changing," Rosalie spoke in hushed tones. "I've already informed Jasper of that. Neither side is happy with what's happened to you; it's far too cruel. Carlisle and Aro were trying to set a standard to scare us from making the same choice, but it's had the opposite effect. Maria has a plan, but it has to remain of the utmost secrecy; she and I are the only two who know the details."

"Sounds sketchy; I mean, Maria is the best of the best if anyone has a chance of executing whatever the underworld you two have planned, it's her. Just... don't put yourself in harm's way for our sake." Alice reached out as she spoke to squeeze the angel's hand. "You're important to me too, partner."

"I promise, we'll stay safe; besides, we're in too deep to back out now. It should come to a head by the end of next week... Just." She looked at Alice very seriously. "Stay alive until then, okay?" Alice nodded with a newfound fierce determination. If Rosalie and Maria were risking it all to save them, she would do whatever it took to help on her end.

Rosalie seemed to accept that response as she stood and promptly exited without even a goodbye. Leaving just Jasper and Alice alone with their coffee and their thoughts. They sat in comfortable silence, holding hands across the table, words not needed. Alice saw James only a fraction of a second before he saw her. As he noticed, her hands intertwined with Jasper's, a fury set over his expression, and he stomped over to their table. Seeing the murderous look in Jasper's eyes, she squeezed his hand, hoping the action would communicate that she had a handle on the situation. Still, his glare as James arrived would strike fear in even the boldest of demons. She kind of liked this protective side of him.

"Don't even start," She cut James off before he'd had a chance to open his mouth. "I'm not your problem anymore, James. I told you from the get-go I wasn't serious about our relationship. I'm sorry about how I ended things, that was cruel, and I could have handled it better. But we were never exclusive, and I've told you that I'm not interested in moving forward with you in no uncertain terms. What I do with my time is up to me; please leave me alone."

Jasper and Alice sat in tension, waiting for him to get upset, to yell, or protest. In the end, he only smirked, leaving with a comment about how he'd been seeing someone else for weeks anyhow. Evidently, he hoped the statement would cut at her pride as he glanced back to see how his words had affected her. Had the confrontation occurred yesterday, it may have worked; she would have questioned what was wrong with her, how she always messed things up. But everything had changed; as she sat now in a hopeful bliss, she gave up no reaction.

The next two weeks were the best of Alice's life, time spent with Jasper never seeming to be enough. Going back to work the next day was a struggle; she spent most of the day fanaticizing about the man who had suffered so many years just for her waiting back at her apartment. Not actually making any progress on the interior design project due in only a few days. They spent their time cuddled on the couch watching movies, playing video games, and engaging in some of the most mind-blowing sex Alice had thought possible.

Every day was tenser than the last, both expecting her untimely demise to come any day. Jasper took advantage of every second, stealing a kiss at any opportunity, always had an arm around her when possible, expressing his love in every conceivable way whenever he could. Her heart went out to the man; Alice imagined she'd likely do the same in his position. If she knew she'd have to live every day for two decades awaiting his return, she knew she'd savor every second.

Alice had crawled into bed one night knowing something was wrong, his sadness so intense she could feel it radiating off of him. She'd settled into his arms, as usual, placing delicate kisses across his bare chest. She'd hoped that a comforting touch would be enough to lift his spirits. When it didn't help, she scooted up in the bed to brush his hair out of his face, "What's wrong, babe?"

He didn't respond at first, choosing to gently brush his thumb over her shoulder in lazy circles. She'd learned over the past week not to be offended by his long silences, that he liked to think his responses through before speaking. So she enjoyed his closeness while she waited until he eventually spoke. "I'm afraid, what if Rosalie fails? I'm terrified that I've gotten my hopes up and this won't work. I don't want to lose you again." It was a topic she'd been avoiding but knew was inevitable.

"Then we find each other again next time, we keep finding each other until something does work. Look to the possibilities of the future, not the pain of the past. Just promise you won't try to stay away from me ever again. That you'll always come find me as soon as you can. Swear to me that you'll never give up even if it takes all of eternity."

His reply had been simple as he pulled her tighter against him, "Okay, I promise."

Rosalie had been right on schedule; she'd texted Jasper precisely two weeks after their last meeting. Her relief evident as she laid eyes on Alice, still breathing, still in one piece, still alive. Her appearance was in shambles, as though she'd been through a harrowing experience. "Your free, both of you." She exclaimed on the verge of tears. "We did it! You can come home."

"What are you talking about, Rose?" Jasper gaped in disbelief.

Rosalie explained how after learning of Maria's loud protests of the punishment Jasper and Alice had received, she had approached Maria. The outspoken demon had been working behind the scenes to convince the demons of how Aro must have ulterior motives; after all, seduction is a sin, so wouldn't seducing an angel, the purest of all beings, be considered quite an accomplishment? Something to be celebrated?

Rosalie had wanted nothing more than to help her friends; the punishment was unjust and didn't fit the crime. She'd felt so betrayed by Carlisle for doing this. Angels were pure beings of goodness and kindness; it didn't make any sense that her friends had been cast out for love, the purest thing in the universe. Angels were meant to be forgiving; why had Carlisle offered Jasper no opportunity to repent. There was so much Rosalie didn't understand, but she knew there was no way she could trust the gods.

So the pair hatched a plan to create an army of demons and angels who wanted a change. They staged a coup, dethroning both Carlisle and Aro. Maria had seized the throne of the underworld for herself, her first action being to release Alice from her eternal sentence of death and rebirth. The angels had set up a democracy of sorts; Rosalie was in charge for the time being. The angel had blushed profusely upon telling her friends that she was God now, and they could return home without conceding their love.

"Okay, what are we waiting for!" Alice had exclaimed, beyond ready. Elated at the concept of going home, of being free to spend all of eternity with the man she loved. The man she'd suffered for, who'd suffered for her in equal measure.

They were greeted to cheers, hugs, and tears, both awarded a much-needed vacation before going back to work. Returning to the office where the entire ordeal had started.

"No way, she's still here?" Alice gaped at the file sat on her desk as Jasper looked over her shoulder in equal bemusement. Alice shook her head as she snapped her fingers, summoning the mortal soul they were meant to sway.

"Hello, again, Bella."

#jaliceweek20 #Jalice #alice cullen #jasper hale

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kiruuuuu · 4 years

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More BB/Goyo in which Goyo is slowly going mad. On several accounts. (Rating E, fluff/humour/resolved sexual tension + smut, ~5.2k words) - written for @kiruuuuu seeing as she continued obsessing about these two after this piece.

Blackbeard is slowly but surely driving him insane.

One big part is the physical aspect, Goyo isn’t denying it – and if it were only that, he’d be as far from complaining as he could be. If his biggest problem was Blackbeard's attractiveness, he’d live in an almost ideal world with most of his dreams coming true, but as it is, the deep-seated desire burning low and slow in his groin merely ensures Goyo doesn’t forcibly eject Blackbeard from his life again due to all the other reasons the American is personally raising Goyo’s blood pressure. He should’ve expected this outcome and largely did, yet imagining having to combat vague incompatibilities while cruising high on happiness hormones which are released in laughable quantities every time he receives a friendly text over the holidays was somehow decidedly easier to stomach than dealing with actual issues face-to-face.

Goyo knows himself, as does Amaru, which is why he doesn’t disagree with her suggestion of meeting in public the first few times. He’s always been weakest right at the beginning of a fancy, daydreaming of scenarios that leave him short of breath and having to adjust his trousers, hoping they don’t betray him if he happens to be in a public space. Despite knowing better, he’s dived head first into physical relationships and paid the price for it, and after having slept with a married man once (without his knowledge, though the blame of hastiness lay upon him regardless), he vowed to improve. Besides, he suspects Blackbeard hasn’t dated a lot of men, so he should take it slow anyway.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t prepared for the change in wardrobe following a throwaway comment about camouflage patterns because not only did Blackbeard take him seriously and dressed differently for their dates from then on (which is a turn on already), his shirts are also very tight. Not unacceptably so, but entirely too tight for someone with pecs this pronounced. In moments when it was hard to deal with Blackbeard's personality, Goyo reminded himself as to why he was still around by eyeing up Blackbeard's chest and Christ. He would love to grope him for hours. Maybe suckle on those puppies. God.

It doesn’t help that he’s changed his aftershave as well. Goyo felt genuinely bad complaining about so much right away, even if it was done through careful euphemisms and half-jokes he practised beforehand, and promised himself to compliment Blackbeard elaborately should he act on it – but never did he expect for Blackbeard to dip into the nearest shop with him to try and find a fragrance Goyo liked. He claimed he was tired of his old one but hadn’t found an excuse to switch so far, and offered his own opinions additionally to Goyo’s, meaning the entire thing felt organic and constructive instead of passive-aggressive or, worse, blindly compliant. As a result, Goyo stands that tiny bit closer whenever he can. Prolongs their hugs. Inhales consciously whenever they kiss. He loves a good-smelling man, and Blackbeard has turned from handsome to painfully sexy.

He makes sure Blackbeard knows, too. He might be picky and demanding, but he would like to think of himself as appreciative, so whenever he notices the American looking or smelling exceptionally good, he remarks on it. And the delighted expressions he reaps are worth feeding this inflated ego. He doesn’t think the other man has been complimented on his appearance much, certainly not by fellow guys.

The very first thing they fight about is punctuality. As inevitable as death. It turns into a recurring theme as they simply can’t agree on anything and Goyo’s laid-back attitude towards time sparks nothing but disbelief in Blackbeard – he does learn by setting their meeting half an hour before he actually arrives, but whenever he’s meant to pick Goyo up by car, he shows up on the dot and paces impatiently around the flat without taking his shoes off while Goyo finishes whichever task held him up. Blackbeard calls him rude, Goyo waves him off, and the whole drama repeats the next time. They even have a long talk about it, with Goyo stressing the importance of enjoying life at one’s own personal pace, and Blackbeard calling on politeness and prioritising others over tasks such as washing the dishes.

Related to this, Blackbeard always requires an exact plan while Goyo prefers adapting vague ideas to actual circumstances. There’s no spontaneity in most of Blackbeard's actions, he’s rigid and inflexible and it drives Goyo absolutely nuts. After having agreed on watching a film that night, they walk past a fantastic-looking restaurant Goyo instantly wants to try out, and Blackbeard flat out refuses. Just says no. Claims their original plan was superior simply because it was made earlier, and when Goyo points out that literally nothing is stopping them from having dinner together instead of sitting at the cinema for a few hours, Blackbeard is having none of it. He’s hungry, he agrees with Goyo’s assessment that the place looks inviting, and yet he won’t budge. How did he get to where he is now with this attitude?

Also, Blackbeard is loud. And by this, he’s not even referring to his deafening voice – he’s a pitchman manqué – but rather his behaviour as a whole. Nigh everyone can tell his country of origin due to him constantly approaching perfect strangers, which Goyo finds exceedingly rude. People just want to mind their own business, as does he, and he wouldn’t appreciate being accosted by some random dude on the street. Blackbeard has the gall to call him rude as a result and defends himself by pointing out he leaves the grumpy ones alone and has a lovely chat with the rest who seems to enjoy their talk. Blackbeard has no qualms cursing in public and calling out unacceptable behaviour, and Goyo preferred the ground to swallow him whenever his companion starts an argument with a line skipper or someone parking like an idiot.

What, am I supposed to just tut and walk away?, Blackbeard scoffs, his tone making clear what he thinks of the British nation as a whole.

There are countless other details: Blackbeard's apartment is messy. He can’t cook for the life of him, yet is an utter baking snob. He leaves the toilet seat up. He loves the worst kind of cheesy patriotic action films and accepts no criticism on this. The music in his car leaves Goyo’s ears ringing for the rest of the evening. He seems to think kissing is the only worthwhile public display of affection. He’s ignorant about most other cultures yet fancies himself open-minded because his best friend is Korean – this only means he compares anything and everything either to the States or Korea. Getting him to eat anything he hasn’t tried before is an uphill struggle. Except if it’s Korean.

Vigil seems to get a pass on nearly everything, and Goyo is beginning to think Blackbeard either had or still has a crush on the man. He’s empathetic and understanding as can be with Vigil, and almost seems to enjoy arguing with Goyo. It’s getting old fast.

And then there are those other moments. The ones so sharp and vivid they linger in Goyo’s mind long after the fact, bright and warm like a sip of good alcohol, and almost as intoxicating too. They end up eating in the restaurant after all, and Goyo is mentally preparing for the backlash if it turns out to be rubbish – not that he thinks it will be, but he’d rather outline his defence already. In the back of his mind, he’s wondering whether he’s the stubborn one in this case, with his insistence to get his way showcasing his own inflexibility. His mother taught him to be kind whenever he can afford it, yet past experiences and an underlying pessimism usually convince him he can’t. He knows she’d be disappointed with how often he chooses the less compassionate path.

“I’m not good at this”, Blackbeard announces out of the blue, throwing Goyo off once more. This happens regularly, him spiralling and conducting a whole other conversation in his mind, and Blackbeard interrupting his thoughts with something outlandish. Most of the time, Goyo is relieved about it. He tends to get lost and is glad whenever he’s brought back to the present.

Since there’s no indication as to what he means, Goyo needs him to clarify. “At what?”

“Just… this.” And Blackbeard gestures somewhere between them. “Compromising. Letting someone else into my life. Listening.”

I know someone else who’s terrible at all three of those, Goyo thinks and doesn’t say.

“But I like you. And I want to get better. So please be patient with me and talk to me. Okay?”

Blackbeard likes him.

Idiotically, hearing it out loud makes him giddy as if this was a new revelation, but then his brain latches on to the much more important implication of Blackbeard wanting to communicate, being willing to work on himself and on the both of them, admitting faults. It’s a beacon of hope and one he didn’t expect – Blackbeard has never struck him as particularly introspective, not with how he values arbitrary rules above creative thinking, yet it seems he underestimated him. He’ll have to correct his mental image and allow Blackbeard to improve.

“Yes. That sounds good”, he replies after mulling over Blackbeard's words for a bit, prompting a sigh of relief. And, to throw him a bone: “You’re doing good.”

A scoff. “Am I though?”

“You are. Why else would I say it?”

“I don’t know. You just…” Blackbeard lowers his gaze, searching for the right thing to say. “I’m nervous around you.”

Goyo laughs. Can’t help it, he bursts out with a brief laugh turning into a hearty chuckle because – Blackbeard gets nervous? He dreaded being in the same room as the American early on and never managed to settle down in his presence, and now he’s learning it was reciprocal? Had he known he could’ve scared him away, he might’ve confronted Blackbeard earlier, returned the sass, threw his weight around a little. Instead, they were watching each other like hawks for ultimately only marginally different reasons. Nothing about Blackbeard is adorable, but this is the closest thing to it: him being bashful, admitting his crush, relinquishing power and inviting himself to be mocked. Goyo is delighted.

“You don’t need to be”, he reassures and runs his fingertips over the back of Blackbeard's hand, a gentle gesture he seems to appreciate.

There are these moments which remind Goyo why he gave Blackbeard a chance in the first place, and they are what keep him going whenever Blackbeard starts arguing in favour of one of his ‘life principles’.

“I made a mistake”, Goyo states, not bothering to hide his fatalistic tone of voice.

Amaru is instantly entertained. Her optimistic and easygoing attitude is part of the reason why she got along so swimmingly with Goyo’s mother, and also why he’s endlessly grateful for her presence in his life: she helped him get past failures whenever his mum wasn’t available, and provided encouragement and support whenever he needed it. It’s also why he keeps bothering her with his problems. “Does it have anything to do with your new relationship?”

She watched from a distance as he made his first few questionable choices in his dating career, ready to pick him up and dust him off whenever he’d fallen down. He learned to accept and value her advice once he realised she was never wrong, so he’s hoping she can assist him with his current predicament. “How did you guess?”, he sighs, not requiring an answer. “They’re showing a documentary I’m interested in on TV this evening, and I mentioned it to Craig.”

“So now he wants to watch it with you?”, his aunt surmises, making him nod. “Which means you’d have to spend the evening with him without falling victim to his manly wiles.” He nods again, looking pained. “And you want me to give you the go-ahead for making up an excuse so you don’t have a bad conscience when you cancel on him.”

Well. Maybe she was the wrong person to approach about this. “When you put it like that, it sounds… bad.”

She raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Don Goyo, you’re old enough to not need my approval. Which you’re not going to get anyway, before you ask.”

“I have a feeling I know what you’re about to say to me.”

“Just tell him. If you’re not ready, he needs to know. He deserves to know, César.”

It’s not that he isn’t ready. If it was for him, they’d have fucked in the nearest public stall on their second date, he’s been dreaming about strong arms and an insistent tongue for almost the entire month that they’ve been dating. He’s overripe, and still – it doesn’t feel right somehow. Like he should wait a little longer. They’ve gotten to know each other much better, anticipating each other’s moods, making small gifts here and there and texting daily. Even so, there’s just something.

“Don’t brood. Go and talk to him. Either he respects your boundaries and everything’s good, or he refuses and you can launch him into outer space. No matter the outcome, you’ll be off better than before.”

She must sense his hesitation as she tries to instil her wisdom a few more times before giving up and wishing him a pleasant night. He leaves, conflicted – he doesn’t want to hurt Blackbeard's feelings by rejecting him before even anything happens, and at the same time he’s not comfortable actually reaching below the belt yet.

He’s hoping Blackbeard simply doesn’t try anything. It’s the best case scenario.

About eight hours later, all Goyo can think between different versions of God this feels so fucking good is: this didn’t go to plan at all. Blackbeard is buried up to the hilt and Goyo is grateful for being momentarily distracted so he has an excuse not to think critically about what’s happening right then.

And it started out so well.

Goyo arrives only fifteen minutes late, which he thinks is more than reasonable even if Blackbeard doesn’t comment on it, and takes note of the slightly less messy flat – it’s not even that bad normally, some dirty dishes scattered around and pieces of clothing, but at least they give the otherwise relatively barren apartment some character. They kiss as a greeting, briefly, as Blackbeard is busy heating up something to eat, and then sit on the couch with plates on their laps, chatting about their day while waiting for the program to start.

It’s domestic. It should be relaxing and pleasant, not nerve-wracking, but after sitting next to Blackbeard for ten minutes of serious introduction and noticing how his sweatpants don’t really do a good job at hiding anything, Goyo knows he won’t do anything to stop him should he make a move. In a way, it’d be a relief: get it over and done with, don’t dwell on it, move on. The anticipation is putting him on edge, keeps his hairs standing up and his breaths measured. He’s hyper-aware of his knee brushing against Blackbeard's, the broad chest next to him rising and falling, the thumping of his own heart.

He can’t concentrate. Images flash on the screen, a soothing narrator recounts past horrors in a deep voice and historical photographs take turns. He’d actually been looking forward to watching this programme, and should’ve known doing it together with Blackbeard would end in disaster, yet wasn’t prepared for himself being the culprit. Blackbeard has beautiful arms, oozing latent strength and tanned nicely, the dark hairs making them even more appealing. Maybe he doesn’t shave his chest. He probably doesn’t, would consider it unmanly, and with how lush and full his beard is -

“Can I get you a beer?”

Goyo blinks. It’s a commercial break, he hadn’t even noticed. “No”, he says, and thinks: and I’d rather you didn’t have one either. The taste of it is revolting to him.

“I’ll just get one for myself then”, Blackbeard replies, already risen from the sofa, and makes the mistake of leaning down for a quick, once again domestic kiss. It’s reciprocated just a tad too enthusiastically, so Blackbeard pushes back and after a few more seconds they’re tongue wrestling with an uncomfortable height difference between them. The angle is awkward but the feel of it amazing – and this is something Goyo has openly admitted numerous times: he loves the way Blackbeard kisses. Adores it. Can’t get enough of it. It’s intense and deep and wet and leaves him panting every time, with this being no exception.

He drags the other man in, forcing him to steady himself with one knee on the couch, one knee right between Goyo’s legs and both hands cupping his face. This, too, is shockingly sexy, the way Blackbeard keeps him in place to take him apart. Goyo reaches out and runs his fingers over Blackbeard's body and dear God his thighs are like stone, and his back muscles pronounced, and his abs too. He’s tilted far back now, the bear hovering over him, solid and threatening and like a rock set in motion. Soul-crushing. Inevitable.

They kiss until the break is over, until at least one of them is making these embarrassing little noises, until Goyo’s lips feel swollen and his cock is harder than it’s ever been in his life, until Blackbeard breaks off, flushed, sweating and dishevelled, and Goyo wants to suck his dick or he’ll die. Making out has always been Goyo’s weakspot, and making out like this is guaranteed to leave him weeping and ruining his underwear, and he knew Blackbeard was gonna try something. He just knew. They wouldn’t have snogged like this without purpose, without an ulterior motive, without the intention of moving on to more sinful things now.

“We should”, Blackbeard starts and has trouble focusing his gaze, “let’s – I mean -” His sweatpants really don’t let him get away with anything. Unbelievably, he disengages and plops down next to Goyo. Apparently he wants to keep watching, which is the sensible thing to do.

Yes. A good idea. Getting caught up in the moment isn’t what Goyo wants anyway.

Blackbeard is radiating heat. His confident persona has crumbled, revealing a passionate yet considerate lover, a man torn between doing the right thing and doing what feels right. Right now, his upper brain seems to be winning, or maybe he figures if he behaves, Goyo will reward him regardless, or he’s hoping Goyo will stay the night and they can fuck later, or he’s playing hard-to-get. The last option would be hilarious, since Goyo isn’t interested in buying what Blackbeard is selling for now. They should really go back to watching TV, and when it’s over, they can talk a little, and then Goyo’s going home.

Two minutes later, he’s straddling Blackbeard's lap while shoving his tongue so far down the other man’s throat it’s a miracle he’s not choking, and nearly coming in his own pants from the bit of friction he manages to get between his dick and Blackbeard's taut stomach. He’s a fucking magnet and an oven with how hot he is, mewling into the kiss like someone who’s desperate for any kind of attention, like a starving or drowning or poisoned man, like – like Goyo. His beard is soft and smells good, and when Goyo’s hands stray below fabric, he finds more hair on a broad chest and buries his fingers in it. The rugged edge Blackbeard visibly sports continues where the normal gaze doesn’t penetrate, Goyo is relieved to discover, and he can finally feel up these gorgeous tits. Get his hands on them and massage them however he likes.

His nipples are delightfully sensitive and Goyo spends too much time teasing them while sucking deep purple bruises just below Blackbeard's collar until he’s worried about Blackbeard exploding under his merciless ministrations. Frotting has been knocked down in priority now that he can twist strangled moans out of the hard body beneath him, but when his cock throbs almost painfully at a gasp, he knows they can’t go on like this.

“Please give me a moment”, Blackbeard gasps out, cheeks rosy and eyes unfocused.

Again, a reasonable request. He should listen.

“Bedroom”, he snaps and it’s not even a suggestion. He can feel his hole pulsing with the irresistible desire of getting plowed and when Blackbeard, after a second of disbelief, picks him up to carry him through the flat, Goyo is thankful for his foresight to bring condoms and lube regardless of his intentions. He had a hunch Blackbeard would try something.

They only shed what’s necessary (and the shapely legs are somehow only improved with socks on, but Goyo has been told before that it’s a sock fetish at this point) and preparation is an unceremonious affair except for the fact that Goyo sucks on Blackbeard's nipples until they’re raw and too sensitive while fingering himself open. The American has a great body, he has to admit, well-developed muscles, some scars here and there, coarse black hair adorning tanned skin and an upward curved cock beautiful enough to have Goyo’s mouth water, so sitting down on it feels predictably mind-blowing.

He does most of the work, which is fortunate as he can experiment with angles until he’s found one that actually makes him go cross-eyed, and once Blackbeard draws the connection between his blissful groans and whatever’s happening between their legs, he starts thrusting up and dear Lord.

This isn’t what Goyo had in mind when coming over, and yet he can’t find the brain capacity to regret or even care right now, not with how urgent his lust is tugging on his nerve endings, forcing him to ride towards exhaustion and cramps and an impressive muscle hangover the next day. Being able to steady himself on Blackbeard's torso is surprisingly sexy and the sheer barrage of pleasure bursting through him every time he slams down his hips keeps him from touching himself, effectively prolonging his sweet suffering.

Moving in unison has never felt this good and for once, they’re on the same wavelength, exchanging devoted gazes and trading the odd kiss. It’s akin to a reunion instead of a first time, like they’ve rehearsed this song and dance to perfection in the past and, despite a certain rustiness, are quickly finding back into their old routine.

When Goyo comes, his vision goes colourful with how tight he’s squeezing his eyelids shut. He shakes violently while balanced on Blackbeard's hips and gasps for air, overwhelmed by the elation accompanying his release and shooting his sperm all over Blackbeard's mangled chest, over the lovebites and the red marks his hands left behind from carrying his weight. His relief is crushing, and so he slumps down bonelessly, allowing the other man to pump into him a few more times before announcing his own climax with a low moan. Instinctively, it seems, Blackbeard’s palms travel over the back of his sweaty t-shirt, petting him reassuringly.

Goyo doesn’t like it. It feels like too much, like overstimulation after a long, satisfying session even though his was hardly long but certainly satisfying. He shakes the hands off and climbs down, trying to catch his breath. Next to him, blue eyes snap to his face, too attentive. Blackbeard looks like he’s not sure what to say. Goyo could lighten the situation, compliment him, make a joke, or be sincere about how much he enjoyed himself. Because he did.

Even with the afterglow fading fast.

“I’ll go shower first”, he announces and leaves with a quick kiss that seems unsubstantial. He’s gone before Blackbeard has even taken the condom off, and the sensation of dirtiness clinging to his skin seems to go beyond bodily fluids. Scrubbing himself with the only loofah (and isn’t that a surprise) wouldn’t be right, so he uses his own fingers to wipe off the odd feeling.

Blackbeard is sitting on the edge of the bed when he returns, and now he can finally place the source of the awkwardness between them: he’s not babbling. Normally, he’d have commented on Goyo’s stamina, maybe how great his arse looked, recounted an anecdote of some sorts, or even attempted a lame joke, yet all he’s doing is watching. He looks a little lost. Silvery droplets are caught in his chest hair and when they kiss again, Goyo deflects a hug with the excuse of wanting to remain clean, demands that Blackbeard go shower as well.

The bed is large and tidier than the rest of the room, as if Blackbeard had anticipated them ending up here. Despite the general lack of colour in the apartment, the duvet is beautiful with a dark turquoise pattern. The cushions look fluffy, but not too soft. It looks inviting. Goyo did bring a spare pair of underwear, knowing their shoe and therefore sock size is the same, and he briefly pictures waking Blackbeard up by sucking him off. It’s unlikely to happen, with how different their morning routines are – what little he knows anyway – and still, the image is most tempting.

He gets caught in the hallway with one shoe on his foot already, the other in his hands.

His stomach drops and speech evades him out of shame as Blackbeard leans against the door frame, tight briefs highlighting all his best assets. Oddly enough, he doesn’t seem disappointed or hurt, which does nothing to quell the burning feeling of being a disgrace eating away at Goyo’s insides.

“What are you doing?”, he asks, no reproach in his voice. Patience is one of his virtues and one he displays right now – if there was ever a moment when Goyo expected an outburst, an indignant rant, it’d be now. Instead, he picks up on a hesitant disquiet, an uneasy curiosity. Blackbeard doesn’t know what’s going on, but he knows it’s important, therefore he treats it with the same mindfulness he does any serious issue.

Goyo owes him this. If there’s anything he owes this man, it’s an attempt at an explanation. Since he’s formulated it before, talked it through with past partners, he’s not unprepared yet dreads bringing it up nonetheless. “I have… commitment issues”, he replies softly.

The answering silence is one of racing thoughts, he can read it on Blackbeard's open expression. “Do you want to talk about it?”, he eventually wants to know. For a guy with no idea of how to deal with this, he’s faring remarkably well.

“I am talking about it.” Defensive. He inhales deeply before continuing. “I have trouble opening up to others. I prefer keeping most of me to myself. I can’t trust easily.”

A nod. It hurts; it means Blackbeard has noticed but didn’t dare bring it up. Always the same thing. Goyo fights down a pang of annoyance – part of his mind tries to convince him they don’t deserve him: either they mention it, which makes them whiny complainers not ready to give him time, or they don’t, which means they don’t care enough. It’s bullshit and pops up in the back of his head every time. “Am I suffocating you?”

He almost laughs at the ridiculousness of the notion. Blackbeard, who maybe suggests a quarter of their dates, who never complains about Goyo taking some time to reply to messages, who always accepts when Goyo wants to go home, seriously thinks he’s clingy. If anything, Goyo would like for him to be more overbearing, insert himself into Goyo’s life more aggressively. “No. You’re giving me all the space I need.” Too much, at times.

“Am I doing anything wrong?”

Well. What isn’t he doing wrong. Goyo’s heart melts a little over this brute trying to figure out why his lover is sneaking out on him, when it’s nothing but Goyo’s ugly side finally showing. He’s being unfair. “I didn’t want to sleep with you”, he says and knows instantly it was the worst possible thing he could’ve said, with how Blackbeard gains a look of horror, paling immediately, arms dropping by his side, slack, mouth working out an apology before the meaning has even reached his brain. Bad with words. This one he can’t really chalk up to bad timing. “No, that’s not what I meant. I wanted it and I liked it. I really did.” He’s flustered, flailing now, in unfamiliar territory, allowing the first thought to drop out of his mouth without scrutinising it first, and feels like it only gets worse. “But I – I had myself convinced I didn’t want it. Because, I don’t know. I’m -” Scared, he can’t bring himself to say. He knows it’d tear a wound which might not heal so easily. “Look. I’ll go. You don’t have to deal with this.”

No one should have to deal with him like this, sputtering and ashamed to the core, cheeks hot and composure non-existent. He wants to go home and hide for the next century and if Blackbeard told him now he’s not worth the trouble he’s causing, he wouldn’t even object.

“Don’t.” A plea. Heartfelt, for what it’s worth, but any other way and Goyo would already be putting on his second shoe. “I don’t know what to do, or what to say. I don’t know what you’d like me to do or say.”

Neither does Goyo. That’s the whole problem.

Blackbeard must be cold, nearly naked and standing in the faint draft coming in from under the door. He shifts his weight uncomfortably as they stare at each other. Please, Goyo thinks, unsure of what he even means by that. But when the next words hit his ears, he knows it’s what he’s been hoping for: “Just… come back to bed. Okay?”

The shoe hits the ground with a sharp sound cutting through the tense atmosphere between them.

Unsurprisingly, Blackbeard prefers being the big spoon. They fight over the blanket since Goyo needs it to sleep whereas Blackbeard insists it’s entirely too warm, and the familiar back-and-forth calms his racing heart. As does the gentle hand rubbing vague circles into his chest while they cuddle. After a few soothing moments, he asks the dreaded question of when Blackbeard's first alarm will go off, resulting in even more bickering.

“I really wanted to watch that documentary”, Goyo mumbles regretfully against the arm he’s cradling like a stuffed toy, partly because it’s wonderfully warm and partly because the skin-on-skin contact does funny things to his stomach. Being pressed against the length of Blackbeard's body is magical. He hasn’t felt this safe in a long while.

“Don’t worry, I recorded it.”

The reply, half lost in his hair, gives Goyo pause. If they could actually see anything in the impenetrable darkness Blackbeard requires to sleep peacefully, he’d turn around in indignation. “So you expected something like this to happen?”

He can feel the smile against his scalp. “Call it wishful thinking. Doing nothing but kissing did take its toll.”

Huh. Seems like he was right.

Blackbeard really did plan on trying something.

#rainbow six siege #blackbeard #goyo #blackbeard/goyo #thiod #fanfic #this is far from the last time you'll hear from these two #bb is trying so hard #good thing goyo threw him a bone iykwim #this is a hole I didn't expect to fall into

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fruit-teeth · 5 years

Text

Phantom Connection

/(AAghgsiwdhwj this is another free-write I wrote and it is ALSO mpreg trash again!! Because of course, it is with me...anyway this one gets a little graphic though so I’m gonna slip it under a ‘read more’ to be safe. Anyway, hope you like!)/

Mission trips were always tedious. While they could be fun, what with getting to see new places and spending time away from the base, these trips were also very time-consuming and even dangerous from time to time. Yet it was one mission that would change the way the mercenaries looked at these responsibilities for a very long time.

Heavy, Demoman and Engineer were all returning from a long mission trip which had been stationed a few states over. They left early in the morning once all had been said and done, and now they were on their way back to the base.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary-- the three were chatting, sharing stories, and Engineer had even put in a music tape to play.

“This is one of my ma's favorite tapes,” he explained, turning up the volume. “I used to listen to it all the time as a kid, and I can even play a few of these on guitar,”

In the passenger seat, Demo listened, and he remarked, “Ah, not bad! Sounds like somethin' my mum would listen to too, but she doesn't listen to tapes much,”

“My mother does not own any music,” Heavy piped up from the backseat. “But maybe I will buy her tapes at Christmas,”

“Good idea!” Engineer agreed, supportive. His hands gripped the steering wheel as his eyes watched the road ahead.

It was then, however, that things began to change a bit. Engineer got very quiet all of the sudden, and whenever Demo or Heavy would say something he would only make grunts or 'hm' sounds in response. Both men in the car noticed immediately, and Demo was the first to take action.

“You all right there, lad?” Tavish wanted to know, concern present in his voice. “Ye need to make a stop?”

Engineer didn't respond for a long moment, trying to focus on the road while he forced down a wince. “What?” he asked after a few seconds of silence, blinking. “O-oh, uh...Nah, I think I'll be okay,”

“You do not look well,” Heavy leaned forward to get a better look at the Texan. “You are too pale, are you sick?”

“Really, fellas,” Engineer sucked in a breath, trying to crack a smile. “I'm okay, I--”

The car nearly swerved down a nearby hill, and when Dell managed to get safely back on the road Demo intervened.

“Lad, you ain't well,” Tavish observed, taking Dell's wrist. “Pull over and let me drive, all right?” Engineer hesitated, and then nodded, slowing the car down and stopping it. “Okay...that's probably a good idea,”

They switched places, with Engineer now in the passenger seat and with Demo driving. Heavy continued to watch Engie from the back, shifting forward to pat his shoulder. “We will be back at the base soon, and Doktor will look at you,”

Engineer blew out a breath, his hands kneading at the armrests. “Yeah...okay,” he gritted his teeth, doubling over a little.

“What is wrong?” Heavy asked finally, watching Engineer's pained expression. “What is hurting you?”

“It's...” Engineer's voice died in his throat, so he simply pointed to his abdomen.

Demo noticed this, and he grimaced, rounding a corner. “Ugh, probably appendicitis,” he glanced at the truck's clock, noting, “We'll be at the base in thirty minutes. Hang in there, lad,”

Dell's only response was a soft groan, his head falling back on the headrest and his eyes pressing shut. He knew it wasn't his appendix since he'd had his appendix removed years ago, and even if that was the case his pain felt more like menstrual cramps. In fact, that's what he thought it was: despite the fact that changes had been made to his hormones and chest years prior, his period still came and went although it had a tendency to be irregular. Unlike his usual cramps, though, these were unbearable, and they made him feel uncomfortably warm and itchy all over. He tugged at his collar, grunting while rocking back and forth in pain.

Demo looked over at him again, and then at the clock. “Lad, we're almost there. We can make a stop if ye want,”

“No, it's okay,” Engie tried to stay calm, but mentally he said 'screw it'. He didn't care if he wasn't alone, so he brought his hands to his abdomen and began massaging where he felt the pain. “Keep drivin', please,”

Demo nodded, focusing back on the road. “Okay, whatever ye say,”

This went on for several minutes, and despite the constant massages Dell just felt worse and worse. The cramps were becoming more intense, and there was less space in between each one. A particularly bad one flashed through his abdomen, and he yelped, gripping the armrests again. “Ah, Lord!” he exclaimed, sweat trickling down his forehead as he tried to even out his breathing.

Heavy reached out from the backseat to rub at Engineer's shoulder. “We will be back home soon,” he watched Engineer try to compose himself, noticing his posture and the sheer amount of sweat shining from his body. Something about this seemed very familiar to Misha, but he didn't know why...

“What does it feel like?” Demo asked, glancing at Engineer with a wince. “Can ye describe it?”

Engineer doubled over again, groaning out, “It's like...agh, it's like somethin' is tryin' to claw it's way out or ripping me apart-- oh!” he gasped, sitting up suddenly.

“What?” Heavy sat up again, watching in concern. His eyes went wide when he noticed a dark, damp stain in the denim of Dell's worn overalls, and the realization came crashing down.

“What the...?” Engineer panted, feeling the spot in confusion, before he let out a yell, gripping his stomach in agony. “Ah!”

Heavy wasn't quite sure how to process the situation at first-- he knew very well what was happening, as he'd witnessed his mother go through it years earlier, but in that case, she knew what she was doing and how to respond to it. Engineer clearly didn't know what was happening, or he did but he was too disoriented to deal with it properly. After a moment, Heavy gathered himself and looked at the clock.

They would be at the base in five minutes, but could Engineer hold on until then? He was hurting very badly, that was evident, but help was only five minutes away. For now, Heavy would have to coach him through it the best he could.

“Engineer,” Heavy got his attention, and he took the Texan's hand in his own and squeezed gently. “Breathe, yes? Try to relax, breathe deep, we will be there soon,”

Engineer nodded, but his brows pinched together with another cramp, and he hissed out in pain. “How soon!? I dunno how much longer I can handle this...”

At this point, Dell knew what was going on, and he could already feel some instinct deep inside himself telling him to push. He tried to ignore it to focus on breathing, but that urge to push was getting stronger and stronger.

Right as they finally pulled up to the base, Engineer could no longer stand it. With shaking hands, he undid his overall straps and shoved them down, trying to adjust himself the best he could.

“What are you doing!?” Demo exclaimed, his voice pitching a bit in shock.

Now that the truck was stopped, Heavy undid his seat belt and opened the door, shouting at Demo, “Get Doktor! Quickly!” before rounding the car to get to the passenger seat. Demo obeyed, leaping from the truck and sprinting to the base in a panic.

Heavy knelt down to get a better look at Engineer, keeping his hand on the smaller man's back. “Is okay,” Heavy comforted, trying to keep his voice quiet. “Body knows what to do, you will be all right,”

Engineer only nodded weakly with an 'uh-huh' before he kicked his overalls and boots off, another groan escaping his throat. This time, he obeyed with the strong urge he felt and pushed hard, his teeth gritting with the exertion. He cried out, and Heavy grabbed his hand to support him as he pushed a second time.

Medic came running out a moment later with a towel thrown over his shoulder as he quickly approached the car, calling, “Herr Engineer, I am coming! Do not worry!”

It was then, though, that Dell pushed a third time, and a loud gasp punched its way out of his throat. “Oh, my God!” his chest heaved, relief sweeping over him but a feeling of shock and panic setting in. He reached between his legs, his eyes wide in disbelief as he brought up a tiny, bluish baby for Medic to see.

Medic paused, assessing the situation mentally before diving in. “All right, all right,” he took the infant from the downright shocked Texan and wrapped it in the towel, rubbing it. “Here we are, now, let's breathe!”

Engineer laid against the seat, panting but already feeling much better. He watched the baby silently, fear forming in his chest. “Please breathe,” he murmured, barely audible, his heart racing.

The baby made a gurgling sound, before the little cry emerged from its throat, the small chest beginning to move naturally.

Medic still cleared the fluid from its airways anyway, cooing, “There we are! This is very unexpected, I had no idea you were coming! What a surprise,”

Engineer finally relaxed, smiling, a laugh making its way out of his throat. “Ha, yeah...you think you're surprised, imagine me!”

They all had a good laugh, and Medic bundled the baby up in the towel before handing her to Dell. “Here she is, I'll need to take a look at her once you're settled, all right?”

Engineer shifted his arms to hold the baby properly, peering into the towel to look at her. “Oh, my goodness,” he marveled, his voice softening as he touched the little cheek. He didn't even know what to say: she was gorgeous. She was small, but her skin was soft and while she didn't have much hair, the hair she did have twisted into sweet little curls on her head. She was perfect...and she'd taken Dell completely by surprise. All that pain he'd gone through felt so far away, now, and it had been replaced by a deep need to care for this little thing he'd just brought into the world.

Heavy patted his shoulder, smiling at him and the baby. “She is beautiful, Engineer,”

“Yeah,” was all Dell could reply with, his voice quiet. He leaned back, watching as Medic tied the cord off and stood up, removing his coat.

“Come, let's get you decent and inside,” Medic instructed, draping his coat over Engineer and taking his arm. He helped the smaller man up, leading him inside.

The other mercenaries had all gathered outside to watch from several feet away, although Scout was trying to get closer.

“Wait, what happened?” he took a step forward as if to run up to Engineer and Medic. “What does Engie have?”

Soldier held Scout back with a strong hand, but he also watched in interest. “It appears to be a sausage!” he confirmed after a moment. “A large one too! With legs!”

Scout wrinkled his nose. “Eww, what? No way!”

Pyro nudged Scout, getting his attention, and then pointed to Engineer before making the universal symbol of rocking a baby with their arms.

Scout's eyes got wide. “Holy shit, he had a kid!?”

“Gentlemen!” Spy's voice sounded oddly strained and more stressed than normal. “Leave him be-- the last thing he needs right is to be stared at by you Neanderthals!”

Everyone went silent, as it wasn't usual for Spy to scold others for being intrusive. Sniper spoke up a moment later, agreeing, “He's right. Come on, let's go back inside, and then we can visit with him later,”

Demo nodded. “Yeah, he was hurtin' pretty bad, he probably wants a break,”

With this, they trickled into the base one by one, until Spy was the only one left behind outside. Scout stopped in the doorway, turning around to look.

“Yo, Spy,” he called out. “You coming in?”

“Mm-hm,” Spy replied quietly, appearing to be lost in thought. He put out his cigarette before heading inside with the others.

Inside, Engineer got settled on a cot while Medic examined the baby. Dell watched, and he asked, “Is she okay, doc?”

“She's a little premature,” Medic replied, making sure she was warm in the towel. “You will need to feed her regularly and keep her warm since she needs to gain as much weight as possible,”

“I can do that,” Engineer sat up when Medic approached, and he held his arms out. “Lemme see my girlie,” a grin spread across his face when she was placed in his arms, and he kissed her forehead sweetly. “There's my angel! You feelin' better now, sweetheart?”

The baby yawned, squeaking a little as her hands curled into tiny fists. Dell relaxed back onto the pillow, sighing. “God, she's so beautiful...”

“What will you name her?” Medic wanted to know, removing his gloves and setting them beside the sink.

“I dunno,” Engineer admitted, stroking his baby's cheek. “I'll think of a name...I gotta get to know her first, you know?”

Medic nodded, understanding. “Of course! I understand completely,” he hung his coat up, heading for the door. “I will leave you two alone, then. Call if you need anything!”

“Yep!” Engineer smiled, and when the door closed he turned his attention back to his little girl, his hand brushing the wisps of hair on her head. “You got so much hair. I wonder if you'll have my ma's hair-- oh, gosh, she's gonna be so happy to hear about you! I'll have to call her, and she can visit so you can meet your granny! That'll be nice,”

The baby's eyes opened, blinking up at Dell, before they fell closed again. Dell felt tears prick at his eyes, and he held his daughter close, his chin coming to gently rest on her head. “I can't believe it...it's like I got a Christmas present in summer,” he rubbed her back, and she made a soft noise at him.

Engineer hardly noticed the door opening once more, but he did notice the smell of cigarette smoke faintly wafting near him, and he realized he wasn't alone.

He opened his eyes, sighing, “I know you're there, Spy...you don't gotta hide,”

Spy uncloaked, sitting on the edge of the cot. His eyes were fixed on the baby, and he said nothing for a long moment. Finally, he cleared his throat.

“Were you...going to tell me at some point?”

Engineer shook his head. “No. I didn't know, I couldn't have told you anyway,”

“I see,” Spy folded his hands over his lap, looking away. After a moment, he looked back. “And you'll be keeping the little one?”

“Of course,” Engineer's arms tightened around his daughter, feeling her shift in his arms. “I'd be a damn fool to give her to that shithole orphanage,”

Spy nodded understandingly. “Mm, yes, of course,” he sighed, focusing on the baby again. “Well...would you like me to be in her life? Because--”

“I do!” Engineer exclaimed, sitting up taller. “Look, I know what happened was a one-time thing, but she needs both her parents,” he looked back down at the baby, and then up at Spy again. “Even if we aren't together,”

Spy fell silent again before his eyes glanced at the floor. “They'll all know then, you know,”

“Is...that okay?” Engineer tilted his head, watching Spy’s face.

A pause. Spy nodded, and he shifted closer. “Perhaps it won't be so bad...she is beautiful,” he reached out, gently brushing the baby's little cheek. She squeaked, and Spy couldn't help but smile. “Salut, mon chéri. Comment allez vous?”

Engineer held his arms out so Spy could get a better look, and he moved closer. “You're gonna spoil her rotten,” he grinned when the infant shifted to look at up at Spy, but then his smile faded. “Oh, God...what about Scout? This is his--”

“Worry about that later, please,” Spy cleared his throat, making it clear he didn't want to bring his son into this just yet. “We have a daughter, let's celebrate her,” he pressed a little kiss to her forehead, humming softly. “Ma petite fleur. Sais-tu comme tu es belle?”

Engineer swallowed, but he felt himself smiling again as he tried to settle into the pillows once more. This wasn't what he imagined a moment like this being like, but he was grateful Spy wasn't going to disappear again.

#writing #my writing #hhhhhhh this is cute #im happy with it i guess???#if yall like this and want me to continue it i can #just let me know #mpreg #dysphoria tw #tagging just in case #tf2 #tf2 spy #tf2 engineer #tf2 napoleon complex #will i always be trash #the answer is yes #childbirth tw #pregnancy

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xiezuo · 6 years

Text

Reunion

Prompt : If it were only for you, you would have passed on that high school reunion. You didn’t feel like seeing how well your old acquaintances from your teenage years are doing, while your latest and only addition to your family is the cat you bought last week. But your friend insisted that it would be fun, so you went along with it, not thinking for a single moment about the possibility of reuniting with your (almost) ex-boyfriend from high school for the first time in 7 years.

Fandom & Member : Lee Dongmin | Cha Eunwoo — Astro

Warning(s) : Poorly written Smut, also keep in mind that English is not my first language so please excuse my rookie mistakes

Disclaimer : I am aware of Aroha’s stance on smut about Astro, but I am one of those people who feels like it’s time to stop babying the adult members all the time. If you don’t want to read it, that’s fine. Scroll past it, I respect your opinion on the matter. It’s bad anyway so I wouldn’t advise anyone to read it lmao

Word count : 3,404

“You have to come to this reunion,” she said. “It’ll be fun,” she said. You let out a heavy sigh. Really, it was your fault for listening to her; F/N was your best friend and you loved her, but you knew how she was. She loved to overhype things, something she shared with her boyfriend Bin whom she had met when you guys were in junior high.

High school… it was mostly a faded memory now. It wasn’t exactly an awful experience for you, but you wouldn’t describe it as great either. Nothing really ever happened in your life as a teenager, and aside from F/N and Bin, you didn’t have any close friends you kept contact with all these years. Or that you were particularly eager to meet again, at least none that really came to mind.

You decided to tag along anyway, even if you weren’t really excited about seeing how well everyone else was doing. Not that you weren’t doing great yourself, you had a job you loved and a decent apartment, but you were still single with no kids to brag about like all these other acquaintances from your high school years.

So while your social butterfly of a best friend went off to meet other people you couldn’t even bother to remember the name of, you stood alone at the makeshift bar they installed for the night to give rest to your swollen feet. That’s what you get for wearing heels, apparently. Bin seemed to take pity on you, seeing you alone like that, so while F/N was gushing over whatever happened between her and some random girl in the crowd, he approached you.

“You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself as much as F/N does,” he chuckled, looking over to his girlfriend.

“Big events like this were never really my thing,” you admitted, looking over to the crowd and taking a sip of your drink. “Plus I don’t know anyone well enough here aside from you and F/N. I’d feel awkward going up to people and start chatting when I’m sure they don’t even remember me.”

Bin frowned, pensive. “What about Dongmin ? It’s been a while but I thought you guys were at least close friends, weren’t you ?”

Lee Dongmin. Here’s a name you hadn’t heard in a while. You should’ve expected him here, though, as he had been your class president all the way through high school. Of course he was going to attend. You subconsciously went stiff in your seat.

“We lost contact after he moved away for college. We haven’t talked since.”

“You should go see him. I think I saw him near the entrance not too long ago.”

“I don’t know, Bin. Things were… awkward when we last saw each other.”

Awkward was the word. You and Dongmin almost dated in senior year, but you both felt like a long distance relationship wouldn’t really work out with him moving away so far. You both tried to at least keep in touch for a little while, but as you were both busy with your lives, you stopped talking to each other when college started. You never told anyone about what happened exactly, and it was better that way. To be frank, if Bin hadn’t talked about him, you would’ve never remembered it.

“Well, I want to talk to him,” he exclaimed as he grabbed your arm, pulling you up from your seat. You looked at him confused. “And there’s no way I’m leaving you here sulking by yourself. Come on.”

You tried to protest, but Bin wouldn’t have it and he dragged you along with him through the crowded gymnasium looking for Dongmin somewhere. It wasn’t really difficult to find him, however, as he was surrounded by a group of girls all at least a foot shorter than him. You didn’t get to get a proper glance at him, but you wondered for a moment if he was always this tall when you knew him.

Then you saw his face. Fuck.

Fuck, he was hot. Not that he wasn’t attractive before, but he was a different kind of attractive. The Dongmin you knew was adorable and charming, with soft features that made him look young and innocent. The Dongmin before you looked anything but innocent. The elegant navy blue suit he wore clung to his body like it was tailored just for him — he looked like a successful business man. A really, really attractive successful business man.

You shook your head. It’s been seven years. You guys didn’t even officially date, although you were once close to. He probably didn’t even remember you. He probably had a wife or at least a girlfriend by now. But why was your heart beating so fast ? It was like seeing him in this instant rekindled the crush you once had on him. You felt quite ridiculous, to be honest with yourself.

“Ōi, Dongmin !” Bin called. “Long time no see, man ! You’re so handsome now !”

Dongmin looked up from the group of girls he was talking to to try and see who called him. When he noticed Bin, who was waving at him like an idiot, a smile crept onto his lips and he excused himself to the group of girls before stepping forward towards you and your friend. But he went straight to Bin to hug him as if he never noticed you were there. You couldn’t lie that you felt slightly hurt by that.

“Binnie ! It’s so good to see you ! You look amazing as well, wow.” Dongmin broke off the embrace. “So, what are you—?” And that’s when he noticed you. He stopped mid-sentence and blinked a few times, as if he was trying to figure out if this was a dream or not. “Y/N ? Is that you ?” His voice came out as a whisper, but you managed to catch it over the loud noise surrounding you.

“Well, I guess it’s time for me to leave,” Bin announced, suddenly feeling out of place, but you and Dongmin both ignored him. It was as if time itself had stopped and nothing else didn’t even exist. Your heart was beating so hard it felt as if it could rip out of your chest in an instant.

Hesitantly, Dongmin reached forward and took you into his arms, wrapping them tightly around your back. It took you a few seconds to recover from shock but you eventually hugged him back, and god, it somehow felt so… right. No, no, no, no, time to come back to reality. You couldn’t possibly still be in love with him after seven years. It sounded crazy. It was crazy. But it was also how you felt in this moment.

“Look at you, you’re stunning,” he gasped, stepping away from the hug but still keeping his hands on your upper arms.

“Back at you,” you giggled, trying to shake away the feeling of awkwardness that was threatening to settle between you once you both pulled away. “I— to be frank, I didn’t expect to see you here, but I guess I should’ve because we were in the same year and you were class president but—“

He smiled fondly at you and chuckled at your ramblings. “I’m glad to see you.” Fuck. He was gorgeous. You remembered him to be one of the prettiest people you had ever seen before, but it seems as though he had a glow up from a glow up and for a second you wondered if he was even real. But his light grip on your arm definitely was real. “Listen, I know we left on… awkward terms, but I’m happy I was able to meet you here. You were someone who was once dear to my heart and— I know this sounds crazy because we’re practically strangers now but I feel like we should catch up on all those years we haven’t seen each other.”

You blinked, trying to process the words he was saying. “Yeah ! Yeah, I feel so too, actually.” God, this was really awkward. It felt so surreal you wondered for a second if you were dreaming.

“What do you say we leave this place and walk around the school for a little ? Unless you want to stay here and want to scream out what you’ve been up to for the last seven years,” he joked and offered you his arm, which you took gladly.

You both left the packed gymnasium, your ears ringing from the loud music playing and the sound of people screaming over each other to be able to hear anything. It felt like a breath of fresh air to get out of that place.

“You still don’t like public events that much, I see,” Dongmin remarked. “That’s another thing that hasn’t changed.”

“Another ? What’s the other thing ?”

Dongmin grinned. “Tell me about yourself first. Then I can tell you.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, amused by his playful behaviour. You were glad to see that he hadn’t changed that much since high school, and you were glad. It almost felt as if you never stopped talking all this time.

“Well, I landed a job as a songwriter for this entertainment company called Fantagio, and I love it,” you started, not really knowing where to begin.

“Oh yeah ! I remember you writing lyrics in class instead of paying attention. You never let me read any of them, though.”

Because most of them were about you, you thought, but you couldn’t tell him that. Not after all this time.

“I was insecure about them,” you replied. It technically wasn’t a lie. “But I love my job. I’ve never been really good at singing so I guess that’s my way of connecting with music. What about you ?”

Dongmin hummed. “I graduated from law school 2 years ago. I secured a job at a law firm back in town about six months ago, so I just moved back here. I like it. But I’m planning on becoming a judge someday.”

Still as ambitious as ever, you thought. It was a characteristic you always admired about him, now that you think about it. It’s funny how all those memories you thought you had forgotten suddenly came back to mind just by talking to him.

You stopped walking when you reached the staircase leading to the second floor. Dongmin looked at you and you nodded, following him upstairs. Despite the hallways being dark, so many memories rushed back into mind of your time in this school and despite your time here being really average you couldn’t help but feel nostalgic about all of it.

“What about your love life ?” Dongmin suddenly asked.

“Not much is happening on that field,” you joked. “I’ve been single for the past year or so. You ?”

“To be honest, I haven’t had time,” Dongmin laughed. “I guess I wanted to wait until my life was stable enough.”

“That’s understandable.”

Dongmin stayed silent for a little bit. He took in his surroundings, probably remembering all sorts of things just like you did. Then, the name tag on one of the classroom doors seemed to catch his attention. “Mr Koh’s chemistry class,” he smiled. “I remember all the crazy experiments he showed us to make us think science was cool.”

“I mostly remember his horrible dad jokes and the card tricks he liked to perform at the end of class.”

Dongmin turned the handle, expecting it to be locked, but to yours and his surprise, the door was unlocked. You knew Mr Koh kept all of the hazardous components in a separate room at the back, but you couldn’t help but think it was unusual and also quite irresponsible to leave the door to a science lab unlocked. Dongmin looked at your over his shoulder, waiting for your approval. You weren’t sure about this, but you nodded anyway, and you both entered the room.

Nothing much seemed to have changed since you last came here. You didn’t bother to turn on the lights, afraid someone might catch you because of it, but it was bright enough so you could at least see where you were going. You sat on one of the student desks at the front while Dongmin went straight to the board. He cleared his throat and inhaled sharply, as if he were getting into a role.

“For today’s class, kids, I’ll show you a magic trick called : I know you’re not paying attention to me Ms Y/L/N, this is chemistry not poetry class,” he said in a low voice, trying to imitate Mr Koh. You laughed at how terrible his imitation was. “So you think this is funny, huh ? I’m afraid you’ll have to see me after class. This isn’t like you, Ms Y/L/N.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll do better next time,” you tried to apologize, but your laughter made you break character almost immediately. You went back down on your feet and Dongmin walked up to you, clearly struggling to keep in character as well. He stood in front of you, putting one hand on the table behind you on each side of your hips to try and look threatening, but the proximity of his body to yours only made your heart skip a beat and your breath hitched. You were glad for the darkness because you could definitely feel yourself blushing.

Dongmin’s gaze locked into yours for a moment, as if he were trying to read your thoughts. Without moving away, he lost it and started laughing lightly, unable to take his role seriously. You laughed along with him, forgetting how close your bodies were until the laughter died back down and Dongmin went back to trying to read into your soul.

“I guess I can tell you what the other thing was,” he whispered. You could feel his breath on your skin. “My heart still skips a beat whenever I see you smile.” He didn’t even let you some time to process his words before his lips were on yours, pressed firmly against them but unmoving, before he drew back. You looked him in the eye. You could see a tint of worry peering through the lustful glow in his dark pupils, as if he was scared he had done something wrong. But all of his worries disappeared when you wrapped your arms around his neck and reconnected your lips together in a more passionate kiss.

He pressed his body against yours, the edge of the table digging into your lower back, and intensified the kiss. He slid his tongue past your lips without a problem and the kiss became sloppy and urgent as you both found yourselves wanting more.

His right hand found the zipper behind your dress and slowly started unzipping it, waiting for any sign of you wanting to stop it from going any further. But you pressed your body even closer to him and he took it as a green light to keep going. You started fumbling with his tie to try and loosen it a bit when he ground his hips into yours, making you gasp in surprise.

“I want you,” he breathed against your swollen lips, a string of saliva still connecting them after he broke the kiss.

“Aren’t you supposed to make a speech soon ? You know, as class president and all,” you panted.

“We still have time if we make it quick.”

“Take me, then,” you responded before kissing him hungrily again.

He groaned and lifted you up to make you sit back on the table, settling between your legs and sliding the dress down your arms. Everything felt rushed, but you didn’t mind at all. You wanted him just as bad as he wanted you. You got him rid of his suit jacket, letting it fall on the floor without a care in the world about how expensive it might have been, and your hands went straight to his belt buckle to untuck his shirt. It was pointless to completely undress each other, so you just opted for unbuttoning his white dress shirt as he sucked a hickey on your collarbone. You threw your head back in pleasure, letting out a small whimper as he bit down on the sensitive skin.

You let your hands trail up and down his defined abs, marvelled at how perfect his body was as he unclasped your bra. Your breath got caught in your throat at the sudden contact with the cold ambient air, but Dongmin didn’t waste any time before he took one of your nipples in his mouth while playing with the other one with his hand. Your left hand reached up to tangle with his raven hair and you gave it a slight tug. You already felt your panties soaking. “Dongmin, please,” you begged.

It wasn’t like him to rush things like that, but he understood the current situation required him to. He slid his hands up your thigh, lifting your dress up in the process, and got rid of your panties in one swift motion. Through clouded eyes, you could’ve sworn you saw him stuff them into his back pocket before he brought his fingers back to your aching core. He slid two of them in slowly, gently scissoring them inside to stretch you out, and you let your head fall forward onto his broad shoulder. The small moans you kept making made him grow more and more impatient, his untouched erection straining almost painfully against the tightness of his dress pants.

“Stop teasing,” you demanded, feeling as eager as him to have him inside of you. He got the message and withdrew his fingers, his lust-clouded mind making it hard for him to concentrate on unbuckling his belt, but he eventually succeeded. His erection sprung free and he gave it a few strokes before lining it up with your entrance.

“Are you sure ?”

“Yes !”

He gently pecked your cheek before pushing himself all the way in slowly, the sting of the stretch a bit painful but oh so amazing at the same time. You hooked your legs around his waist, urging him to just start moving already, which he did. And he wasn’t being really gentle either, but you loved it. You weren’t really worried about people catching you so you let loose and started moaning his name. His relentless pace and strength had you rolling your eyes back, the pleasure soon becoming almost unbearable.

Dongmin crashed his lips against yours once again and lifted your hips up a little bit to adjust the angle, now able to hit your sweet spot, which had you moan into the kiss and hold on to his shoulders for support.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m close, don’t stop !” you cried out, digging your nails into his back.

His thrusts got even more relentless as he was nearing his edge too, and you came undone under him after about a minute. “Can I cum inside ?” he asked softly and you could only nod, not trusting your voice in that moment. His hips stilled and he came in short bursts, his cock twitching inside of you.

He stayed there, holding you tightly in his arms until you came down from your high. Only then did he pull out and tucked himself back into his boxers and pants before grabbing a tissue from the teacher’s desk to clean up the cum dripping down from in between your legs.

You both got dressed again in silence, but it wasn’t awkward like you thought it would be. He even helped you zip your dress back on, although his hands lingered on your skin a little bit too long for it to have been just a friendly gesture.

“Where did you put my panties ?” you asked.

Dongmin grinned and pulled them out of his back pocket, but he raised them up above his head and out of your reach when you tried to grab them. You huffed, unamused.

“Dongmin. Give them back.”

“How about I keep them so you have an excuse to come to my place after this ?” He raised an eyebrow, still smiling.

You would be a liar if you said you didn’t like the idea. “Why would I do that ?”

“So I can fuck you properly this time around.”

1K notes · View notes

butindeed · 6 years

Text

What if... [TRR X PM Cross over] (Riley x Drake) (Kai x Hana) [PART 8/?]

Hi guys!! This is part of a nameless Riley x Drake series. You can read the previous parts HERE.

Tags: @lazychic28 @boneandfur @drakelover78 @captainkingliam

@andy-loves-corgis @client327 @walkerismychoice @chantelle-x0x

Summary: What if things were different? (Part 8)

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Tame Impala - The less I know the better

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Kai woke up with a terrible headache, as she did the previous day before, and the previous one, and the previous one and basically the whole week.

Riley had been nagging her about her barely attending to class so she decided it was time to move on from Hana being with someone else.

The last few days had been particularly difficult having to face Hana and her confessing everything to Kai. Maybe even more than she would have wanted to know.

It turned out that blondie was Hana’s ex, a freaking Diana Argon looking woman that had broken her heart some time ago when she decided to marry a well connected man.

Hana had told Kai she’d struggled getting over her, especially since M, as Hana called her, had never stopped texting her. When Kai and Hana got together, Hana stopped answering, and that was when M dropped by.

Hana appologized several times, asking Kai to help her getting over M, Kai was too hurt to even listen to Hana’s excuses.

So even though she had confronted Hana unsuccessfully seeking for relief, she did found some at the bottom of a bottle some days and crying herself to sleep some others.

The sunlight was making her headache even worse walking her way through campus. Class today had been a nightmare, she was ready to head home alright. Kai closed her eyes for a second and felt her body bump someone else’s.

She opened her eyes, ready to blurt out some remark when she saw the last person she thought she’d see.

-Hey Kai!

-Oh hi!

-How have you been feeling?

- jdkfjbnvf-she shrugged

-Heh, I feel ya!

Kai nodded starting to walk away when a light bulb stroke her brain.

-Wait - she turned

-Huh?

-Would you like to come home tonight?

-You sure?

-Yes! It’ll be fun! We can have some snacks and something to drink. We can even karaoke!

-I don’t karaoke

-Please? I need it! I’ll invite more people so it’s not akward!

-What time?

-Right now! Come with me!

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Daft Punk - Around The World

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Riley was feeling a bit down lately. Drake had texted her sometimes, but they hadn’t seen eachother since the Kai debacle. So she did what she used to do when she was feeling blue: she tied her hair into two buns, she put on her old ragged Star Wars tee, her ironman undies and her headphones. She turned up the volume and danced it out.

It was so therapeutical to dance to the upbeatmusic that she usually forgot not only about her problems but about the whole world as well.

So concentrated was she on the music and her butt shaking, that she didn’t listen to the door being open and the two people entering the apartment.

At one point, when she was doing some questionable dancing moves she thought were extremely hot, she turned around opening her eyes.

In fron of her were now a bended over in laughter Kai and, to her horror, a very amused Drake.

Terrified, she looked at them and then at her very naked legs. Running towards the couch, she grabbed a blancket and covered herself ET style, landing on the floor; on her ass.

She took off the headphones expectantly looking for an answer, but too ashamed to say anything.

- So, Leia... - Drake smirked making her blush violently.

Why was Kai so determined to embarrass her in front of Drake?

-I invited Drake for some karaoke night!

-You what? - Riley managed to splutter

-If you don’t want me here Mr Stark, I can leave... - Drake stated overdramatically, making Kai laugh again.

-C’mon! It’ll be fun! - Kai begged making puppy eyes - Please?

Riley fumed towards her room without saying anything.

She was rambling through her wardrobe trying to find anything to wear when she heard a knock on her door.

-Who is it?

-It’s Drake

Riley put on the very first thing she found and opened the door.

-So... I was kind of serious about leaving if you want me to - Drake rambled looking at her feet

-No, I mean, it’s nice to have you here. I... I would have liked a heads up but...

Drake flashed a smile, a genuine smile. And the most beautiful smile Riley had seen in a long time.

-By the way - he looked up - I like those jeans, they realy make you justice.

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Some time after the living room was full of people. Penelope, Sloane and some of Kai’s college class mates were mingling, sipping wine and beer and listening to music.

Riley didn’t know much of those people, and as Drake was talking to one of their mutual classmates, a guy named Neville, and Kai was a bit busy with a boy Riley didn’t know, she decided to go and talk to Penelope who was standing by herself in a corner.

That’s how she learnt she was from Cordonia too, from Portravira, a small coastal city. She also had two pooddles whom she missed terribly and a boyfriend back home named Zeke.

-He and his family are so nice! His sister Kiara and I are very fond of eachother.

-Kiara? Drake’s sister’s friend Kiara?

-Oh yes! Do you happen to know her?

-Well, I kind of saw her once...

-Oh! She’s so nice! She likes Drake, you know? But poor thing, he doesn’t feel quite the same for her - she shook her head sadly - They’d make a lovely couple. Don’t you think?

But Riley wasn’t exactly thinking about Drake and Kiara being together as she oagled at him from the distance.

He looked so handsome with that white polo shirt and those dark blue skinny jeans that make his butt pop.

-Well, anyway - Penelope continued - design was the only thing I needed to learn, and as Cordonia University doesn’t teach it, I had to come here!

Riley was well aware that she had lost a good portion of the conversation, but luckily for her, Sloane joined them at the same time that a tipsy Kai announced that the karaoke was about to begin.

Kai opened the night by singing a dubious version of ‘Let’s get loud’

As many of the attendees were reluctant to participate, Kai came up with a system in which all the names were written down and put in a paper bag, so they could pick a name and the lucky winner would have to sing along the karaoke track.

After a various repertoir, incluiding a hillarious version of ‘I want it that way’ and a very off key ‘I will always love you’, most of the guests were drunk enough to call it a night.

At one point, when the songs had became more and more babbled, Kai dragged Riley’s name out. Luckily she was drunk enough to accept singing, so she stood up and staggered her way to the screen and mic.

She typed the song’s name and waited for the music to start. Although she was feeling a bit selfaware, she started singing.

In the beginning God created Heaven and Earth For what it's worth, I think that he might've created you first Just my opinion Your body is the one paradise that I wanna fly to Every day and every night I've been sick and tired of running Chasing all of the flashing lights These late nights don't mean nothing

She look at Drake as she sang, not knowing if he’d get the hint. He just sat there, nursing his whiskey, staring at her pokerfaced.

I need your love And I'm dying for the rush 'Cause my heart ain't got enough I need your touch This is getting serious

Drake took the glass to his lips, once and over again.

When Riley finished the song, he got up and went for a refill.

She was struggling whether to follow him or not when she felt someone tapping on her shoulder.

-Wow! I never heard someone sing so beautifully - Neville praised

-Oh! Thanks

They engaged in a trivial conversation for a while and she forgot a bit about where she was about to go.

After a while Neville excused himself, and left the party.

Only 5 people were remaining when Kai took Drake’s name out of the papaer bag.

Drake’s cheeks were reddened. It was hard to tell if he was blushing of drunk.

He strode to the keyboard and waited for the song to start without lifting his eyes from his feet.

Have you got color in your cheeks' Do you ever get the feeling that you can't shift the tide That sticks around like something's in your teeth

Oh, good! Riley thought. I love this song!

Drake sang with a deep gorgeous voice, totally on key.

Riley felt like the world blurred around them. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was something else, but suddenly Drake gazed at her, as if he felt they were the only two people in the room too.

I dreamt about you near me every night this week How many secrets can you keep' 'Cause there's this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow When I play it on repeat Until I fall asleep Spilling drinks on my setteeIf this feeling flows both ways (Sad to see you go) Was sorta hoping that you'd stay (Baby we both know) That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can't say tomorrow day Crawlin' back to you.

Ever thought of calling when you've had a few? 'Cause I always do Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new Now I've thought it through Crawling back to you

Riley could feel something warming up on her. His voice, his stare. Was she imagining things? Was he really singing that for her?

So have you got the guts? Been wondering if your heart's still open and if so I wanna know what time it shuts Simmer down and pucker up I'm sorry to interrupt it's just I'm constantly on the cusp of trying to kiss you I don't know if you feel the same as I do But we could be together, if you wanted to

Was she just imagining things? Was she reading between lines too much? Why was she standing up? When did it happen?

They were looking at eachother’s eyes. His stare was burning, piercing her like a lynx, making her entire body tingle.

When he finished the song, he glupped the rest of his drink.

Was it it? Would he be coming to her now?

Just then Penelope tapped her forearm.

-Riley, dear. I have to take off now

Riley saw from the corner of her eye Drake’s face grimmace.

-Oh! Okay

-I wanted to thank you for the invitation. I had a great time!

-Well, I’m...

-Drake! Are you leaving too?

Drake, who was standing right behind them, as waiting for their conversation to be over, gasped in surprise.

He looked at Riley, at Penelope and then at his very empty glass.

-Sure - he mumbled leaving with Penelope and the rest of the guests and leaving a very dissappointed Riley at the doorstep.

#trr #trr x pm #pm #riley hopkins #Kai Parks #drake walker #penelope #neville #kiara #hana lee #perfect match fanfic #trr fanfic #trr fanfiction

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christinegrrl · 6 years

Text

#AGilmoreChristmas Day 17

Title: There’s No Place Like Home for the Holidays

Word Count: ~2200

Characters: Jess Mariano, Luke Danes

Prompt: “Jess’ first real Christmas, I just imagine he never really had one growing up?”

Author’s Note: Thank you so much to @alspancakeworld for running this again and for having me back! Make sure you check out all the other wonderful works here!

Disclaimer: I really wanted this to be longer and better, but life kinda got in the way, so I apologize for it not being my best work. Also, this is a little bit on the sappy side and may not be 100% realistic, but what is Christmas for if not to be sappy?

There was a tree, with lights and ornaments and even a star. A star that he’d put on. Jesus, he was growing soft.

He could claim that Luke insisted, that he had no other choice to decorating the tree unless he wanted to hear Luke ranting about ‘family time’ and ‘making new traditions’ and all that crap. He could say that he didn’t care that he finally got a tree, after years of begging followed by years of silently pining for something even resembling a Christmas decoration. He could say he wasn’t excited for tomorrow morning when Luke would make pancakes and he would get to open the present his uncle probably felt obligated to get him and he would finally have a half-decent Christmas if he managed not to completely screw it up.

The truth was this: Jess Mariano had never had a real Christmas, so he was actually excited when his uncle dragged in a rugged tree and insisted they throw tinsel and crap on it, even though he knew the man probably would have prefered to ship him back to Liz’s during the break for even two weeks of peace. Hell, Jess had prepared himself to be told he was better off in New York, Luke had done his best but he was a hopeless case. Even with Luke’s flimsy lie about Liz calling and saying that Jess should experience Stars Hollow at Christmastime, he had never expected the tree or the badly hidden presents with his name on them or that he’d be sitting here, on December 24, watching It’s A Wonderful Life with Luke and thoroughly enjoying himself.

Of course, he had complained the whole time, protesting against Luke’s childish ornaments and proposal that they bake Christmas cookies like he had with his mom as a kid and choice in movies (who the hell wants to watch a movie about a depressed guy trying to kill himself on Christmas Eve?)

(He didn’t want to think about that Christmas when he was nine that he spent in the waiting room of a hospital…)

Luke had just rolled his eyes and explained to him that this was the first time in a long while he was able to spend Christmas with family so he was going to enjoy it. (He tried not to think about what would happen when Luke inevitably stopped putting up with his crap and negativity and shipped him off.)

“So… that was a good movie, I guess? Kind of depressing, for a Christmas movie.”

Jess softly snorted. Was Luke so out of touch with the rest of the world that he hadn’t seen a fifty-year-old movie? He focused his attention on the book in front of him and the page he had been rereading for the past fifteen minutes - the ending of the movie was worth rewatching, okay?

Luke clapped his hands nervously. “Okay. So. It’s getting late, so you should probably head off to bed.”

“Wouldn’t want to give Santa a reason to put double the amount of coal in my stocking this year, now would we?” For all he knew, the poorly wrapped presents he found in the closet were for someone else - he wanted Luke to know he wasn’t expecting anything under the tree tomorrow. His uncle had already done enough by letting him stay here despite how insufferable he had been; Jess didn’t want him to feel obligated.

“Well maybe if you go to sleep Santa will forgive your sins and leave you something under the tree.

“Didn’t know Christmas came with a confessional.” When they had established this comfortable, almost domestic rapport between them Jess had no idea. He wasn’t complaining, though. It was nice to feel safe enough that he didn’t have to blast music every night to fall asleep. Enjoy it while it lasts.

He shook the thought from his mind and moved past Luke to settle on the air mattress. Anyway, he needed Luke to fall asleep so that he could sneak downstairs and fix the newly broken coffee machine - his gift to Luke considering he only had two days notice that they were actually exchanging gifts and little change given the stack of books he had left outside a certain bookish brunette’s window.

“Hey Jess, I meant to ask you: is there anything specific you want to do tomorrow? A dish you normally eat, or a movie you usually watch, or anything like that? I don’t want you to give up your usual Christmas traditions for all the ones I’m making you do.”

Sometimes Jess couldn’t believe how little Luke knew. A part of him was bitter because his uncle knew what a flake Liz could be and yet he still wasn’t there for him when he was younger, but he recognized that Luke had his own life and had he known how bad it had been, he would have intervened a long time ago.

As for traditions, there were plenty of those, though none he particularly felt like repeating. There was the one from five to ten years old where Liz would promise him a gift - and looking back, he believed she fully intended to follow through had she actually been sober or sane enough to remember - and he would wake up on Christmas morning to nothing but her admonishing him for crying and being a spoiled little brat. There was the one where he would steal himself a book each year, the first one being a beautifully illustrated edition of ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas, but he didn’t think Luke would be willing to bring that one back. There was the one where he would hum Christmas music to himself before he fell asleep, trying to think of warm fires and sleigh rides and snowmen and anything else besides what he could hear going on in the next room with his mother and her latest boyfriend.

Luke didn’t know about any of those. For a moment, Jess contemplated telling him, maybe the time he realized Santa wasn’t real or the time he really did get coal from one of Liz’s hysterical boyfriends or even the Christmas spent in the hospital. But his uncle didn’t need that guilt on his shoulders, not when he was doing his best now.

“Well, you already ruled out the coal, so I guess all my traditions are off the table.” The joke fell flat as Luke’s face fell in understanding. Not trying to ruin the decent mood they were both in, Jess continued: “Really, Luke, whatever you want to do is fine. I already appreciate having two days in a row off from working in the diner, so I don’t need anything else. You don’t have to do anything special for me. We can just have a normal day.”

Luke’s sad face didn’t dissipate. “It’s Christmas, Jess. You deserve special.” With that, he walked into the bathroom, leaving Jess with a stinging sensation in his eyes that he didn’t want to think about.

He pretended to be asleep when Luke came back out, pretended not to feel Luke rubbing his shoulder in comfort, pretended not to hear Luke’s “Goodnight, Jess. Merry Christmas”, pretended not to acknowledge the realization that he actually liked it here in the cramped apartment with the overbearing uncle in a small, crazy town.

After Luke’s snoring had continued for a good ten minutes, Jess crept downstairs to the empty diner and set to work fixing the coffee machine. “God, this thing is like thirty years old,” he muttered. “No wonder everything in this place is always breaking.” He enjoyed the peace that night came with, liked that he could let his guard down and think out loud.

He thought back to Liz. Even though he resented her for sending him to his own personal circle of hell, she always got really bad this time of year, and he had taken it upon himself in recent years to keep her safe. Against his better judgment, he picked up the phone and dialed her last-known telephone number, instantly regretting his decision when an obviously drunk man picked up, evidence of a party in the background.

“What?” the man snapped. You really picked a keeper this time, Liz.

Jess sighed. “Is Liz there?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Just tell her it’s Jess.”

The man grumbled, but after a few minutes of listening to the infinitely fascinating background conversations of the party (“Man, I’m telling you, Christmas is made up so all those religious nuts can justify spending a shit-ton of money on their kids. It’s all a government conspiracy”) Liz came to the phone.

“Jess? Is that you?” she slurred.

“Liz,” he replied curtly.

“Aw, hi baby, how’re ya doin’? I bet you’re real good. See, I told you that you’d be better in Stars Hollow with your uncle. I jus’ needed a little space is all.”

Jess tried to ignore the pang in his heart at the words. This was a terrible idea. “Right. Well. I just wanted to tell you Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, baby, I lo-” She was interrupted by raucous cheering in the background, and then all he heard was the dial tone.

Slamming the phone onto its cradle, he tried to calm his erratic breathing. He thought he had gotten over his mother’s indifference to his feelings, but apparently months of not having to interact with her had weakened his ability to ignore her flippant remarks.

His time in Stars Hollow had made him comfortable - too comfortable - with his surroundings, so he barely registered the footsteps on the stairs, only realizing Luke had probably heard him and was coming downstairs to accuse him of stealing Christmas or some shit like that moments before he appeared from behind the curtain.

“Jess? What are you doing down here? It’s the middle of the night. Are you okay? Did something happen?” His concern was evident as he looked the boy up and down to ensure he wasn’t physically hurt.

Here was a man who had taken him in when he had been a pain in the ass, who had tried to give him a real Christmas, who had bought him presents for Christ’s sake, who was genuinely worried when his nephew wasn’t in his bed in the middle of the night. Jess could have cried.

He didn’t; he still was reluctant to show weakness, knowing that weakness always left you vulnerable and people would take advantage of those vulnerabilities. But he didn’t lie, or respond with scathing sarcasm, or comment on Luke being down in the diner without his baseball cap on, surely the first time that’s ever happened. He was just tired. So he told as much of the truth as he could.

He looked his uncle straight in the eye. “I was fixing the coffee machine.” No snark. No concealment. He even would have spilled about calling Liz were it not one in the morning; he really didn’t feel like dealing with the hundreds of questions Luke would have.

Luke looked around, taking in the toolbox on the counter and the red light blinking on the machine and the boy who looked so young in this moment, no pretenses or facades, just a kid. “Okay. Why?” He tried to keep all hints of accusation out of his tone, hoping his nephew would finally open up to him about something.

He looked down at his feet. “I didn’t buy you a Christmas present. I thought maybe this could be it. I know it’s not a lot but…”

He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see Luke with shiny eyes and a small smile on his face. “It’s great, kid. Thanks. But you didn’t have to get me anything.”

Jess shrugged. “You didn’t either. But you did.” At Luke’s confused glance, he continued: “I found the wrapped presents in the closet a couple days ago. I didn’t open them or anything, but I saw the gift tags. Thanks.” Thanks for putting up with me and trying to give me a good Christmas memory to look back on.

His uncle seemed to know what he meant by the loaded thanks. “You’re welcome. Now, back to bed, or else you really will get coal in your stocking tomorrow.”

Jess smiled as he climbed the stairs. So this is what family does for Christmas. Not half bad.

The next morning would bring delicious-smelling pancakes and hot chocolate and opening up a stack of books (“Rory helped me pick them”) and credit for Andrew’s bookstore and a new green jacket (“I noticed your yellow one was getting worn out and it gets really cold up here, you won’t survive without a good coat” “It gets just as cold here as it does in New York, Uncle Luke”). But Jess was perfectly content, in this moment, staring at the ceiling and hearing Luke’s soft snores way too early on Christmas Day. I guess this is what home feels like. Huh.

#agilmorechristmas #Jess Mariano #Luke Danes #Gilmore girls #Gilmore girls fanfic #my writing #this kinda sucks sorry

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unadulterated-sandwich-bitch · 4 years

Text

The Bad Writer’s Club

Sometimes I feel like I just exist. Like I’m just taking up air. But it’s not good when you do nothing but breathe because you’re breathing in all the cruel things of the world, too, and you’re not doing anything about it. . . .

“Shit.” Amelia knew that the only remaining pen in her bag was of both dollar-store-price and dollar-store-quality, but she hadn’t expected it to run out of ink as she was composing the most pivotal scene in her story. She let her eyes wander nonchalantly around the room. Everyone seemed entirely focused, bent over their notebooks and laptops with purpose. She recognized no one, and that thought alone had nearly deterred her from coming there altogether. Amelia sighed. There were always too many reasons not to do something.

With no one to borrow a writing utensil from, it seemed there was no point in staying. Amelia gathered her things and quietly left the room, making sure the door didn’t slam on her way out. She would hang around the hallways for a while and walk outside at 3:00 with everyone else so no one would know she had left early. God knew she didn’t need her mother’s judgement.

Amelia passed the auditorium, which was packed with the cast of the spring play. The director shouted angrily for quiet, but the din of a thousand conversations still filled the room and quieted slowly over the next few minutes. Then Amelia heard a girl’s voice, soft and sweet and melancholic, followed by a boy’s. But his was wrought with so much emotion it stank of ingenuity, and its volume overshadowed that of his scene partner. But she did not fight back with louder words; if anything, she got quieter. It was a challenge not to laugh at the boy’s melodramatic delivery of lines he evidently could not remember. Amelia found that most things were felt moderately, and should be depicted as such.

Amelia stood by the double doors for a moment, which were held slightly ajar by a wooden door stopper to let the occasional breeze into the desperately hot auditorium. Some of her friends did theater; she could have snuck in and become part of the whispered, forbidden dialogues among castmates who were not on stage. She was almost positive that no one would have noticed. But she didn’t. Amelia carried her backpack to a remote corner of the library, opened her algebra book, and studied silently for the next thirty minutes.

Amelia didn’t hate the rain, even when it poured as violently as it did on that quiet day in March. It soothed her; she would walk out into the rain even if she didn’t have to. It was a funny thing, this moisture in the sky that reminded her so aggressively that she was alive.

But then, her friends would gesture for her to come back under the safety of the school roof, leaky as it was; or her mother would call out that she wouldn’t be allowed back in the house if she got any more wet. She’d have to wait on the porch until she was dry. These were Amelia’s thoughts as her mother pulled up in her battered minivan, practically kissing the curb.

Amelia unclenched her fist as the car came to a halt. It wasn’t her mom’s fault that her driving wasn’t perfect; her vision wasn’t exactly phenomenal either. It must’ve been all those years going without glasses as a child; Amelia often found herself being pulled aside in the kitchen to read a newspaper or an email from a coworker.

Amelia opened the car door as quickly as she could and didn’t say anything until she was settled in her seat. “How was your day?” Eileen asked quietly, not quite making eye contact before she took off from the parking lot. Amelia always felt as though she was mad at her for something. She knew that her mom was not really asking how her day was; she was asking for permission to speak about hers. “It was okay. Got a 97 on that Spanish test I took last week. You?”

Amelia was a master at turning discussions around like this, Eileen thought. She could manipulate her way out of any question without really trying, without attracting the suspicious attention of anyone. But Eileen pretended not to notice. She had plenty of things she had been dying to talk about anyway. “Not bad at all. I met the cutest kid today. Poor thing had the flu. But I’m afraid I can’t say the same for Erika. You remember Erika, don’t you? I think you met her at the Christmas party last year. Anyway, word on the street is she’s getting fired.”

Amelia glanced at her mother. Usually she had to pretend to be interested in what she was saying, but this time she didn’t have to. She recalled meeting Erika at the Christmas benefit. She had liked her - she didn’t ask the same stupid questions that everyone asked kids at an event like that. Amelia would feel sorry for her if she ended up losing her job. “Really? Why?” Amelia wondered aloud without turning away from the window.

“Well, she’s young, and she hasn’t worked there long. Plus she’s taken a lot of sick days. So at the first sign of financial stress, she’s gone.” The rest of the ride home continued that way, even as the exchange drifted beyond Erika. Amelia would’ve rather taken the bus or walked home, even if it meant she would get there forty-five minutes later. That way, at least she could listen to music, or text her friends. Truth be told, she would have done almost anything to evade this pattern of painful, one-sided conversation.

When they got to their lonely high-ranch at the top of the hill, Amelia got out of the van first. She watched as her mother stepped out, nearly forgetting her purse. She was wearing some necklace with a silver disk, one Amelia hadn’t seen before, and her hazel eyes seemed darker against the backdrop of the cloudy sky. Eileen noticed Amelia watching her and smiled.

Amelia’s mother stood proudly at five-foot-seven but looked small among her daughters. Her name was Eileen, though she had not a drop of Irish blood in her body. She spent most of her time complaining; often about her brother, Michael, with whom she did not get along. They argued frequently on the subject of the care of their mother, Carlina, who was eighty years old and had suffered multiple recurrences of cervical cancer. If her rants were not about Michael, they were about her work as a pediatric nurse in St. John’s Hospital in Newark.

Eileen was forty-four years old but told people otherwise; she often forgot to eat throughout the day, leading her to dine at unusual times. She exercised often, but not well; gave advice (but did not ask for any), chatted with the mailman, and made sure the world knew she existed. She would talk to anyone who would listen, and tried her best to listen when they talked. All that, and she had the kindest face that Amelia had ever seen, and was unfailingly fair.

Amelia stuck her key into the doorway when Eileen realized she had forgotten hers. There were multiple locks - Eileen studied the exterior of her house while her daughter worked on the door. Renovation was clearly necessary - from the roof to the unmowed grass the green paint was chipping fast; even the tan shade of the windows needed a touch-up.

The peonies, planted so dutifully by Diana on Labor Day, were brown and withering. Their petals were scattered across the lawn; some sort of animal had clearly gotten to them. But houses were spread far apart on Peach Street, so even the neighbors with dogs could not be blamed. Diana was truly the only one who could be at fault. She had promised to take care of the flowers, apparently forgetting the fact that she would be off to college in less than a month.

———————————————

“How was writing club? I forgot to ask.” Eileen questioned as she checked the oven. It was just as she suspected - the chicken parm was burned badly. She cursed in her head, then out loud. There was no reason not to curse in front of Amelia now. “Oh, you know, it was fine. I’m still a little stuck.” Amelia answered from the stool at the counter, playing with her straw. Eileen placed the pan down and faced her daughter with her hands on her hips, oven mitts still on. “It’s been a few weeks now. What are you going to do about it?”

Amelia resisted the urge to respond angrily. Eileen didn’t understand. She wasn’t a writer. She thought there was a simple answer for everything. But Amelia didn’t voice these thoughts out loud. “I’ve been showing up to the club every week, even when I don’t feel like it. What else can I do?” It took everything in Eileen’s power to prevent herself from rolling her eyes. Her voice did not fluctuate in volume but Amelia could detect a shift in her mood. “Showing up isn’t enough. We’ve discussed this before. Don’t you want to be a better writer?”

Amelia’s blood didn’t quite boil, but it was getting there. Of course she wanted to be a better writer. What sort of question was that? Who the hell didn’t want to be better? But she didn’t want to put the work in to get there. She was okay with living a small life, a simple life, in which she was not particularly remarkable when compared to her neighbors. She would finish school, get a job - a good job - have a family, and then die. It was as simple as that. And Eileen had never understood it.

“It’s not that simple,” she murmured, as calmly as she could. Eileen laughed a little. “It is that simple. You want something. Work for it.” Eileen almost shocked herself with how harsh her own words sounded. “You need to write on your own time, outside of school. I bought you all those notebooks- ” That I didn’t ask for, Amelia thought. “...for a reason. Now, tell me whether you want salad or leftover lasagna, because this is clearly not edible.”

There was an uncomfortable silence, one that made Amelia long for those car conversations that she had so little patience for. “I’m not hungry,” Amelia muttered, and she hurried upstairs to the attic before her mother could respond. Amelia’s bedroom was in the attic, which was the largest room in the house. It was freezing in the winter, hot in the summer, and suffered leaks throughout the year, but she didn’t mind because of the space.

Amelia allowed herself to fall onto her mattress, burying her face in her purple comforter. The house was eerily quiet. If Diana were here, she would speak to Eileen on Amelia’s behalf. She had a knack for seeing both sides of things, whereas Amelia, while inclined to assume the best in people, struggled to grasp that more than one person could be right. How many hours it took her to fall asleep that night, she could not say.

———————————————

The sunny morning bore no resemblance to the rainy day before. It was not difficult for Amelia to get out of bed - she found that on days in which she had gotten little sleep, it was easier to drag herself from her sheets, which had provided little comfort in the first place. She pulled on her thickest cardigan, and ripping a sheet of looseleaf from an unused notebook, wrote:

Headed to school early . See you at 3 .

She hesitated for a second, then added: Love you.

On her way out, Amelia looked at Diana’s old car and was hit with a sudden, painful longing for her sister. If Diana were here, she might drive her to school, and she wouldn’t be so damn hot. That was how emotions hit you, Amelia thought, strongly, out of nowhere, then before you knew it they were gone. People couldn’t be bothered to be sad for too long; they were too busy.

Amelia had been sixteen for more than two months and had begged her mother to teach her to drive, but maybe she should stop asking. Eileen was probably the last person who should be teaching anyone how to drive. She herself had admitted it was a miracle she hadn’t gotten more than a ticket or two when she was in her 20s.

Time moved strangely that day. When Eileen woke up, saw Amelia’s note, and rushed off to work, her wake-up routine was long, but the morning was quick, and her lunch break seemed like more than an hour. People only have time to relax when there are things that they don’t want to think about, Eileen thought. It was a slow day at St. John’s, at least slower than most. By lingering in the break room next to her gossiping coworkers, she confirmed Erika’s termination as not just a theory but a fact. When Zara and Emilio left the room, Eileen stopped pretending to make coffee and decided not to repeat what she had heard.

Time was no different than usual on Amelia’s part, but she wondered if her mother’s day had been seriously affected by their disagreement last night. Her ponderings concluded the way they usually did: She was probably putting way more thought into the situation than her mother was. Amelia could tell when people wanted to talk or be left alone. But she was not a mind-reader, and as usual, she was wrong to think she might know the contents of her mother’s mind.

Eileen thought about groceries, the Easter fundraiser at her church, and Diana coming to stay with them next weekend. But she also thought about Amelia. She was talented, but she didn’t want her to live a life of regret. She felt like her younger daughter did not know how much she loved her, unlike Diana, who always knew. But Eileen banished these thoughts from her mind. It was not fair to compare them. They both had long, skinny legs, thin lips, and freckled noses, but they differed in almost every respect that mattered.

Amelia’s bag was hard on her back, heavy with the weight of three notebooks and Diana’s old laptop. She had no less than sixteen pens, some of them from the kitchen drawer that Eileen had told her many times not to touch. She sat down in the quietest corner of the room, near some girls she recognized vaguely from her study hall.

She had no excuse. She was going to write, and it was probably going to be bad. But she was going to do it anyway. She was going to write, and she was going to edit, and she was going to hand her finished chapter in to Miss Gonzales when the hour was up, something she had been putting off for quite some time. She didn’t want things to happen to her; she wanted to make them happen. When Eileen came to pick her up, she was not going to apologize. She would just tell her mother what she had done, and those words would serve the same purpose.

Miss Gonzales drummed her nails nervously on the oak surface of her desk. “Today is going to be a little different,” she said, competing with the loud senior boys for the classroom’s attention. Amelia tried not to curse out loud. It seemed every time she was committed to do something, the routine changed. “Don’t worry, you’ll still have most of the hour to write independently. I just thought you could set the first few minutes aside to talk to the people around you about the struggles that you face as writers, maybe bounce some ideas off one another.”

The room erupted with noise so suddenly that Amelia felt like opening a window. She could already tell that most people were not talking about their stories. This sort of thing usually made her nervous, but she looked quickly around her and saw Lizzy Thomas from her history class, and Hanna White, whose siblings she had baby-sat once or twice. Wordlessly, they and a few others pushed their desks together to form a table, and it wasn’t so bad.

“I guess I’ll start,” Lizzy exclaimed with a laugh. “I feel like I’m not getting anywhere. Then I look to the right, and you’re writing two pages a minute.” She looked unmistakably at Amelia. Amelia didn’t know how to react. She couldn’t imagine that anyone was looking at her without her knowledge or holding her up as some sort of standard - so she just smiled a little and shook her head.

“Me? I’m totally stuck, too. I haven’t written more than a paragraph in days,” she responded.

“But you always look like you’re writing.”

“That’s because I doodle when I run out of ideas.” Amelia held up her notebook for everyone at the table to see. “You were missing out on this masterpiece,” she insisted, gesturing at a poorly-done drawing of a snowman, and everyone at the cluster of desks cackled for a while.

Amelia flipped through the notebook, revealing page after page of bizarre drawings fueled by hours of boredom and lack of inspiration. She looked up and saw that Lizzy was still laughing at the misunderstanding, her green eyes sparkling with geniality. You really couldn’t compare yourself to anyone else, not as long as you didn’t know their whole story. They really were the Bad Writer’s Club - but they would get better.

#writers on tumblr #my writing #short story #writing #short fiction #feedback pls #write what you know

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drarrydreamy · 7 years

Text

It started in the summer before fifth year.

Harry had just returned to the Dursley’s for the summer, and he spent each day waiting for someone, anyone, to come and give him news, probably bad news, about Voldemort. He sat by his window, hands clenched tight into fists on his lap. At night, he tossed and turned in his sheets, ruminating his solitude.

One day, a week into the break, a sign was put up in the neighbor’s yard. “For Rent”, it said in bold red letters. Harry didn’t pay much mind to it, or to the couple who loaded their furniture and memories into a truck and drove away three weeks later, or to the middle-aged woman and teen boy who unloaded a similar truck of similar items into the house two days afterward. He waited by his window on those hot summer days, and watched the skies for an owl, his hands clenched into tight fists on his lap.

It was sweltering evening at the end of June when Aunt Petunia sent him out of the house. “I don’t care where you go or what you do, but I don’t want you anywhere near here when the new neighbors come over,” she said tiredly as she fluffed pillows in the front room, not even looking up at him standing in the door frame. Harry was more than willing to get out of the house and avoid their gossip, and left shortly thereafter.

Harry wandered the streets of his neighborhood as the sky darkened and the street lights came on. He meandered in and out of dark alleys where shadows loomed tall in the fading sunlight. Every gloomy doorway seemed to house a new fear, and he wondered what his friends were doing.

He worked his way back home after the sun had fully set, kicking a pebble down the walks. As he walked up his path, he noticed a triangle of light stretch across the lawn, and glanced up. A tuft of silvery blond hair was all he saw before the curtain swung back into place, and Harry was instantly set on edge. The only person her knew with that hair was Malfoy, and he could not think if any good reason Malfoy would be in his Muggle family’s house. He slipped his wand out of his pocket, and crept up to the door.

He turned the knob and stepped into the house, the dull murmur of conversation coming from the dining room. He heard Aunt Petunia’s false laugh ring out, and Uncle Vernon’s chortle. He tuned them out, and listen for any whispering or movement from the front room. He turned into it, and instantly had to hide his wand behind his back, shoving it into the waistband of his jeans.

In front of him was a lanky teen, nearly a whole head taller than him, with the blond hair he had seen from the walkway, angular features, and a warm smile. Harry, adrenaline pulsing out if his system, nearly mistook him for Malfoy. The only thing that set him apart from the boy Harry knew was the bright smile he wore that lit up his entire face. A few of his teeth were slightly crooked, and there were a few spots on his face, but Harry was left breathless nonetheless.

“Hey there, my name is Ben. I moved in a few days ago?” He said, his mouth even forming words in the same way Malfoy’s did, like he had thought about each word individually and said them with purpose. He stuck out his hand, and Harry’s eyes widened as he remembered the boy who had done that nearly five years previously.

Harry took the boys hand and schooled a fake smile on his face to mask his turbulent emotions. “Hullo, I’m Harry.”

The boys face sunk into a look of confusion, and he stuck his hands in his pocket. “I thought Mr. and Mrs. Dursley’s son was named Dudley?”

Harry scoffed, and then heard footsteps outside the room. Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and the woman he had seen several days previously walked into the room with cups of tea in hand, and Aunt Petunia’s eyes went wide as Uncle Vernon clenched his jaw when they saw Harry, flushed from his walk.

“Oh, how wonderful. Harry, you’re back from your walk,” Aunt Petunia remarked as she forced a smile onto her face. “Sylvia, meet my nephew, Harry. Harry, this is our new neighbor, Cynthia, and her son, Benjamin.”

Sylvia, the middle aged woman, had silvery blonde hair with similar angular features as her son. She too wore a bright smile as she shook Harry’s hand with both of her own. “Hello, Harry! So nice to meet you,” she said sincerely. Aunt Petunia motioned to the sofas and everyone sat down, except for Uncle Vernon and Harry. Vernon grabbed Harry’s elbow and steered him out of the room, face set into a deep scowl as soon as he turned away.

“Potter, I thought you were supposed to be out of the house for the evening,” Uncle Vernon muttered when they entered the kitchen.

“I was, but no one told me when I should come back,” Harry retorted. “Don’t worry, I’ll just go upstairs and lock myself in my room. You won’t hear a peep from me.”

Uncle Vernon glared at Harry for a few moments, and then stuck a stubby finger into his chest. “You better stay up there, you little freak,” he replied seriously, before walking out and into the sitting room. Harry heard Vernon loudly tell a joke as he walked into the sitting room, and heard polite laughter in response.

Harry rolled his eyes before he quietly stepped out of the kitchen. He walked to the stairs and had to pass the front room entrance.

“Harry, won’t you join us?” Cynthia asked, and Harry peered around the room, eyes lingering on the Malfoy look-alike. He was about to agree, just to spite his relatives, when Aunt Petunia shot up.

“No, I’m afraid Harry hasn’t been feeling well. He really must be getting his rest,” she said quickly, walking over to Harry.

“Oh, yes, I forgot. I’m ill,” Harry snarked back quietly before turning to the new, intriguing guests. “I apologize, but I must be leaving. So nice to meet you two.”

As Harry went upstairs, Aunt Petunia standing at the doorframe, he heard Ben say, “Oh, I didn’t know your nephew lived here.”

As Harry closed his door to the conversation picking up downstairs, he chuckled darkly under his breath, knowing that his relatives we’re fuming.

—

Harry had grown accustomed to the view from his small window; he faced a house identical to the Dursley’s, perfectly positioned across from a bedroom larger than his own. The previous neighbors had kept their heavy curtains shut day in and day out, but now there was nothing to block the window except for a gauzy white curtain, which fluttered in a rare breeze.

Harry, sitting at his window waiting for an owl, had his hands clenched tight into the fists he was beginning to associate with this dreadful waiting. He opened the window to entice the breeze into his room, and registered that the open window of his neighbor was playing music, something particularly loud and brash. He decided he liked it.

He saw a shadow of movement on the other side of the curtain, and called out, “Hey, neighbor.”

There was the sound of someone stumbling and cursing, before the music was turned down. Harry watched with interest as Ben parted the curtains and poked his head out of the window. Harry was once again startled at his resemblance to Malfoy, but was prepared, and he shot him a small smile.

“Well, ‘ello to you, too,” he replied with a grin, running a hand through his blond hair. It was such a casual motion, but so very unlike Malfoy that Harry nearly chuckled at the thought of Malfoy ruffling his perfectly gelled hair like that. Ben’s eyes bugged out, and he exclaimed, “wait, was my music too loud? I’m so sorry, I was thinkin-”

“No, no, it was fine,” Harry interrupted, “I was actually curious who you were listening to?”

“Oh, a man after my own heart!” Ben said before disappearing behind his curtains. Harry was astounded, but it didn’t register on his face before Been returned, holding a record sleeve up. “I found mum’s old player, and I bought this Clash vinyl down at a shop a while back.”

Harry ‘hmm’d as if he knew what Ben was talking about, but Ben mistook it for disapproval and his excitement faltered.

“Oh, do you not like them? I can turn it down, it’s no problem,” Ben said, and had nearly disappeared before Harry regained his voice.

“I’ve never heard of them, they don’t allow players at my school.” Harry said quickly, not wanting to lose a possible friend due to his ignorance of muggle things.

Ben looked relieved, and then forced a look of disgust onto his face. “No players? They sounds like the worst kind of people.”

Harry gave an indifferent, saying, “They’re not all bad, just a little strict sometimes.” Harry was drawn to this boy, and he looked down at his hands, finding that they were relaxed on his lap for the first time all day. Talking to this boy has taken his mind off of the dreadful waiting. He glanced up, pushing his glasses up his nose, and noticed Ben looking at him intensely. Checking him out. When Harry caught his eye, his whole face flushed, and Ben coughed a little to cover. Harry held a smile.

“So, um, if you wanted, I could show you some more of this stuff? You know, because you’re so deprived of good culture at your school.”

“I would really enjoy that,” Harry replied, and with a few butterflies in his stomach, he smiled, closed his window, and ventured next door.

—

Harry ventured next door everyday for nearly two weeks before he realized that Ben fancied him. He wasn’t too shocked to discover this, and wasn’t shocked to discover he reciprocated the crush. He had spent enough time gazing at Dean all last year year to know he wasn’t entirely straight- something he mentioned in passing to Ben on one of their languid afternoons spent on his carpeted bedroom floor, music playing quietly in his player.

Ben barely flushed- just a slight tint on his neck and ears- and he gazed resolutely out the window as he began to say quietly, “I figured out last year that I wasn’t straight, either. There was this boy… he was my lab partner. I thought he liked me,” Ben swallowed, turned his head, and caught Harry’s gaze. “I asked him out, but… he didn’t feel the same. He outed me to the whole school.” He said, voice quieter now than Harry had ever heard it.

Harry reached out and grabbed his hand, and gave him a small, encouraging smile. “I’m sorry you went through that.”

Ben’s eyes briefly looked at Harry’s hand resting gently on top of his own before peering up at Harry through his eyelashes. “Mom moved when the bullying got really awful,” Ben’s lips quirked, “but now I don’t think it was such a bad idea.”

Harry’s smile grew, and he could only nod his agreement.

It was like this, in the warmth of Ben’s bedroom, with Ben looking at Harry with such fondness, that Harry leaned forward and met Ben halfway in a sweet kiss that made Harry’s insides melt and his toes curl.

Their lips broke apart a few moments later, and Ben let out a chuckle.

“Oi, what’s so funny?” Harry said with a grin, unconsciously rubbing circles with his thumb on Ben’s palm.

“Just- I’m just really content right now,” Ben said, cocking his head at Harry, his lips quirked up once more.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Harry said, and they spent the rest of the afternoon in a haze of quiet conversation and pleasant kisses.

—

Harry left for the Order of the Phoenix hideout a month later; but Dumbledore allowed Harry one final day. He told Been that he was leaving for school; that communication would be sparse, and that he wouldn’t return until next summer. He privately considered returning for a few days over Christmas break, but decided that, in the wake for an imminent war, he wanted to leave Ben detached from himself.

Ben didn’t entirely understand Harry’s impending silence, or why he was starting school so early, but he understood that Harry wasn’t trying to hurt him.

Harry and Ben spent their last afternoon together, listening to the punk music Harry had come to associate with Ben, and shared bittersweet kisses. They both lay tangled on Ben’s bed, getting up only to flip the record. Harry could feel Ben’s heart beating steadily under his hand, and he allowed himself to live in that moment; he didn’t think about his friends, living in a hideout without him for however long. He didn’t think about his upcoming year, and his OWLs. He even forced the thought of Voldemort’s resurrection out of his mind, and just thought of this boy he was cuddling- this kind, beautiful, funny boy- and he allowed himself a small smile.

Ben hands him a CD on his way out, containing all of Harry’s favorite songs from the summer, and a few candid pictures of the two of them through the summer, taken by Sylvia, a very sneaky woman. On the plastic CD case, Ben had written in a neat script, “To Remember Me By”, and Harry threw his arms around the boy, kissing him heartily.

—

Now, when Harry sees Malfoy give him lingering looks, all he can think of is sweet kisses on warm afternoons, loud laughter, and the CD Harry keeps in the drawer on his nightstand.

*fin*

[[AN: Woah man. My first HP-related writing since 2014. I’m a little rusty; forgive me. Thank you for reading!]]

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