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broadstbroskis · 3 years

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thanksgiving | jeff skinner

a/n: it’s here!!! this is like 4k that i threw together in like a week after i took it as a personal challenge from @blueskrugs after i asked why we don’t write more thanksgiving fics. a huge shoutout to her and @danglesnipecelly, for inspiration and cheering me on for this, as well as literally anyone else who’s cheered me on to finish thing, you’re all the real mvps and i love you all 💚

-----

Jeff shrugs, and from across the table filled with pizza, beer, and a bunch of other things that are most definitely not on his approved list of foods, you stare at him.

“I dunno. I don’t really have plans, I guess? Probably just sit at home, relax a little?” He says. Your jaw drops. He has...he has what now? “You're going to your parent’s right?” You nod slowly, still stuck on the fact that he’s going to sit at home and do nothing on Thanksgiving, the best of all holidays. Not spend the day with some teammates, not make a quick trip to his family, nothing. “That’ll be fun!” Jeff grins, dimples popping. “What are you-”

“You’re doing nothing?” You get out finally, the words coming back to you.

Jeff’s smile falters, but only slightly, and he nods. “Yeah? I mean, there’s no practice, no games. I’ll just…” He trails off for a second and then shrugs. “Rest.”

“You’re not going to go, like, visit your parents? They’re right across the border!”

“It’s a Thursday.” Jeff says patiently and you abruptly remember that his Canadian-ness is the whole point of this conversation.

“Thanksgiving is the best holiday! You can’t sit at home alone on it; I forbid it!” Jeff’s smile grows again as he laughs and you try and fight your own grin as you shove at his shoulders, to no avail. “Come home with me!”

“What?” He laughs again, but this time, it’s more like disbelief.

But the idea is already growing in your mind. “Come home with me! You know my parents love you, they won’t mind at all!”

“I can’t just invite myself to your Thanksgiving!” Jeff protests.

You wave him off. “You’re not, I’m inviting you! Come on, we’d love to have you!” He still looks hesitant, so you add, “Our Thanksgiving is huge anyway; one extra mouth to feed isn’t going to put anyone out, Jeff.”

“Alright.” He caves, and you grin, pulling your phone close to you to text your mom and let her know. “But ask your mom, okay? Like, really ask her, don’t just, like, tell her I’m coming.”

“Too late!” You say cheerfully, showing him the text you’d sent in your family group chat, telling them you were bringing Jeff with you next week. Your mom’s already responded with a string of happy face emojis and your younger sister with a How I Met Your Mother gif about Canadian Thanksgiving. “Be prepared for a lot of Canada jokes!”

“Is that supposed to be different than any other time I see your family?’ Jeff deadpans, but you’re pretty sure he looks like, at least 50% more relaxed, so you count this as a win and ignore him completely, already mentally planning for the best holiday of the year.

-----

The drive back home to your parents takes about an hour longer than you’d like, stuck in the same godawful traffic as everyone else trying to leave Buffalo on Wednesday so that they can get back home in time to go out that night.

When Jeff finally pulls his car up in front of your childhood home, you can already see that it’s bustling with activity, getting ready for tomorrow. Most of your siblings have already arrived- only your older brother, with his wife and daughters will come in tomorrow, with the rest of your family- but your younger brother and sister have already come home, a fact that’s even more evident when you and Jeff walk in the front door and immediately trip over three pairs of sneakers.

“Liam!” You cry, grabbing onto Jeff so you don’t fall. “Motherfucker, move your shoes!”

Your brother pops his head out of the living room, AirPods in his ears. “I’m on a call!” And just as you're marveling at the fact that your brother is a real person with a real job taking real work calls, said real person with a real job spots Jeff and lights up. “Jeff! Bro! What’s up, man?”

“I thought you were on a call.” You snap at him.

“I’m on mute.” Liam slaps his palm against Jeff’s pulling him in for a ridiculous handshake-bro hug combo, before he finally comes over and lifts you off the floor. “Yo!”

“Yo!” You repeat, honestly unable to believe you’re related to this kid. If the two of you didn’t look exactly alike, you’d probably think he was adopted. “You still coming out tonight?”

“Hell yeah, this is my last call. I’m ready to go.”

You snicker, looking down at his sweatpants and dress shirt combo- he must have taken a video call at some point today. “Yeah, okay, bud.”

He ruffles your hair, in that annoying way he’s been able to do ever since he grew taller than you. “Don’t you worry, I will be.”

You laugh, ducking under his arm, to let him get back to it. You’ve got no doubts about that. Liam’s always ready to party. “Finish your call so we can start pregaming.”

He grins, like you knew he would. “Now we’re talking.” And then he ducks back into your dad’s office.

Jeff is laughing when you look back at him and you give him a look. “What?”

“Nothing, just forgot how the two of you were when you got going.”

“Yup, and you’re stuck with us for next two days!” You grin.

Jeff rolls his eyes at you, but he’s still smiling when he follows you to the kitchen, in search of your mom. She’s at the counter, rolling dough for biscuits, her only other contribution to the annual Thanksgiving dinner that she hosts, besides the turkey; a holiday that she’d taken over hosting once it had become too much for your grandmother to handle, but only on the caveat that everyone began contributing food toward the meal. It’s been a potluck style holiday ever since.

She’s ultra-focused, the volume on her favorite playlist high (this wild mix of 80’s pop and today’s hits that’s actually kind of a banger), so you sneak up behind her and wrap your arms around her. “Hi!”

“Jesus!” Your mom jumps, elbowing you in the process, but you’re laughing too hard to care. “Don’t do that!”

“Just excited to see you!” You beam at her, squeezing her once more, before pulling away. “Where do you want the pie?” Jeff lifts the pie you’d made yesterday, showing your mom.

Your mom purses her lips, studying the kitchen around her. “Leave it on the counter for now; I’ll have your dad clear some space in the garage.” She gestures with her elbow. “Hi Jeff!”

“Hi!” Jeff pulls out his best smile, a real one, dimples super popped. “Thank you for having me-”

Your mom cuts him off before he can finish, like you knew she would. “Oh, we’re so happy you could make it! You’re welcome anytime, Jeff!” She assures him.

“Is the guest room ready?” You ask. “We’ll throw our stuff upstairs before Dad sees it at the bottom of the steps and has a fit.”

Your mom fights back a laugh at that- a statement that everyone in your family knows all too well-but then looks almost apologetic as she finishes, “It is, but we gave it to Katie.”

“Oh, Katie’s here too?” Your sister’s roommate at college was, at this point, basically another sister to you. She hardly went home for breaks within the semesters, usually came up for at least a month during the summer, and more often than not came home with Abby when she was back for anything. The “guest room” really was more like Katie’s room at this point.

“Where else would she be?” Abby appears, right on cue, with Katie right behind her, practically matching in leggings and oversized sorority shirts. “It’s Thanksgiving; she’s ready to rage tonight.”

You actually can’t wait for the babies to be hungover tomorrow-both were 21 for their first Thanksgiving Eve and you know they’re going to be in a super rough spot tomorrow-but you keep that thought to yourself.

“It didn’t even occur to me!” Your mom says apologetically. “I just gave Katie her usual room.”

“No, it’s cool. Jeff and I can share. He doesn’t mind, right?” But you barely even wait for his shrug and nod in agreement. It’s not like you haven’t before, when you’re either too lazy or too drunk to go home. You’re both adults, it’s no big. “I’ve shared a bed with you before; I’ll spare Katie the bruised shins.” You tease your sister.

Katie cracks up as Abby sputters out how rude you are. “It’s a hazard!” Katie agrees, dodging the swat your sister sends towards her. It sets the two of them off, which you take as your cue to grab Jeff’s hand and drag him (and your stuff) up to your room.

Of course, usually when you’re sharing a bed with Jeff, it’s a king sized bed, or at least a queen- definitely not the double that your parents just shoved in your old room to replace the queen bed that had been in there until you moved out and took your furniture with you. You hadn’t realized how small it was though, not until today, until the idea of actually having to share it with someone, with Jeff, who might not be a giant, but isn’t tiny. “Sorry.” You apologize, almost unsure of what you’re saying.

Jeff shrugs. “Well, at least you don’t kick.” He smiles, as then it’s like everything’s back to normal, that awkward feeling that was growing over you gone as quickly as it came.

“She’s a bruiser, don’t let her tell you otherwise.” You throw your bag down, rifling through it for the sweater you were planning to wear tomorrow, to hang it up so it isn’t too wrinkled.

Jeff laughs. “I’ll take your word for it.” He’s holding up his shirt, a button down and a tie. “Where can I hang this?”

“You can’t wear that!”

He frowns, likely at the vehemence you’d just spoken that with. “Uhh, why not?”

“You’ll get roasted.” Seriously, you’d told him it wasn’t a dressy affair. God, what part of not dressy does he think requires a tie? “Don’t you have, like, a sweater?”

“I mean, yeah, but-”

“Sweater and jeans, that’s fine.”

Jeff gives you a look. “That doesn’t seem-”

“Sweater. And jeans.” You repeat. He’ll thank you tomorrow, when your uncle doesn’t ask him when tea is. When your cousin doesn’t talk to him only in a fake British accent for the entire night.

Jeff hands over a sweater, a soft thing you’ve seen him wear on many occasions, and you smile your thanks at him, hanging it up next to yours. “Meet your standards?” He asks; you think he’s aiming for teasing but he kind of misses the mark, sounding a little more nervous than joking.

“Perfect.” He smiles back at you and you laugh. “Come on, you dork. Let’s go see what’s for dinner tonight.”

-----

“Don’t wake me up when you come in tonight!” Your dad calls, as he drops the five of you off at Mel’s, the bar for Thanksgiving Eve. Your friends are already at the bar, you’re anticipating a high school reunion for sure, and you’ve warned Jeff of this, even though he assured you that he could handle it, and he was just excited for a nice, chill night.

You’d actually laughed out loud at that. Oh Jeffrey.

“Pshh.” Liam waves your dad off. “I haven’t done that since I was like 16 and still having to sneak out.”

Your dad gives him a look. “I was talking to your sister.” He looks over at Abby, who ignores him completely, in favor of taking a SnapChat with Katie, and he sighs resolutely. You all absolutely know she isn’t listening to a word he says. “Have fun, be safe. Uber home.”

Liam salutes him. “Will do.”

Inside the bar, the night starts exactly as you and Liam have started your last few Thanksgiving Eve’s-with a round of shots at the bar as you’re ordering drinks, before splitting off to find your respective friends to start the evening.

Jeff fits in with your friends fantastically, laughing and joking around with them like he’s known them forever, even though you’re sure the only one he’s met is your oldest friend, Ashley. But he greets Ashley and her husband, Brian, like old friends, and quickly joins conversations with all your other friends, and soon hours have passed before your brother is sliding up behind you. “Heads up.” Liam mutters as he passes. “Douche at 3 o’clock.”

You tense as it takes everything in you not to turn and look over. “Hey.” Jeff nudges you, concern clear in his eyes as he looks at you, and you’re not sure what he pulled himself away from, but you must look pretty bad. “You okay?”

You nod, kinda spacily, but leaning in closer to him, and he takes the cue to curl in toward you- you’re not really interested in shouting to the entire bar and you’re really not interested in drawing attention to yourself. “Yeah, just- my ex is over there.”

Jeff purses his lips for a minute and then schools his face back to neutral. “I take it things didn’t end well.”

“No.” You say, thinking of the demise of your relationship with Dylan. “It did not.”

You hadn’t even realized that Jeff grabbed your hand until he’s squeezing it gently. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You shake your head. “It was...definitely for the best.” It might have taken you a while to see that, but you can now, even if the rare instances you still see Dylan sometimes rattles you. “I thought I was going to marry him, at one point, but I’m so much happier here now.”

Jeff smiles. “Good.”

You squeeze his hand once more, a thanks for his comfort and care, before both of you rejoin the conversation, and you forget about Dylan entirely for the next hour, until you physically run into him coming back from the bar with another round of drinks for you and Jeff.

“Hey!” Dylan beams at you, goes right in for a cheek kiss, like you’re still that familiar, and once again you stiffen up.

“Hi.” You return politely, ready to sidestep around him and return to Jeff and your friends.

“No, wait.” Dylan steps with you, blocking your path. “I haven’t seen you in forever. Let’s catch up a minute, what’s new?”

“No offense, Dylan, but I’m not really looking to catch up with you.” You say flatly.

He opens his mouth to respond, but before he can another voice cuts in. “Everything okay here?” Jeff asks politely, stepping very purposefully next to you, and Dylan’s eyes immediately fly over to him.

“Mhmm,” You nod. “Was just on my way back to you.”

“Good.” Jeff says, in a tone far more harsh than you usually hear him take. “Let’s get back.” He positions himself again, clearing a space for you to easily slip past Dylan, and then steps closely behind you, catching up quickly.

“Thanks.” You lean against him, gently, not looking to spill either of your drinks, but Jeff solves that problem by taking his.

“Any time.” Jeff says softly and you don’t have much else to say on the matter so you just nudge him once more in thanks and walk back toward your friends with him at your side.

-----

When you wake up the next morning, you’re warm and comfortable and only a little hungover, which you count as a huge success. There’s not too much noise going on downstairs yet, which means you definitely have some more time to sleep, so you curl back into your pillow, humming contently when it pulls you in closer.

And then your eyes pop open abruptly, because pillows don’t do that.

Except they do when they look like Jeff Skinner, who looks just as soft and warm and comfortable as you feel right now, still sleeping judging by the evenness of his breath.

It’s just...it’s a really nice way to wake up, with Jeff’s kind-of smiling face, looking super soft and cozy as he breathes just on the wrong side of too loud, but not so loudly that it drives you nuts.

It’s a little too early to unpack that, and your hangover might not be that bad but it’s definitely bad enough that you’re not ready to think on that, so you close your eyes and let yourself curl into Jeff and fall back asleep.

-----

When you do finally get out of bed, Thanksgiving morning is its usual chaos, running around with last minute errands, cleaning, and helping your mom in the kitchen. The last to shower for the day, by the time you arrive downstairs, the Lions vs. Bears game is well underway, your notoriously early grandparents have already arrived, and your grandmother is already asking your mom where that one turkey decoration she bought her one year is.

You bypass the kitchen entirely and move toward the living room, where you find your dad, grandfather, Jeff, and siblings all gathered, just as you’d expected. You slide down on the floor next to Jeff, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before more of your family arrives and you’re offering your set up anyway, and wait for the next round of chaos to begin.

It doesn’t take long. Your aunts, uncles, and cousins start pouring in and then it’s just introduction after introduction, as you wrap up showing off Jeff to one group just as the next arrives. You are absolutely confident he has no idea who anyone is, but it’s fine, because he’s still laughing and joking around with all your uncles and cousins that have joined you in watching football.

The kitchen is its own brand of chaos, when you make a quick stop in on your back from a beer run, but chaos has never stopped your aunt before and it certainly isn’t today. “Oh my god!” She exclaims, after you’ve pressed a smacking kiss to the top of your grandmom’s head. “That boy!”

“What boy?” You ask, like an idiot, which is immediately clear from the looks you get from everyone in the kitchen, even your usually oblivious uncle, who’s doing...something...with the ham they’d brought. “Who, Jeff?”

“Yes.” Another aunt stresses. “He’s cute!”

You shrug. “Yeah, I mean-”

But your grandmom cuts you off this time. “And so friendly! Just the nicest boy! Oh, you couldn’t have found anyone better!” She exclaims.

“Well, I haven’t.” You announce, watching all of their faces fall. “So sorry to burst that bubble.”

“Why?” One of your older cousins frowns. “Girl. Get on that. You are not going to do better than that boy in there.”

“I truly don’t know if that was meant to be a dig at me or you all think that highly of Jeff already, but regardless. We are just friends.” Now everyone in the kitchen is giving you a look. You gather the beers and retreat, distributing them as you return to your spot on the floor near Jeff.

He’s giving you a look as you pass him his, but whatever’s on your face must not be too bad, because he just thanks you as you pass him the bottle, and you nod in return as you try to find the same comfortable spot as before, leaning against his thigh.

-----

Your dad catches you a bit later, as he’s coming back with beers this time and you’re coming out of the bathroom, and he nudges you carefully as you take a few bottles from his hand. “So Jeff?”

You groan. The tone of that statement was far too loaded. “Jesus, you too?”

Your dad laughs. “Who else?”

“Everyone.”

“Well maybe that should be your hint.” Your dad says teasingly, but also not? There’s definitely some seriousness to this. “That Jeff’s pretty perfect for you.”

You stare at him. “You’ve met Jeff, like, a hundred times. Why’s this coming out now?”

“I always thought you were my smart kid and that you’d figure it out yourself.” He muses. “Now I realize you’re only book-smart and you’d never figure this out on your own.” And then he leaves you there in the hallway, with your jaw dropped and too many thoughts, as he continues on, laughing at you.

-----

When the call to come serve yourselves echoes into the room, the usual mad scramble follows immediately. It’s only as you’re getting into line behind your brother that you realize that Jeff’s not with you anymore, and you abandon the long line waiting for food, in favor of seeking out Jeff.

You find Jeff upstairs, in your room, just kind of lounging on your bed, and you lean against the doorway. “Hey! Food’s ready.”

“Yeah.” Jeff nods, the smile he sends you back in return far too tight and forced to be genuine. “Be right down.”

But he doesn’t move, so you step in and climb into your bed next to him. “What’s wrong?”

Jeff laughs; it’s kind of hollow and doesn’t sound anything like his usual loud laugh or his giggles that you love. “What- nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Jeff.” You say softly. “Come on.”

He sighs. “Why did you bring me here?”

That...was not at all what you expected. “What?”

“Why did you bring me here?” He repeats. “Why did you bring me home, to your family? I thought, maybe, finally…” He trails off for a minute. “Except, there’s like ten other randos here too!” He laughs again, that hollow thing that you’re already hating. “Everybody in this family just brings people home, and that’s awesome, okay? Please don’t ever change that about yourself. I just-I thought we had something special, is all.” He says, sounding almost sad? Melancholy?

“You are special.” You hate this. Jeff should never be sad; he should always be happy and smiling and joking. This is worse than seeing him after losses, worse than seeing him at low points in the season, that one game when he realizes that shit’s done and they’re just playing to keep playing now, that playoffs won’t be coming this year, again. “Jeff, you’re-”

“I’m in love with you.” Jeff says and it’s so straight-up, matter-of-fact, like it’s never not been a fact for him. “And I’m sorry I’ve fucked things up here for tonight and made this so awkward. I just- being here with you and your family just made me want you that much more.”

There’s so so so much you want to say to Jeff, but it’s like time is frozen. You can’t speak, can’t move, can’t do anything except look at him in awe, until he starts to move off your bed, when you reach for him, finally, resting your hand on his thigh, relieved when he looks back at you. “My dad thinks I’m an idiot.” You blurt out and Jeff just gives you a look. “I’m sorry; that wasn’t what I wanted to say.” You take a deep breath, trying to gather the jumble of thoughts in your head. “Or at least, not the only thing. He thinks I’m an idiot because he thinks you’re perfect for me and I didn’t see it. My whole family thinks you’re perfect- cute and friendly and nice- and god, Jeff, you are! You’re all those things!” He’s still watching you, with like, barely the smallest hint of a smile on his face. “I just-didn’t realize you were perfect for me until we came here.”

Now he’s full on beaming, dimples showing, and you don’t even realize that you’re returning the grin until his hand comes up to your face, thumbing at the corner of your lip. “I’m sorry I’m a dumbass.” You finish lamely, too busy smiling at Jeff. “Please kiss me so we can make sure we get biscuits.”

Jeff hums. “I don’t know if I can kiss you now and just...stop.”

“Well I’m not going down to eat until you do.” You say stubbornly. “And you’ve been hyping up those biscuits since breakfast.”

“Fair enough.” Jeff laughs and then you’re smiling into the best first kiss you’ve ever had, tangling your hands into his hair and wondering if you may actually end up missing the meal this year.

#jeff skinner imagine #jeff skinner fanfic #jeff skinner fanfiction #hockey imagine #hockey fanfic #Hockey Fanfiction #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #my hockey fics

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bbugyu · 4 years

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how jeonghan knew

a journey with yoon jeonghan, lee seokmin, and you.

there was always something about his infectious laugh and his genuine nature that felt like fate to jeonghan, and maybe you were the muse that kept their red thread in tact.

prelude | part one | part two | part three | epilogue

wc.10662 (LMFAO) | fluff, smut, courtship, angsty in the beginning, polyamory, sugar daddy!jeonghan musician!seokmin escort!reader, hi cheol, hi gyu (again), hi boo, hi wonu, gay pining, jk he's pan probably, discovering sexuality, daddy kink, special guest seokmin!!!!!, threesome, lots of mlm, oral, cumpla, handjobs, choking, butt plugs, male penetration, there's a full on reader-less memberxmember sex scene idk, unprotected sex, please use condoms, jeonghan gets overwhelmed, the TEASING, jeonghan being a home improvement freak, don’t mind han jisung he’s just vibing, required listening is positions (2020) by ariana grande because it’s a perfect album

and here we have poly seokhan: the gayening!!! this is going to be the end of my scheduled updates for neverending artistry, but i’ll be posting an epilogue when i finish it - probably after i post a couple of other fics. this chapter.... is my fave......... i think u will see why lol. i went ahead and got a lil carried away with the house stuff but LISTENNNN i watch a lot of architecture videos ok LFJDSJ

thank you all so much for your continued support and incredible feedback on this series! it seriously means so much to me and i love seeing asks and messages from everyone telling me how excited they are to read more. i hope this satisfies you!!!

jeonghan is pretty sure he always loved seokmin. it wasn't something he would ever be able to change about himself, he figured, as he watched his friend date woman after woman in college with varying seriousness. he decidedly ignored any amount of feelings he harbored for the younger, especially after he dropped architecture as his major and he saw less of him.

jeonghan tried to get over the destined musician (he would always be singing or fiddling with his guitar when he was meant to be helping jeonghan with a diorama) with several women, and after decisively focusing on his career for a couple years, he found success in another man. his short lived gym buddy, but lasted quite a bit longer as his boyfriend. they had connected first when jeonghan had offhandedly commented that he liked the logo on his shirt, to which the long lashed, broad shouldered man had said he had gotten it at the brand's store down the street, making jeonghan chew his cheek before he admitted that he had helped design that location. they connected the second time later that night, clumsily but intensely, and jeonghan liked his plush pouty lips and how his messy black hair felt between his fingers.

while that didn't last forever, he found varied success in other men, and he figured this was why dating women had always been so difficult for him. definitely not that he had been given small choice amongst the rotten apples that attended his college.

he was single again, and at an industry party when he reconnected with an old friend from college who happily reminisced about the fun their small group of friends had back then. he asked if jeonghan remembered seokmin, the guy that dropped the program.

"lee seokmin?" he asked, his brows knitting as he tried to react normally to the name, and mingyu hit his shoulder, laughing.

"yeah! guess what? that son of a bitch is teaching my niece piano!"

jeonghan smiled at the idea of seokmin as a piano teacher, nodding along as mingyu talked about how he had volunteered to take her to her lesson one week, only to be put face to face with a long lost friend. jeonghan laughed as mingyu imitated the face the other had made, laughing harder when he recognized it and remembered seeing it on seokmin's face in the past, then telling mingyu about how he had once pranked him by making the poor guy think that he was going to fail a project because seokmin had accidentally destroyed a diorama. it had already been graded, and he was going to take it apart to save on materials anyways, but the younger nearly cried when he thought he had wasted hours of jeonghan's time and cost him the grade by accidentally kicking it off his desk.

he asked how seokmin was doing these days, and mingyu told him he seemed well, and that he takes his niece to her lessons as often as he can spare, just to chat for a while. "i could give you his number," he said, feeling his pockets for his phone. "i'm sure he'd love to hear from you."

mingyu had been right. seokmin did love hearing from him. and he loved the way seokmin made him laugh with his ever joking tone and physical comedy antics. the way his eyebrows creased as he tried to keep a stern face but was unable to hide the smile across his lips. the way he always fought with him for the check despite jeonghan being older and notably better off.

he didn't love, however, how seokmin nodded his head after the waitress and asked him if he thought he had a shot.

maybe he was desperate, or maybe he wanted an excuse to not date seriously, or maybe he just wasn't ready to let go, but jeonghan continued to invite seokmin out, despite the fact that their relationship would never develop past friends who met in college. he enjoyed his company anyways, even if it felt bittersweet.

he poured himself into his work for several months, taking more contracts than usual and keeping himself occupied, only really seeing others for meetings and constructions, or when he was depressed on a friday night and caved, asking seokmin to join him for drinks somewhere. he continued this cycle for too long, his personal assistant noticing his mood changes before most.

"are you taking your vitamins?"

"yes, seungkwan, i'm taking my vitamins," jeonghan bit back, fully aware that he wasn't asking about vitamins at all, but about his state. confirming he was still making an effort to take care of himself rather than spiraling, sat in his living room on a tuesday after being told by a doctor to rest, for god's sake as a solution to him nearly collapsing several hours earlier. seungkwan shifted on his feet, tongue running over his teeth as he stared at the architect, hands folded in front of him.

"you need to stop seeing him. it only hurts you."

jeonghan sighed, staring at the black screen of his television. "i know."

his assistant studied him. "you should come out with the team sometime," he said. "we get drinks on wednesdays, usually. come tomorrow, it could take your mind off things."

jeonghan looked up at seungkwan, who was clearly sucking on his cheek. he knew he was right. more importantly, seungkwan knew he knew, but jeonghan had a hard time wanting to take his mind off this one specific thing, considering the way this one specific thing laughed like a hyena, poured himself over a piano like an ocean wave, and sang along like an angel. his head fell back on the couch, and he had to take a long, conscious breath to lower the ringing in his ears at the silence. "i'll be there next time."

seungkwan exhaled in defeat, eyes flickering around as he excused himself and said goodnight, knowing his boss was lying.

jeonghan found you on accident - put in an uncomfortable corner by an ultimatum from his publicist and the circulating rumor that he sleeps with men because he can't keep a woman around that seemed to pile on top of everything else on his plate - and the second you opened your mouth, he knew you were special.

he remembered the profile he had seen from your broker, and knew you were attending university. he asked you your major, and when you told him you wanted to produce music for a living, something deep in him stirred. you had been sitting in his car for all of twenty minutes, and you nearly had him under your spell already.

he couldn't understand his fascination with you, but he continued to book you for dates, sometimes deciding what event he would be attending by asking what day you were available that week. he figured if he needed to prove to the world that he wasn't gay (which he was, he was pretty sure), you were the only one he was interested in doing it with.

maybe he had a thing for musicians.

he had taken out quite a few escorts before you, but none of them were nearly as fun. you always did an incredible job engaging in whatever event he brought you to, but also hit his chest as you tried to stifle a laugh at something he muttered into your ear, guiding you away. his friends liked you, too, the few he had. the ones that had met you. yongsun had even tugged him aside briefly, asking if he really liked you. you seemed nice, she had said. and good, in general, but also for him. she wanted to make sure he wasn't just leading you along to quiet some stupid rumor. he glanced at you, smiling wide as you excitedly discussed music with one of his other friends (the fifth and last person he liked at this event, the two of you included), and wasn't quite sure why he told her he actually liked you, but didn't feel the need to correct himself.

then you told him you were quitting, and he realized what he would be losing. then you kissed him, and he realized what he had been feeling. then you looked at him with wide eyes, just as shocked as he was by the explosion of fireworks you had both just experienced, and he realized what he had been missing out on all this time.

he figured he must have always loved you as his eyes scanned the hotel bar, confused at how you had managed to get away so quickly. he was running into the hall to see if you had escaped to the lobby when someone caught his arm.

"hey, you seen yongsun?"

jeonghan blinked at his blonde friend, recognizing her play. "have you seen y/n?"

"try the bathroom," she said, throwing a thumb over her shoulder in the direction she had come from.

he looked down the hall at the restroom signs, nodding. "i saw her at the chocolate fountain a minute ago."

byulyi patted his shoulder as she walked past him. "good luck, yoon."

it felt good telling you the truth, while sitting in your well organized and tastefully decorated studio apartment that you had insisted he would hate, even if he was too scared to admit all of it. why he had needed you before, but wanted you now. his heart nearly beat out of his chest when you agreed to his conditions, though he recognized that he had given you just about every advantage in the deal. it would have been near impossible for you to say no, especially after the way you had kissed him before someone had finally tried to enter the bathroom you were hiding in.

for a while, he only kissed you as a farewell, mostly because he enjoyed the old school romanticism of kissing a beautiful woman in the moonlight, her back against the passenger door of his black vehicle parked on the street outside her studio apartment. then, when he had invited you to his home after the two of you had ditched a boring dinner several hours early, you had curled up in his side to watch a movie. at some point, he caught you staring at him, and you put a hand on his cheek and kissed him sweetly. slowly. kissed him in a way that only made him crave more. you smiled, settling back into his side for the rest of the movie, and even though you had done it unconsciously, the back of your hand rested against his thigh in a way he had a hard time ignoring, and he decided he must have just had real shit taste in women before he had met you.

the following sunday, when you mentioned how pitch black the sky seemed at that late hour, having gotten caught up binging some drama, he not-so-vaguely hinted that he'd be okay with you spending the night in his bed. you eyed him, and he shrugged playfully.

"or i have guest rooms. up to you."

"i have class tomorrow," you tested.

"i can take you," he responded. "if you want."

you paused, watching him as he recorked the wine bottle the two of you had opened earlier in the evening but only managed to have one glass of each before abandoning it to cuddle on the couch. he was always so thoughtful, even in his teasing. he cared about your comfort. he wanted to maintain your boundaries. but it had been a really long time since you had gotten laid, and everything in you yearned to say yes. jeonghan's voice in your head reminded you, no expectations. this could be whatever you wanted out of it.

so you went to bed with him.

jeonghan would swear up and down that you were the most beautiful woman in the world, and his beliefs were only confirmed when he pulled your shirt off of you, dragging your pants down your legs, and got a real look at you for the first time. you felt unexplainably embarrassed under his gaze, asking if he was okay.

"yeah," he said breathlessly, a hand running up your side, your back arching slightly to his touch. he curled over you before he whispered "god, yeah, i'm more than okay," against your lips.

not even ten minutes had passed before you told him you loved him between your panting, and he was so ecstatic when he could tell you, wholly and truthfully, that he loved you, too. and after your pulses had died down and you were falling asleep in his arms, he said that if you were staying under his roof, you were not allowed in any guest rooms. that if you needed space, he would find a different bed to sleep in, because this one looked best with you in it, and he refused to have it any other way.

jeonghan never got bored with you. over time, you began going to his place after events and dinners more than he dropped you off at your apartment, becoming an often enough occurrence that he had asked you one night to fill an online shopping cart with clothes for you to keep in his closet, so you could stop this silly packing bags nonsense. he had already bought you a full set of toiletries for his bathroom, started keeping your favorite snacks in the pantry, and even gone as far as to buy you the house slippers you had offhandedly said were cute when the two of you wandered aimlessly around a mall together. you were becoming a part of his home in more ways than one, and he was happy to have you.

he offered you an unused office on the second floor when you started studying for finals on the peninsula of his kitchen counter one monday afternoon, and you asked what was wrong with you doing it where you were.

"because you're not going to clean it up," he pointed out.

"maybe if we had a rewards system," you argued. "if i clean up, i get a prize."

he laughed, rounding the small jut of countertop, thinking about how he would probably need a proper kitchen island if you were going to be sticking around. "just because i give you an allowance, doesn't mean you're a child. you're not supposed to focus on the baby part of sugar baby."

you pouted as you turned on the stool to face him, a hand gently tugging his tie to pull him into you. "what if i focus on the daddy part of sugar daddy?"

a hunger dropped in jeonghan, gazing down at you as you sat at his kitchen counter, surrounded by textbooks and notes. your eyes sparkled under the lights, and his fingers went behind your neck before he kissed you, muttering against your lips to try calling him that again, angel.

the kitchen remodel had gone about as smoothly as it could have, given the fact that it was nearly impossible to transport such a large slab of granite for his dream island without it snapping in half from its own weight, but they managed, and when the light fixture finally turned on for the first time after the new cabinet doors had been installed, he felt justified in remodeling a kitchen that had hardly needed updating. he felt even more justified when he came downstairs to find you, having woken up in an empty bed, only to have you yell at him as you flipped pancakes on the griddle of his new gas range, saying you were going to bring him breakfast in bed and if he didn't cooperate, he wouldn't see you for a week. he laughed at your threatening spatula, putting his hands up in surrender, unable to stop smiling as he made his way back up the stairs.

you had enrolled in online courses for your last year of school, mostly so you didn't have to be anywhere specific for several hours every day, and instead could keep your schedule massively open to cater to jeonghan's needs. this also meant you usually attended your afternoon lectures at his home, waiting for him to get off work and distract you.

then the two of you started attended wednesday drinks with the team. seungkwan had thanked you, though you hadn't realized that you were deserving of a thanks.

"he'll tell you when he wants to, i guess," he said, twirling the beer in his hand. "but he wasn't in a great place before he met you."

you could hear the subject of your exchange laughing further down the bar, and you wondered what kind of place he meant, but tapped your glass against seungkwan's instead of asking the question. "to better places."

he chuckled, bringing the beer to his lips. "cheers to that."

jeonghan enjoyed having you on his lap on the couch, listening to whatever r&b record you had chosen as you worked your lips against his. he nudged several kisses down your neck, and you mentioned offhandedly that there was a perfect place in his living room for a bar, pointing at the wall behind him. he pulled away from you, turning his body with an arm over the back of the sofa, and his head cocked as he stared at the wall that only held a painting. he silently agreed with you, wondering why you seemed to inspire all his recent projects as you nipped at his neck, drawing his attention back to you with a smile on his face.

the bar was finished in time to hire a bartender for a halloween party. he hadn't told the guests that it was an anniversary party, but you had been made aware of the secret arrangement during a conversation the two of you had over a private meal in your favorite restaurant the week before.

"a threesome," you asked, hoping for clarification.

"with a guy, preferably," jeonghan said. "but i could be convinced to approve of a girl if that's what you would like."

"you're being serious?" you seemed to find yourself asking him that a lot. every time he suggested something that he knew you wanted, you wondered if he was pulling your leg. "and you want me to choose?"

"yeah, at the party," he said, watching you shake your head incredulously with a smile on his face. the two of you had discussed the possibility in the past, and he thought it made a fun gift. an unexpected one, from someone who had enough money to comfortably gift you just about anything. "i have to approve, obviously, but you get to pick the candidates."

you thought a moment. "what if we can't agree on anyone?"

"then i take you to bed alone and we have fun anyways."

he laughed when you squinted at him.

"if the opportunity comes up down the line, we can try again later," he said. "but i thought this would give you something fun to do while i'm hosting guests."

and it had, as you sneakily scoped out the guests, flitting around the party of both familiar and unfamiliar faces in your angelic cheerleading costume. visiting and laughing heartily with the team, as well as your uni friends that jeonghan insisted you invite, offering them more drinks, then saying something about having to play hostess so you could continue your search. byulyi and yongsun were there, and you complimented their matching rapunzel and flynn get up, jeonghan catching you for just a second to ask if you needed anything.

you settled in on one target perhaps too quickly, without even really having made an effort to see all the options. you had been struck by the same sharp cheekbones, puppy dog eyes, and crooked smile that jeonghan had once fallen for. when he saw you tucked into lee seokmin's side, recognizing your flirting even from a distance and noticing how receptive the musician was to it, his heart fluttered, and he couldn't tell if it was a good or bad thing.

a good thing, he decided, when seokmin had asked him permission before he came in you. because, seemingly, sexuality was much more of a spectrum than jeonghan had once thought, and perhaps his college crush just needed the encouragement of an incredible woman to try something a little beyond his experience, much like he had.

and when you wouldn't stop mentioning the musician the two of you had enjoyed the company of while schmoozing guests at the opening of him and his friend's collaborative art exhibit, he got a slick idea. on the way home, he told you that you weren't allowed to make a noise until he hung up the phone, but you were already writhing in the passenger seat just as the phone rang.

and when he answered, you clamped a hand over your mouth, a bare foot landing on the dashboard as you tried to grind against jeonghan's hand, his voice steady as he talked to the younger.

and when he mentioned you, your walls pulsed around his fingers, a smile finding its way into his lips as he spoke. he tried not to take too much pleasure in the way you looked at him with begging eyes and your fist between your teeth, or in the way seokmin's tone dropped as he confirmed that he would get a cab, but he truly couldn't help himself when he made eye contact with seokmin as you sucked him off, his hips canting into yours recklessly, forcing seokmin to break the contact as he reacted to your moan on his cock.

he noticed the way seokmin's hips began to move on their own, begging for enough control to chase his nearing high in your mouth but having it brought right to his doorstep instead. jeonghan felt your perfect heat cling to him in reaction, and before he could think to stop himself, he pulled you into his chest by your throat, not daring to let you claim it all as he lapped cum from your mouth. you whimpered against him, your orgasm lasting impossibly long as he fucked into you, getting milked by your needy walls.

when he caught seokmin staring directly at him, he grinned and wiped the back of his hand across his chin and lower lip, languidly licking any escaped cum off it, and asked if he wanted to try his, too.

seokmin agreed, nodding shakily before jeonghan massaged at your sides, pumping himself into you a few more times. he told you to give seokmin's mouth a ride. you groaned, his cum dripping down your thighs.

jeonghan watched the younger's cock twitch as you moaned over him, one hand on the wall and the other on his scalp, his fingers digging into your thighs. he stared at how it never lost hardness. he didn't even realize that his hands were on seokmin's hip and thigh before he even asked if he could touch him, but a large hand left your thigh to shakily bring jeonghan's to his thick cock, answering the question despite you occupying his mouth, his fingers lingering over jeonghan's as he pumped his length.

he couldn't deny that how badly he wanted to fuck seokmin, but he could settle for making him cum in his hands until he was ready for something more, especially with the surprising amount he had to give after already having cum once. he let himself indulge in a single lick across seokmin's sensitive slit - though it was hard to stop there - triggering a garbled moan before he left to shower.

a week or so later, jeonghan asked you if you were interested in dating seokmin. you put your phone down and rolled over in bed, propped up on your elbows as you asked him what he meant.

"i love you," jeonghan assured, pulling you to lay closer to him. "and i can tell you like him."

you studied his face. "but i'm with you."

"that doesn't have to stop," he said, smiling at you as he tucked a hand behind his head. you eyed his arm briefly, then refocused on him. "but you know how things get in the winter, and i would be okay with you trying things out with him while i'm busy."

"you're being serious?"

jeonghan laughed at the familiar question. "yes, y/n, i'm being serious. i know you want me, but i also know you want more than me."

you had never told anyone about your desire for multiple partners, not even admitted it out loud to yourself, so his candid assessment caught you off guard. "how did you-"

"just little things you've said," he teased, leaving you to question how much you had revealed about yourself without realizing. "besides, no one can deny the chemistry."

you paused. "boundaries?"

"just tell me," he said, putting his arms around you and tugging you into him. "i just want to know when you're seeing him. and, eventually, i would like to be invited every once in a while."

"invited to dates?" you asked, throwing a leg over his lap to straddle it as you laid over him. "or invited to bed?"

he smiled up at you, hands running over your rear. "either. both. whatever you two want."

you agreed, but only after you made him promise he would tell you if anything changed for him. that he had to tell you about every doubt and worry he had. "i'll always choose you," you stated plainly, lips brushing against his as he gently rolled his growing length up against your clothed heat. "no matter what, i'll choose you."

"i know, sweetheart," he said, a hand on your cheek as he kissed you. "i promise."

after he came back from a business trip in december, you admitted to him that you and seokmin had exchanged i love yous, and he just put an arm over your shoulder and turned down the volume on the tv, telling you that he was pretty sure he loved seokmin, too.

"it was him, wasn't it?" you asked, studying his profile. "he was the guy you couldn't get over?"

jeonghan rubbed his face with one hand, sighing. "yeah, it was him."

"why didn't you say anything?"

he thought a moment. "i didn't want you to feel obligated, i guess."

your fingers straightened the seams of his long sleeved shirt across his shoulder. "obligated to win him over for you?"

"obligated to love him, too."

"jokes on you," you giggled. "he's very easy to fall in love with."

jeonghan supposed that was true, thinking of how quickly he had fallen for him, even back before he had admitted he liked men. how he had fallen into the same spot even years later, just over a shared meal and a few bottles of soju.

but you were easy to fall in love with too, he thought, remembering how he hadn't even understood his feelings towards you until you had kissed him, but he had felt them strong enough to want you to stay by his side anyways. maybe jeonghan just fell easily, but maybe he was lucky enough to have found his people at such a young age.

you settled back into the crook of his arm and asked him what he thought about seokmin coming over to join you two for christmas. while much of the world celebrated with family, it was more of a hallmark holiday in korea, often times spent with a long time sweetheart or a budding romance. or both, in your case, jeonghan supposed, when you were distracted trying to find the third christmas music lp you had specifically gotten for the occasion (out of eight, of course, because you didn't want to run out of christmas music). he was leaning against the tasteful home bar that had been hardly touched since halloween when seokmin shyly admitted that he knew jeonghan was interested in him.

he said nothing for a moment. "she told you?"

"kind of, back when you were in japan, but-" seokmin paused. "i think she was just suspicious, but i should have known. you were always too kind to me."

"not too kind," jeonghan said, hiding behind his wine as he sipped at it, trying not to show his embarrassment.

"i think i'm interested, too."

he looked at seokmin, who was staring down at his hands. "are you sure?"

"i'm-" he paused, catching jeonghan's eyes for only a second before scratching the back of his neck. "i think so. i've never even thought about doing anything with - uh - men. until you."

"that's okay," jeonghan said, looking to where you were flipping through records. "i didn't like women until y/n."

seokmin faltered. "wait, really?"

he nodded, a small smile on his face. "i thought i was gay. turns out i'm not."

"but you-" the musician stretched his jaw. "weren't you kind of a player in college?"

he almost said something about how having sex to meet an end and keep an appearance was different than enjoying it, but stopped himself when you announced that you had found the lost record, switching the lps with a flourish and setting the player again. and while he was curious about the level of seokmin's interest in him, he was happy to leave the conversation where it stood when you excitedly rejoined them at the bar.

"do you think i could be a bartender?" you asked, leaning over the counter and grabbing an unused shaker.

"probably," seokmin said.

"for sure no," jeonghan laughed.

you pouted at the latter, holding the shaker between your hands as you directed your attention to the former. "thank you, seokmin. i appreciate you encouraging my dreams."

"any time," he joked.

jeonghan rolled his eyes. "what about that music degree i'm paying for?" he asked, taking another sip.

"just because you've known what you wanted to do forever, doesn't mean everyone does. maybe i'll change my mind." you tried to spin the shaker in your hand, but the force you used was too little and it stopped on your palm too quickly, clumsily clattering to the counter. you stilled it, exhaling sharply when jeonghan giggled beside you, looking to seokmin. "he might be right."

"it's almost like i know you," jeonghan teased, nudging you. "she was convinced she could become my personal bartender for all of two weeks."

"i tried," you whined. seokmin laughed. "the tricks are harder than they look."

"and you hated shaking drinks."

you put the shaker back, defeated. "the ice made it cold."

"isn't that the point?" seokmin asked.

jeonghan smiled at you. "you're lucky i like wine."

"i'm gonna talk to you now," you announced, turning your body to seokmin. "because you're nicer to me than he is."

"aw," the architect chuckled, and seokmin watched you react to a squeeze at your butt. "did he make you soft? can't take my teasing anymore?"

you ignored him, trying to ask the man in front of you about his lessons, but you yelped when his hand firmly landed on your ass, grabbing seokmin's arm in reaction. he looked at you, seemingly just as shocked, and you tried to continue the conversation, but jeonghan's hand didn't leave, and your entire body was reacting to the way it was slowly hiking up your skirt and running between your thighs.

your eyes fell shut, and you muttered for him to cut it out as your grip on seokmin's arm tightened, but jeonghan just made eye contact with the other male, asking him instead if he should.

without thinking, seokmin shook his head and put his hands on your jaw, pulling you in to kiss him. your moan against his lips was involuntary, and jeonghan grinned as his fingers ran over your core, making you whine.

"did you tell him?" you gasped out, asking seokmin with hooded eyes. he shook his head, saying that he hadn't told him everything.

"told me what?" jeonghan asked, interest piqued as he put down his glass, pulling his hand out from your skirt and placing them on your hips instead, squeezing gently as he stood behind you, and your head fell back into his shoulder without much intention as you licked your lips. "seokmin?"

he pulled his gaze, trained on your mouth, to look at jeonghan, and he felt his breath stop in his throat as he fully processed the sight in front of him. you gasped again, as jeonghan's hand came up to knead at your breast, and you tried to pull seokmin closer, but he didn't stop moving even when he was pressed against you.

jeonghan thought he might faint. he wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but when seokmin's hand found the back of his neck and pulled him over your shoulder, his mind went blank. when his lips found his, his vision went white. when he felt his tongue against the inside of his teeth, he couldn't help but moan, one hand gripping your waist and the other aimlessly tugging on seokmin's shirt, seemingly just to hold something that belonged to him.

"fuck, okay," jeonghan breathed, staring after the musicians lips even when they left. you giggled, recognizing the feeling. "okay," he repeated. "got it. understood."

you spun around, hands on jeonghan's chest. "we prepared something for you," you said, and seokmin's cheeks and ears were bright red when he sheepishly nodded with you.

jeonghan looked between the two of you, swallowing suddenly. "what?"

you tugged on his hand, then grabbed seokmin's, too, when he didn't move right away, leading them both to walk around the couch. you pulled jeonghan onto the cushions with you, kissing him briefly before he realized someone was between his knees. when he saw him, that was when jeonghan's dick woke up, suddenly realizing what was happening.

"be nice," you muttered against the shell of his ear, your hand running down his torso. "it's his first time."

seokmin's hands were strong but gentle, and despite never having touched a dick that wasn't attached to him, he knew what felt good. he needed a bit of guidance from you to begin, less from lack of knowing the process and more because he was nervous, but quickly found a comfortable rhythm. jeonghan sighed when he finally got pulled out of his pants, and you were sucking a mark into his neck, his arm wrapped around you and his hand kneading at your rear. his eyes could hardly stay open when seokmin ran his flattened tongue up the underside of his cock.

"isn't he pretty?" you asked, whispering, a smile on your lips.

he groaned, threading his fingers behind seokmin's ear, desperately trying to hold back his release because he hasn't even put you in his mouth, yet, jeonghan, for god's sake, keep it together. the younger's eyes flickered up to his, and he nearly came just from the feeling of his soft lips around his member, sinking slowly.

"fuck, you're too good at this," jeonghan said, the half chuckle on his lips falling quickly when seokmin's tongue ran over a vein, the warmth of his mouth feeling like heaven. his teeth bit down on his lower lip, watching your hand run through seokmin's hair. he hummed at the contact, his grip tightening slightly, sending a jolt through jeonghan's system. "fuck, i'm gonna cum already."

"there were lessons," you giggled, your hands wrapping casually around his neck. his breathing hitched, eyes falling shut, focusing on the mouth sheathing his cock as he recognized your fidgeting fingers over his pulse. "merry christmas, daddy."

he inhaled sharply right before you squeezed at his throat, and he thought that he should maybe let you lead more often if it was going to feel this good. seokmin seemed surprised by the feeling of jeonghan cumming in his mouth, but he did his best to pump every drop from him, swallowing thickly. you only smiled when jeonghan sat up, leaving you behind as he pulled seokmin's face to his, his hands running up jeonghan's thighs as he kissed him.

jeonghan decided the sunroom extension was all wrong, and that he'd have to redo it.

"you just built that," wonwoo said, having been the contractor that oversaw the construction. "besides, it's snowy season, we can't do outdoor construction. you'll have to wait til spring."

"not outdoor," jeonghan said, rolling out the drafting papers he had drawn up over the course of his new year break, the final pieces being completed in the wee hours of that morning. he had sent wonwoo a text as soon as he thought he would be awake, asking for a meeting despite it only being two days after the new year. "the shell can stay the same, we just need to build indoors. besides, i need this done in february."

wonwoo blinked at him. "when in february?"

"it has to be fully furnished by the 18th."

the contractor laughed at the deadline, only a month and a half out, as he looked over jeonghan's drafts. it would be a tight schedule, considering the structural changes he wanted, but he recognized his long time work partner's determination and knew there was little he could do to argue. "okay. let's get to work."

he turned down a contract for a café to make time for the new home project, but not before recommending they contact a kim mingyu, giving him the vaguest thank you for introducing seokmin back into his life. he didn't have time to draw several attempted variations of every café he had ever designed, he was too busy mapping out the logistics of adding a lofted space to the two story sunroom. too busy planning to tear out the outer wall of your office and picking the right sliding glass doors that would lead to the loft. you had to ask him several days in a row before he finally told you what he had planned.

"a music room?"

he tried to gauge your reaction. "is it crazy?"

you broke out into a smile, studying his design, gripping the mug that held your latté that morning. "absolutely, but i love it."

he asked you to help him pick instruments, saying his wishlist included a white grand piano and three to five guitars that could be displayed together. he also told you to pick out your dream computer setup for production - you were graduating that year, afterall, and it was about time you started using something other than your laptop and a midi controller to make music - and you almost started crying from how fucking excited that made you.

hiding the plans from seokmin was the hardest part, especially when he started spending weekends at the house. he saw the construction area often, and one friday afternoon, he had even asked if he could help, leaving you to usher him away and assure him that jeonghan didn't like help when it came to these things. he believed the white lie, allowing you to distract him with the option of watching shit television in bed, even convincing him that tonight was the night to surprise his new boyfriend. seokmin laid in bed with his arms wrapped around you, trying not to move too much, fully aware that even the slightest movements in his body caused his dick to come to life, until the last of the workers left and jeonghan appeared, asking if there were dinner requests before he went to take a shower.

seokmin had been training with you for over a week. you had bought him some toys, even helped him try them out in the comfort of his loft, and he got increasingly excited - generally, but also in those moments - to show jeonghan what he had learned. the surprise he had been keeping had already made him beg you to cockwarm him as he waited, but you refused on account of knowing him, and by extension, knowing that he would not being able to stop himself. he had a bit more confidence, though it may have only been fueled by horniness, when he pulled the vaguely sweaty architect toward him on the bed. he tried to say something about how he should really wash up, but seokmin just kissed him, hands gripping around his skull in desperation, his dick already hard against jeonghan's pelvis.

jeonghan's hands wandered, as they usually did, and when he reached down to palm at seokmin's ass, he reacted in a way that earned him a questioning glance.

"we - ah-" his eyes shut, jeonghan's hands getting closer to his surprise. "she's been helping me-"

and that was when he felt it. the small, hard handle of a plug, situated between seokmin's perky asscheeks, easy to feel through the loose fabric of his shorts, and jeonghan felt his arousal tenting his pants just from the concept.

jeonghan hadn't even noticed your movement off the bed until a bottle of lube hit his leg, looking down at it briefly before looking to you.

"i'm gonna go clean up," you said, running a hand through your hair as you retreated to the bathroom, leaving jeonghan with an already flustered seokmin.

before long, he had him on his back, naked, and finally got to see how sweet his little ass looked when jeonghan pushed his knees towards his chest. when he saw the black knob fitting tightly into his hole, he groaned, his own bare cock flinching in need. he put a hand on seokmin's dick, gripping it lightly, then put a thumb against the plug.

"nngh- fuck," seokmin stammered, fingers gripping at the bedsheets as his neck stretched out against the pillows, bucking into the hand wrapped around him. "j-jeonghan…"

"this is cute," he said, slowly moving his thumb in a circular motion, the plug's movement making seokmin let out choked moans. "but i really need to play with you now."

seokmin nodded, hurriedly, brows knit together. "please."

he hooked his fingers under the knob of the plug, slowly pulling it out and relishing in the reaction. the younger's back arched in a way that jeonghan wished he could see from every angle, knowing that the way his shoulders and back looked must have been incredible, but satisfied by just watching the way his mouth hung open and his eyes clamped shut, his fingers gripping at jeonghan's hand where it stayed on his dick.

he began to pump the dick in his palm, setting aside the plug and grabbing the lube, popping it open with just his left hand and quickly squirting a healthy amount onto the tip of seokmin's penis, making quick work of spreading it completely over the engorged member, the slickness making him moan even louder and reach out for jeonghan's shoulders.

he let seokmin tug him over him, kissing him briefly before looking down at where the younger's thighs spread over his, wanting nothing more than to just fuck him already.

jeonghan's hand left seokmin's cock, leaving him whining against his lips, but it was short lived as his lubed fingers slid down to his puckered hole.

"seokmin," he muttered, studying his face. "you're sure, right?"

"fuck, i've been wanting this for since christmas, jeonghan," he sputtered out, eyes barely able to focus when there were fingers teasing his entrance. "yes, please, i'm sure."

jeonghan slid a digit into the tight hole, watching seokmin's face as his brows creased and his head fell back, a moan tumbling from his lips. another finger, jeonghan decided, and the reaction was similar, making him smirk.

"god, you're ready, aren't you?"

"please," he begged. "i want you."

jeonghan sat back, and the musician got on his elbows to watch as he readied his cock with lube, putting more on his finger and spreading it around seokmin's hole. he whined when jeonghan placed the head of his dick at his entrance, tugging him over him again.

"i'll go slow, okay?" jeonghan assured him. "tell me if i need to stop."

seokmin just nodded, eyes trained on his, and they locked lips as jeonghan pushed his hips forward slowly, the man under him immediately moaning and huffing against his mouth.

jeonghan really liked sex with seokmin. he also really liked sex with you. but he was pretty sure he liked it the most when you were both present.

seokmin didn't walk right for a day and a half, and while he was slightly embarrassed, you told him it was a badge of honor he should wear proudly. afterall, he had done the same to you on halloween.

"how's your butt?" you asked when he came down the stairs, the sunday morning after they had done the deed without you, making him choke out a laugh as you got his tea out of a cabinet in jeonghan's kitchen.

"better than yesterday," he said, gingerly seating himself at a stool. "but not as good as friday."

you eyed him. "before or during?"

seokmin thought a second. "both."

"good morning," jeonghan said, quickly planting kisses on the man and then you, cheek and lips respectively based on the convenience as he walked past you, making his way to the espresso machine. "i think i'm gonna work on the sunroom today."

"today?" you asked. "wonwoo's gonna say no."

"wonwoo isn't getting invited. i still have to find furniture," he said, rinsing out the espresso shot glass and wiping down the portafilter. "we're getting close to deadline, i need boo to order the upholstery job on tuesday and i have a meeting tomorrow."

"when's deadline?" seokmin asked, wondering why he had one for a home project.

jeonghan blinked at the wall, not even turning towards the younger. "don't worry your pretty head about it."

you pouted, closing the short distance and wrapping your arms around him, your chin on his shoulder. "it's sunday. can't we cuddled puddle?"

"you mean like we do every night?" jeonghan asked, but grinding espresso beans so you couldn't answer the rhetorical question, packing down the grounds. "if you want to cuddle puddle, don't get out of bed so early."

you huffed as you dropped your arms, leaving him to prep a glass for his americano. "whatever. seokmin and i will have fun without you."

"what kind of fun?"

you stick your tongue out at him, using a teasing voice when you said "wouldn't you like to know."

innocent fun, was the truth, but you thought it was a victimless bluff. you spent the morning sitting on the couch with seokmin while a record played, discussing everything from your favorite movies to your weirdest dreams. you had to get up every six songs or so to flip or change the record, but seokmin liked that every time you rejoined him on the couch, you got closer to his side until you were eventually snuggling into his side, arms wrapped around his torso.

the innocence stopped when jeonghan emerged from his study, joining the two of you for a break. he planted himself on the other side of seokmin, under his arm, letting his hand not-so-subtly run over his thigh. you noticed the contact, peeking around to jeonghan.

"what kind of break are you looking for, hannie?"

he adjusted. "an inspiring one."

you giggled, recognizing the euphemism he used whenever he was stuck on something for work as you leaned back again. "that means he's horny."

seokmin sputtered out a laugh, jeonghan chuckling at your direct observation. "it's hard to not think about you two sitting out here, having fun without me."

"you may not believe it," seokmin said. "but i don't think sex was even on the table for us two today."

jeonghan's eyes met his, and he swallowed harshly. "can it be on the table for all three of us?"

the comfort of returning to bed was hard to deny, especially when they had you laid out against seokmin's chest as he was pressed against the headboard, his mouth attached to your neck and his fingers twisting a nipple, all while jeonghan was digging his digits further into you with his tongue flicking against your clit.

seokmin grunted, rutting his hips against your back. "fuck, he looks good there."

you gasped, nodding, biting at your lip as he kneaded your breast, your fingers digging into jeonghan's hair. "you both do."

jeonghan never struggled to pull you apart, his deft fingers and teasing lips making you squirm and moan until you were shaking, mouth hanging open as your vision blurred and he told you you tasted like candy.

"minnie," jeonghan prompted, making the younger sit up with you whining against him to clean your taste off his fingers. his dick throbbed in need, watching the singer's agile tongue against him, wishing it wasn't just on his fingers.

seokmin had to practically beg jeonghan to fuck him again, but his only hesitation was that he may not have recovered yet. seokmin was on his back and gripped at jeonghan's thighs, urging him forward as your hand twisted around his thick, throbbing cock.

jeonghan swallowed, pausing despite being covered in lube and in position. "you're sure?"

"yes," seokmin said, gasping at your hand on him. "jeonghan, i appreciate you asking, but i'm always sure when it comes to you."

you weren't sure you had ever seen jeonghan blush like that in bed, and you smiled against seokmin's neck as he groaned, his cock firming in your grasp as the older pushed into him. you admired seokmin's silent scream, his head lolling to one side at the feeling.

"angel," jeonghan sighed, settling into the way seokmin squeezed around him. "what do you wanna do?"

you teased a thumb over seokmin's slit. "i wanna ride."

"f-fuuck-" seokmin panted, his hips resting against jeonghan's spread thighs as his knees hung to either side. "i'm not- nngh- gonna last."

"you don't have to," you said matter of factly, adjusting to straddle his torso. jeonghan winced, watching your form as he pumped into seokmin. "we're done when daddy says so."

you put your hand, palm up, over your shoulder, and jeonghan chuckled at the recognized motion for him to spit on your fingers - usually, so that you could slick his dick to sit back on it. you worked jeonghan's spit over seokmin's engorged cock, then slowly lowered yourself onto him.

seokmin stared up at you, eyes fluttering and mouth open, suddenly not only feeling impossibly full, but also absolutely stuffed into you. he moaned out loud when jeonghan bumped into his spot, overwhelmed by the simultaneous pleasure. you fell forward onto his chest, holding yourself up with shaky arms as your face hovered over his, both of you trying to hold off your own demises.

then, jeonghan pushed himself deep into seokmin, who whined, his dick pushing up against your cervix. you nearly collapsed, whimpering as your forehead fell to his, gasping into a desperate kiss. jeonghan groaned, his hand running over your hip as he looked at the intersection of you all, staring at the way you barely contained all of seokmin before he leaned forward and kissed your spine.

"you two will kill me," he said, one hand holding you firmly at your waist while the other gripped seokmin's thigh as he picked up his pace. you both moaned, fingernails digging into the plushest part of your thigh when seokmin questioned how much longer he could hold out at jeonghan's unrelenting pace.

a long, high pitched whine fell from his lips. "fuck, i need to cum," he rushed out, bleary eyes barely opening as he looked at you.

"hang on, baby," jeonghan said. "ladies first."

you babbled against seokmin's lips, somehow never being able to get used to the way he filled you, though jeonghan pushing him into you didn't help. you could do nothing but repeat curses in increasing pitch, pushing your face into seokmin's neck as your walls clamped down around him. his mouth gaped, desperately trying to not succumb to your plush insides before he got the okay.

jeonghan smiled at how seokmin tried to focus on him, despite his hands gripping you as you shook against him. "go ahead, baby."

so seokmin went. and god, he went, coating you internally, immediately squeezing out around his stuffed cock and onto his lap, making jeonghan pant as he kept his hips moving, chasing his own end. he leaned forward, chest pressing against your back as he fucked into seokmin, not stopping until his eyes were clamped shut and he was painting his walls white.

there was a long period of time where none of you moved, then another after you had all managed to untangle from each other. jeonghan sat back, leaning against a hand and scratching his brow as he breathed heavily.

"bathtub cuddle puddle?"

you laughed, chest heaving as you looked over to him, but it was seokmin who spoke. "that sounds nice."

he started to get suspicious when his birthday got closer.

jeonghan told you to suggest a dinner outing for that night to divert attention, but he had caught you moving one of the guitars for the music room only a few days before his birthday, and he looked at you with squinted eyes when he asked if it was for him and you hurriedly said no, hiding the guitar behind your back despite him clearly being able to see it.

"i panicked," you told jeonghan, eyes wide. "he saw it in me. he could tell it wasn't just the guitar."

"it'll be fine, y/n," he said, pushing around potted plants until they satisfied him. "he has to think it's weird that we haven't let him see this room yet, anyways."

you chewed your cheek, looking around the almost completed sunroom. the tall windows showed the light snowflakes falling from the sky, not quite thick enough to leave a layer but enough to make the enclosed yard look slightly pastel. despite the open space that looked out into the cold seoul winter, it stayed cozy, heat radiating from the floorboards and the faux fur rugs laid across them. the space near the entrance had a raised floor with a grand piano, along with several guitars hanging upon the wall, while the area partially covered by the balcony had two heavily cushioned, dark heather gray couches and a bright armchair, adorned with pillows and cable knit blankets.

jeonghan had a slight obsessive nature when it came to his home projects. he was meticulous with contracts, too, but he truly wanted this house to be perfect - not just for him, but for the people he loved. so you watched him rearrange pillows about four more times before you ran up the stairs to the loft to see if he had changed anything there since you had looked the day before.

it almost felt as though it was outdoors, with plants hanging off the edge of the railing and the rustic desk he had originally picked for your office placed to one side. you imagined doing schoolwork here, fantasizing slightly about watching seokmin play piano from your vantage point as you wrote essays. you slid open the glass doors to peek into your new office.

he had painted the walls white, taking a hint from the styling in your own apartment when he picked out a neutral toned couch and light wood shelving, your early graduation present of a computer set up spread across an L shaped desk. he had even paid to have your upright piano moved here, and cut into the next room over to give you more space for an electric drumset. you couldn't help but smile, imagining your friends coming over to record stuff with you. you had always felt strange about inviting them to your rich boyfriend's house, despite him insisting they were welcome, but he had really gone through the trouble of making a room so perfect for all of them that you had no choice.

and it was brighter, you thought. you had told him you worked better in bright spaces.

despite jeonghan's promises, the music room renovation felt like it was as much a gift for you as it was for seokmin. though, maybe he couldn't help it, when the reasons he loved you both overlapped so much.

you went to seokmin's apartment the next day with a bagged gift for him, arriving again right as his client was leaving, and you smiled at the same young man you had seen the first time you had come to visit seokmin. you knew his name now, not because you had spoken to him much, but because you had been told about him by his teacher, and you congratulated him on getting a gig the upcoming weekend.

"oh," jisung said, glancing between the two of you. "he talks about me?"

you laughed and gave him a fighting, seokmin looking upwards to hide his embarrassment as he ushered his student toward the door. "have a nice week, jisung! i'll try to be there this weekend," he said, throwing you a look as you giggled.

"it's not for guitar, you don't have to come," the younger assured. "but if you want to, bring your girlfriend!"

"yeah!" you said, putting your fists on your hips. "i'm getting you dinner for your birthday tonight, the least you can do is take me to an underground rap show!"

"okay, both of you, no more talking," seokmin said, trying and failing to prevent jisung from stopping in his tracks at the news that it was his birthday.

"woah, teach, happy birthday!" he laughed. "you weren't gonna say anything?" he kept talking even as his teacher pushed him out of his apartment.

you couldn't stop grinning when the door closed, seokmin turning to you. he pointed at you, trying to hide his smile as he could only get out a vaguely annoyed "you."

"happy birthday, baby," you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. he softened against you, smiling as you pulled away, his hands on your waist as he thanked you quietly.

"he asks about you a lot," seokmin said, joining you when you laughed at the fact. "i think he has a crush on you."

you rolled your eyes. "stop bragging about me, then."

"i don't brag," he said, smiling into another kiss. "i just tell the truth. i can't help that you're a dream come true."

you only pulled away from him to grab the two thick paper bags that you had set on his couch. "c'mon, we gotta head out. open your presents."

seokmin's mouth dropped open when he saw the logo on the bag. "wait, you didn't."

"i had to," you said, giggling as he grabbed one and tugged it open, moving to the couch to pull the garment out. "you said you wanted it."

"where did you find one?" he asked, staring at the corduroy parka from the brand you saw him wear constantly. "they've been sold out for weeks!"

"i got it before then, duh." you poked his cheek when he pouted at you, his eyebrows knit. "there's more, stop getting distracted."

seokmin hugged you extra tight as a thank you for his romantic crown haul, and he decisively pulled on the golden yellow shirt with the pizza on the back, making you grin at how perfectly jeonghan had predicted his thought process before you dragged him out of his apartment to go get dinner.

"we're just picking it up," you said, jangling a keychain. he gave you a quirked eyebrow, and you giggled, pulling him over to jeonghan's car. "do you wanna see it self drive?"

you pushed the side door closed with your butt and called out to jeonghan, saying the birthday boy was here. seokmin took the pizza boxes from your arms and put them on the kitchen counter as jeonghan walked around the stairs.

"well one of us has to change," jeonghan said facetiously, and seokmin looked down at the yellow shirt peeking through his half zipped parka, looking back up at jeonghan, who was wearing the same shirt.

"wait wait wait," you giggled, turning around to undo the zipper of your own jacket, pulling it open as you spun around to reveal that you, too, were wearing the shirt.

seokmin looked between you two with wide eyes, his eyebrows creasing. "you got us matching shirts?"

"pizza shirt gang!" you giggled, stripping off your jacket. "do you like them?"

he smiled into a disbelieving laugh. "how did you know i would put it on?"

"because we know you, minnie," jeonghan said, reaching for his hand after he took off his new coat. "before we eat, i finished the sunroom today, wanna see it?"

"hang on," seokmin stopped, making his hand fall from jeonghan's. "that's not the gift, right?" he looked at you. "the sunroom isn't the gift?"

you pursed your lips, looking at the ceiling, and seokmin started to argue, making jeonghan laughed. "who cares if it's for you, i just want you to come look at it."

jeonghan is pretty sure he always loved seokmin. it wasn't something he would ever be able to change about himself, he figured, as he watched his lover cover his face with his hands, sinking to crouch on the floor as his eyes looked around the large room that was lit by fairy light. the first thing he had seen was the piano, which made him gasp, then he saw the guitars, and looked at your smiling face, suddenly connecting dots, unable to stay standing from the shock as he understood why he hadn't been allowed to help.

and then he started crying.

the two of you ushered him to a couch, sitting him down as he sniffed back the tears. you sat beside him, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and cooing, jeonghan crouching on the floor in front of him.

"i'm sorry," jeonghan said, smiling slightly as he gave him an apologetic look. "i didn't mean to overwhelm you."

seokmin choked on a laugh, wiping at his cheeks. "how did you think i'd react?"

"i don't think he thought about it," you whispered, knowing full well jeonghan could hear you.

"i got a little carried away," he admitted, hand rubbing comforting circles on seokmin's leg. "you're special to me, so i wanted to make something special for you."

"this," seokmin said, looking around, gesturing at his surroundings. "this?"

the older huffed out a laugh, almost embarrassed. "yeah, this."

seokmin laughed too, eyes wet as he looked into the other's. "i can't believe you would make something this incredible for me."

"you're incredible," jeonghan said. "i want you to feel welcome in my home."

"i couldn't believe the record wall, either," you offered when seokmin seemed speechless, pressing your cheek against the his shoulder, hand rubbing his back. "jeonghan's love language is a little unique."

seokmin sniffed one more time, studying jeonghan's face, his brow creasing ever so slightly. "holy shit, i'm in love with you."

your heart stopped as you pulled away slightly to look at him, then jeonghan, who was frozen.

"i didn't realize that's what this was," seokmin said, hand gripping the one on his thigh. "i knew i liked you, but this is-"

jeonghan rose quickly, seating himself at seokmin's other side and kissed him. "i love you," he said, thumbs wiping over his slightly damp cheekbones. "it's taken me years to admit it, but i love you."

seokmin kissed him again in response, his face feeling hot from the continued attention. he broke away, only to look around the room again, jeonghan studying his face with a smile as he did.

"i think," seokmin said, clearing his throat when the words came out weak. he looked to you, then to jeonghan. "i think this is the best birthday i've ever had."

jeonghan laughed. "we haven't even had the pizza yet."

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heyitsani · 3 years

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WIP Wednesday

Today’s snippet is brought to you by Dick Grayson Week! The prompt for this day is “Bruce hits DIck and doesn’t get away with it”. Most of my fics for DG Week are going to be on the shorter side because my JD Week fics are all on the longer side. It’s called balance haha.

Anyway, completely unedited as always. This is the immediate aftermath of the act so it’s not spoilery since it is literally the prompt.

Enjoy!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Cave went deathly silent in the aftermath.

For those 30 or so seconds immediately after the distinct sound of a fist hitting a cheekbone, it was like they had landed in a vacuum of sound.

It was such a startling contrast to the shouting that had led up to that exact moment. The fight between Dick and Bruce hadn’t been surprising. When Red Robin had called Nightwing on his private comm line to report that Robin had been shot on patrol, he had known the eldest would panic. And when he found out it was because Batman had made a mistake, Tim knew shit would hit the fan.

Quite literally.

But Tim hadn’t anticipated Bruce taking a swing at Dick when the latter had accused Bruce of purposefully using Damian as a shield so he could go after Two Face himself. It wasn’t even one of the worst things he had heard Dick tell Bruce in the heat of an argument, but something about it had pushed Bruce over an edge none of them had realized he could go over. Sure, Bruce could be a hard ass, but Tim had never seen him get to this point. And a quick glance at Jason, who was coiled tight with his hands clenched tightly at his side, revealed that Tim wasn’t the only one caught off guard.

He expected Dick to swing back, to say something in retaliation, but instead he watched his brother straightened and wipe at the blood now dripping from his nose. From this angle Tim could see the angry mark Bruce’s gauntlet had left on Dick’s cheekbone and it made him wonder if there was anything broken beneath the surface.

“That’s your one free hit, Bruce. I’m not the kid you used to push around to win arguments anymore. Nor am I emotionally compromised to the point that you can manipulate me into getting your way,” Dick spoke lowly, voice dangerous and anger simmering just below the surface. It was rare to hear that particular tone come from Dick, but it never failed to send a shiver down his spine. For all the sunshine Dick projected, most weren’t aware of the precision of the weapon he could be. “I told you if you couldn’t protect him that I would. He’s still legally mine.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I’m stating facts. I may have been disposable to you over the years, but you are out of your fucking mind if you think I’ll let you hurt him the same way.” Movement out of the corner of his eye pulled Tim’s surprised attention from the pair, finding Jason stalking forward. And Tim knew that walk, he knew that look.

Jason was pissed and that didn’t bode well for one or both of them.

“What the fuck did you mean by that?” Jason demanded, grabbing Dick’s shoulder to turn him to face him instead of Bruce. But Dick didn’t respond, and Tim could see his jaw clench from here. In fact, at this angle he could get a much better look at the damage Bruce had done and it was definitely looking like Dick’s cheek was starting to swell.

#wip wednesday #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #bruce wayn is not nice in this one #it's a batbros story of solidarity #dickgraysonweek spoilers #anikah writes

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seaside-stories · 3 years

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The Swear Jar

Ok so I wrote some fanfic for yall :) its MCU fanfic, in an AU (idk which just go with it my dudes). I hope yall like it :D Here is a link to the fic on AO3. Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Wanda Maximoff, Vision, Sam Wilson, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov | Word Count: ~1900

This story begins on one fine Sunday when Mr. Steve Rogers purchased a rather large jar. He bought a package of labels and a large sharpie as well. When he got back to the Avengers Tower, he took a label, wrote “SWEAR JAR” on it, and stuck it to the side of the jar. Then, he put it on a side table for everyone to see.

“Rogers, what the fuck is that?” Tony had asked when he saw it.

“A swear jar,” Steve explained simply. “Which you should put a dollar in, by the way.” Tony sighed dramatically. He then took out his wallet, removed a single, and leaned over Steve to get to the Swear Jar.

“Fine. Here you go. One dollar.” Tony said.

Now, whenever a resident of the Avengers Tower heard the call of “Language!” from Steve, a few moments later they also heard the clink of the glass jar. Peter Parker, who was a spectator of these rather funny events, noted that Clint and Tony were the ones called out most often.

But, alas, most adults do swear, and everyone eventually put at least a dollar in the Swear Jar. Even Peter had added a dollar or two to the Jar. But it was truly self-imposed. He hardly ever swore around adults, and if he did, it was a “Damn!” or the occasional “Shit!” that had slipped out by accident. But, since the appearance of the Swear Jar, that hardly happened anymore.

This went on for about a month before The Incident, as Peter called it.

Peter had been working in the lab with Tony. They were working on their own projects but they enjoyed each other’s company, so they worked in the same lab. They had been working for a while when Tony leaned back in his chair and sighed.

“You want something to drink, kid?” Tony asked.

“Sure,” Peter said. “How about a coke?”

“Sure thing,” Tony said and promptly left.

Peter was unfazed by Tony’s abrupt exit and went back to working on his project. A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

“Tony?” Peter looked up. It was Steve. “Oh, hi, Steve,” Peter greeted him. “What’s up?”

“Is Tony here?” Steve asked. Peter shook his head.

“No, he just left. You can stay, if you want to, though.” Peter indicated to an area next to him where Steve could sit.

Steve sat, and Peter went back to his work. They sat there in silence for longer than Peter would have expected. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Steve flipping through papers and poking various parts and tools. Peter didn’t mind, but he wondered if Tony would. When will he be back? Peter thought.

Then, all of a sudden, Peter was ripped from his thoughts by a sharp yell.

“Fuck!”

Steve was sucking on his finger. He took it out of his mouth to look at it.

“Fuck, that hurt,” he said, quieter this time.

Peter realized in that moment that he had a decision to make:

Confront Steve now, make him deposit a few dollars to the Swear Jar, and tell everyone

Don’t say anything and use this as blackmail

Peter went with option number 2.

“What happened? Are you okay?” he asked Steve. Steve looked at him and they made eye contact for just a moment.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just got a paper cut.”

“Oh, that sucks. Do you want a Band-Aid?”

“Sure.”

There is actually another Incident that Peter would rather not talk about. In his mind, this is dubbed The Moment.

Peter and Steve had been helping some SHIELD agents move some things from one side of a building to the other side. One of those things just so happened to be a fridge. The agents expressed that they would feel a lot better if Peter and Steve carried it together, even though either one of them could hold it by himself.

They were squeezing through one of the narrower doorways when Peter caught his hand between the fridge and the doorway.

“Fuck,” he swore quietly. Peter let go of the fridge with that hand and shook it out.

Before Peter could grab onto the fridge again, he made eye contact with Steve. Just for a moment. And when Steve didn’t call him out, he realized Steve had made the same decision he had made.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Steve asked.

“I caught my hand between the fridge and the door,” Peter explained.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No, thanks. I’m fine.”

This arrangement continued for around a month and a half, where Steve and Peter felt comfortable swearing when they were alone together, but kept the secret when they were around others.

The only thing that threatened this secret, was Bucky Barnes.

Bucky Barnes had been on a mission in California for the past two months and was finally allowed to come back to New York. When he walked into the common room in the Avengers Tower, one of the first things he spotted was the Swear Jar. Peter watched him eye it for a few minutes. Finally, Bucky caved.

“Steve?” he called.

“Yeah, Buck?” Steve called back.

“What’s this?” Bucky asked, his voice sounding like a parent that had just discovered an impromptu mural.

“...It’s the Swear Jar. See? It’s got a little label on it,” Steve explained, indicating the label on the front.

“Ah, I see,” Bucky nodded condescendingly. Peter watched him from across the room and came to a realization: Bucky knew that Steve had the dirtiest mouth out of all of the Avengers, but he decided to use it as blackmail, just as Peter had.

About a week later, Peter decided to organize another video for the Avengers YouTube channel that he ran, called Miscellaneous Inc.

The video begins with this opening card:

It’s animated. The sparkles come and leave out of sync.

[cut]

Some of the Avengers are sitting in a circle. They each have a whiteboard. Someone speaks:

“I swear to god, Clint, nobody’s forcing you to do this!”

[cut]

Peter Parker is sitting on his bed, criss cross applesauce. He waves at the camera.

“Hey, YouTube,” He greets the audience. “It’s me, Peter, saying hello to you on this fine Wednesday afternoon. Today, I have somehow convinced a whole bunch of the Avengers to play ‘Who’s More Likely To’ with me! I honestly don’t know how I convinced them to do it, but I did. Anyway, I asked you guys to ask some ‘Who’s More Likely To’ questions on Twitter, and I went through them! FRIDAY’s gonna read them out, though, so if you put emojis it might sound a little weird.”

[cut]

Peter, Tony, Steve, Bucky, Clint, Natasha, Sam, Wanda, and Vision are sitting in a circle, each equipped with a handheld whiteboard and a pen.

“Hi, camera!” Peter waves to the camera, mostly to make sure everyone else is aware of it. “You may notice that we are a few Avengers short. I promise, they are not dead. These are the only people I could convince to play with me. So far, that is. Should everyone introduce themself?” Peter asked and looked around the circle. Nobody really gave a definite reaction.

“We’ve all been on your channel before, yes?” Wanda asked.

“I guess…” Peter said.

The video froze and became a bit dimmer. Suddenly, names and arrows appeared on the screen, going around the circle, each appearance being noted by a small ding.

← Tony Stank (Iron Man)

← Peter Parker (me :D)

← Steve Rogers (Cap)

← Bucky Barnes (the coolest)

← Clint Barton (Hawkeye)

← Natasha Romanov (Black Widow)

← Sam Wilson (Falcon)

← Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

← Vision (Vision)

“Peter,” Peter said to the camera. “Do something cool during editing. A message came up on the screen: “I got you ;)”

[cut]

“Okay.” Peter clapped his hands. “Let’s get started. To reiterate, this is the ‘Who’s More Likely To’ Challenge. How you play is basically, a question is asked, like, ‘who’s more likely to land an arrow in the bullseye on the first try’. Then you write down who you think would be more likely to do that and then we all compare our answers. Does that make sense?”

Everyone nodded their heads.

“Great. FRIDAY, please read the first question.”

“Who’s more likely to say something they’re not supposed to in front of the press?” FRIDAY’s disembodied voice said.

Everyone wrote on their whiteboards for a few moments.

“Okay, let’s see your answers,” Peter said and turned around his board. Everyone followed suit. There were quite a few answers. The two most popular were “me” (“That’s not an answer, you guys,”) and Peter.

“Next question!” Instructed Peter.

“Who’s more likely to break something and leave it for the next person to fix?”

The most popular answer for that one was Tony.

Who’s more likely to accidentally knock someone out?

Steve.

Who’s more likely to keep saying “one more try” on a trick shot?

Sam.

Who’s more likely to have a weird secret habit?

Clint.

Who’s more likely to tip off a metal detector by accident?

Answers evenly split between Natasha and Bucky.

Who’s more likely to swear the most?

Peter had been waiting for this one. He curated the questions so he knew this one would show up eventually. He saw Steve and Bucky make eye contact. He watched as Bucky turned toward him and looked him straight in the eye. It was as if he was saying, “Now is the time to break our silence.”

“Turn your boards!” Peter instructed. They all did. Apart from Peter and Bucky, the most common answers were Tony and Clint.

“Steve?” Tony asked. “Peter, did you hear the question? They said the dirtiest mouth.”

“Yeah, I know. Bucky, you can back me up, right?” Peter looked to Bucky for someone to back him up.

“I only have my word, kid,” Bucky said solemnly.

Then Peter remembered.

“Hold on, actually. I have something. FRIDAY, show me that day Steve and I were in the lab together!”

FRIDAY rolled the clip. Then, everyone was able to see the true Steve Rogers. They were all shocked, to say the least. Steve sat there with a dumbstruck expression, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

“So what do you have to say for yourself, Capsicle?” Tony asked him.

“Uh...I’m sorry?” Steve tried.

“You’re damn right you’re sorry!” Clint yelled playfully. “I’ve lost at least $100 to that damn Swear Jar! Speaking of which, what do you do with all the money?”

Steve stalled for as long as possible, but it was inevitable. He would have to tell them.

“I spent it on art supplies and ice cream.”

“You did what?!”

[cut]

Peter was back on his bed. He waved to the camera again.

“Thank you guys so much for watching! I can try and convince them to do this again sometime if you’d like! See you next time!

The video ended. Peter turned off the camera.

“Steve is going to kill me…”

#tw language #marvel fic #fanfic

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ourstarscollided · 3 years

Text

jatp fanworks appreciation - day 3 (wips)

wip wednesday - I didn’t think I wanted to join in on this day for my own stuff considering I’ve never posted anything original for this fandom, but I think this might just be the little boost I need from myself to actually finish the wips that I have sitting around. I am peer pressuring myself and holding myself accountable by posting this - or at least that’s what I’m telling myself. Most of the past 6 mths has just been me screaming to no one in a Google Doc, so here are some things I’ve been ruminating about over the last 6 months (and if my secret agenda is to get other people to write about it so I don’t have to? Then that’s between you and me).

Everything’s under a read more because I like giving context and that usually spirals out of control!?!?

If you would like to see more from any of the below, feel free to shoot me an ask/message and I can definitely share some more! (Or you can just come yell at me about JATP in general.)

Strangers Fake Dating AU // Julie x Luke

I’m a simple person. I see a prompt, I latch onto it, and then I completely miss the entire point of the prompt as my imagination goes wild for no real reason. This really was supposed to be a super short drabble, but it manifested into a 3k+ thing that isn’t even finished.

Julie’s not really sure what she’s supposed to do now. Nothing has ever prepared her for a situation in which she’s supposed to pretend to be a stranger’s girlfriend, especially if that situation involves parents. Does she continue this ruse? Can she come up with a quick enough excuse to tell this Luke character that she actually can’t stay? What if this is just all an elaborate plan to kidnap her? Has she been listening to too many true crime podcasts? Why does Luke smell so good? Does he know how to cook? Why does his shirt not have sleeves? What-

“I can hear you thinking from here.” Her head whips up at the sound of Luke’s voice, which is now at a whisper and kind of frantic. “I just- I just really needed to get my mom off my back, so I kinda need you to pretend to be my girlfriend. Just for the night. I swear I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

Julie studies Luke’s face and it’s nearly impossible to not cave under his gaze, which can only be simply described as ‘puppy dog eyes’. She finds herself smiling back, letting out a huff, “I hope you like lasagna.” And the grin that spreads across the boy’s face is enough for her to know that he’s incredibly relieved that she agreed.

“I’m Luke by the way. Luke Patterson.”

(Okay, he’s kinda cute. And no one this cute is a serial killer. Right?)

She gives a small smile back, “I’m Julie.”

5+1 alive!Juke AU // Julie x Luke

Inspired by paper - LANY

This is one of the first things I ever felt the urge to write down back in September because I love exploring the idea of how two people can appear to be the perfect relationship on the outside, but are actually fighting their own demons. Especially when it comes to celebrities and people who are in the spotlight. It’s basically a 5+1 fic about the moments from other people’s perspectives who happen to orbit around Julie/Luke that all revolve around paper. My outline for this is so long because I can’t manage to narrow it down, and there’s zero cohesiveness but I do have little things jotted down.

“Hey little man,” Luke’s knelt down to match his 5 year-old height, and a hand extends out to him for a high five, “What are you doing here?”

His eyes flicker to the left, towards his own apartment door, where his mom is giving him an encouraging nod. “ I- I just wanted to-” he stutters and finds himself looking at his feet as he shuffles back and forth on the spot. “I- I drew you guys something!”

He shoves the paper out towards the older boy in front of him, but doesn’t look up.

Reincarnation AU // Julie x Luke

I had a random thought in December about how magical it is that Julie and Luke are so tied to one another that their love transcends time and space, which will always lead them back to one another. I remember reading a book a long time ago about how the main character is fated to die at a certain age, and that kind of sparked this little idea. I can’t bring myself to actually plot out every single timeline right now, but I did manage to write a little bit.

It will never be as complex as Rosie’s idea and all the wonderful additions in the link here, and I don’t really plan on it being anything more than a small idea. But I really do still think someone should write some sort of reincarnation AU cause I’d hop on that so fast!!

“Okay- that’s not- Luke. You seriously just ran away?”

“What was I supposed to do Alex? We all know how this ends.”

His friend looks at him, face painted in understanding and he sighs, “Yeah. Yeah, we do.”

Because it’s true, Alex does know, so does Reggie and Bobby. Most importantly, so does Luke. It’s the exact same tragic love story every time.

Call it a curse or fate or destiny. Maybe it’s because Mercury is in retrograde. Whatever. It always ends the same way - with a heartbreaking goodbye, a whisper of the promise that they’ll find each other again, and the possibility of a happy ending. He’s said the same goodbye at least 734 times, but it’s not like he’s counting or anything. Fuck the universe and its mystical ways.

Competitive Alex // Alex x Willie

No real thoughts or reasons for this other than I just think I self-projected my need to play board games with people in real life into a fic. And maybe a little bit of my competitiveness onto Alex and then threw in Willie because I think he would be able to handle it while also finding it endearing. I also have written nothing about the actual competitiveness, it’s just 2k words of Alex crushing on Willie.

“Wait,” his eyes dart between the three boys, “You both know Willie? How come I’ve never met him?”

His roommates look at each other, and there’s a smirk on Luke’s face when he says, “Actually Alex, I think you have. Remember that time you got really drunk after one of our shows?”

Oh no. He really hopes that it’s not the time he’s thinking of, so he tries to sound nonchalant. “You’re going to have to be more specific, Luke.”

“The night we played at that tiny bar at the edge of the campus! We got paid in those tiny colourful shots?” He doesn’t really know where Luke is going with this, so he’s slowly nodding along. “And you were super upset that the hot dog vendor at the end of the street was closed?”

Dear Julie, Love Mom series

I made myself sad with this thought when I first watched the show and was talking to my friend about how I think that Rose would’ve left messages for the Molina family, especially when we found out that Wake Up was actually from her mom. I wrote a bigger explanation for it here.

Anyways, I started with the one for Julie’s wedding and it kind of became an 8k monster with three different POVs?!? As much as I love how I wrote this, I feel too unsure about my writing to share it in full, so you will get carefully selected looks alkfe. (I’m also kind of stuck on some of the more emotional scenes and I may or may not have procrastinated by photoshopping a moodboard for it.)

Excerpt 1 (Julie POV): A look into where I’m going with this whole letters from Rose thing.

The key clicks into place, and with a turn, the latch falls open. She’s not sure what she wants to find in the box, and she’s too scared to think about it really. All she knows is that this was the sign from her mom that she was waiting for all week, and in true Rose fashion, her mom had managed to give it to her, even if at the last second. Her dad turns the box to face Julie, and gestures to her to open up the lid.

Tucked inside is a VHS tape, the words ‘For Julie, on your wedding day’ written in her mom’s cursive on the cover. Some loose glitter and confetti fall back into the box as she reaches in to pick up the tape and turn it over in her hands. There’s a little purple butterfly etched on the back, the same one that’s been drawn on all the other messages that her mom had left her. Her finger automatically finds its way, tracing the shape of the small doodle.

“Do you want me to leave you alone, mija?”

Excerpt 2 (Julie POV): This part has absolutely nothing to do with the main plot of the story, but it self-inserted itself into this fic after @tangledstarlight and I talked about You’re Still the One by Shania Twain being their first dance. This whole scene came to me at 4am one night and might be the most self-indulgent thing I’ve ever written.

They knew that when they had asked Reggie to be in charge of the first dance performance, that they (and Alex) weren’t allowed to veto any of his ideas. Luke had warned Julie that that would be a mistake, but the giddiness that radiated off of Reggie when she had told him he could have free reign was worth it. She just hadn’t thought that he would actually take it to heart and run with it.

Sure, they had chosen You’re Still the One by Shania Twain as their first dance song, and sure it was more or less a country song, but she didn’t really imagine that she’d be staring at her adoptive brother, Carlos and her Dad wearing cowboy hats and boots at her wedding. They had somehow managed to ditch their Flynn-approved suit jackets and were sporting a taupe-coloured suede-textured vest over their dress shirts. If she looked closely, she could see that they had somehow also found some gaudy looking bolo ties with a matching set of ornamental clasps to wear. When she envisioned her wedding, she really didn’t expect that her first (public) dance as a married couple would be a full-on Western themed occasion. The only exception was Alex, who had settled on his cajon in the back, still in his pink suit, eyes rolling when she met his gaze. But even she knew how there was no real annoyance in the blonde’s reaction or else he wouldn’t also be wearing one of the tacky ties around his neck as well.

“I’m gonna seriously kill him.” She hears Luke grumble under his breath, only low enough for her to hear. But she’s still too busy giggling to actually be mad, and she knows that Luke isn’t really going to kill Reggie. At least she doesn’t think so.

Excerpt 3 (Luke POV): Idk man. My mind went “What about Luke?” and I said “You’re right!! What about him?!?”

He doesn’t realize that he’s just been silently staring at the woman in front of him, until a gentle voice breaks him out of his thoughts. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Julie’s peering at him from under her eyelashes, a curious look on her face.

“You just-” he gives a little shake of his head, trying to come up with the right words. He wants to tell her she’s beautiful. Stunning. A wicked beauty. But she’s more than that - she’s almost angelic. “I can’t believe you’re my wife.”

“Luke, we’ve been legally married for like, a whole year.” Her lips are quirked up in a grin, amusement in her voice. “You’ve only just realized that now?”

“That’s different.”

“Yeah? Different how?”

This feels a little strange to post and a little like my inner self seeking validation but let’s not talk about that.

Kskssj anyways present me @ future me: finish one of these because writing has been really cathartic for you and you didn’t think it would bring you so much joy!!!

#gotta tag this so that it doesnt ever show up in any tags on tumblr.#i like that what got me to post about my writing was a fanworks appreciation week. but i will say that a couple weeks ago when i was feeling #extra good about my writing. i made a promise to myself to post smthg for the 6 mth mark of jatp and that kinda got backtracked because of #my requirements to be an adult and my general insecurities about putting out content that is mine for the works to judge sjsjsj #so this is me making it up to myself by sharing some things.#thank you rosie for indulging me in my ramblings. you’ve really given me confidence in my work even tho you’ve never read anything of mine.#just know I APPRECIATE YOU A LOT!!!!#i hope you dont mind that i tagged you!!!#anyways this is gonna get thrown into my queue for wednesday and whenever it posts is whenever it will post.#i also typed this on my phone (i DO NOT RECOMMEND IT) so sorry if the formatting is janky. i didnt wanna give myself time to second guess #myself and end up not posting it. sjjs #jatp fanworks appreciation week #sometimes i write #personal #<- need to come up with tags for myself welp #sunset queue

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anylessreal · 3 years

Note

Will you share a little snippet of the fic? If that's okay? :') I miss that universe' s Harry and Louis so much

There’s not much fluff or fun stuff in any of part 4 so far, but I wrote this bit over the weekend and it’s not too spoiler-y or angsty. Enjoy some proof that I’ve actually written something in the last year! 💕

He finds Louis lying on his bed in the dark, stretched out on his side, scrolling aimlessly through his phone. He glances up from it when the light from the living room spreads across his face, and it’s a miracle he shuts his screen off and sits up, opting to give Harry his attention instead of disregarding him completely.

“Hi,” Harry says, a bit timid as he approaches the foot of the bed and knees his way onto the end of the mattress, legs folding beneath him.

“Is everything alright?” Louis asks, pushing his flattened hair out of his face.

“He’s fine,” Harry tells him quietly. “Just needed to talk to a friend, is all.”

“Then it’s a good thing he called the one person who doesn’t want to talk to him,” Louis notes.

“Right,” Harry huffs, “fuck me for wanting to spend the time I have with my boyfriend actually with my boyfriend.”

That seems to do the trick, Louis’ hardened exterior fading as his shoulders cave, the darkness behind his eyes turning soft again.

“I hate this,” he says with a small shake of his head. “I hate this, and I hate how empty my flat looks without your stuff, and I’m tired, and I had a long first day back at work, and I’ll admit that I’m jealous, and I’m mad that I can’t kiss you, and I haven’t had sex in over a week, and it’s making me cranky, and absolutely none of these excuses mean much of anything, but I hate this.”

Harry rolls back onto his hands and knees. “Lie down.”

“What are you going to do to me?” Louis asks, almost more hesitant than suspicious. Still, he unhooks his arms from around his knees and slowly lowers back into his elbows.

“Platonic back massage,” Harry says, motioning for him to flip onto his stomach. “So you can be less cranky.”

Louis glares at him before obliging, flattening himself to the duvet and turning over until his face is pressed sideways into his pillow again. Harry crawls over him, one knee falling on either side of Louis’ hips as he settles on top of his arse. He slips his fingers beneath the hem of Louis’ t-shirt and rucks it all the way up to his armpits, nails grazing over his warm, summer-tanned skin.

Louis clears his throat. “Yeah, so did I mention I haven’t had sex in over a week?”

“I said it was a platonic massage,” Harry mumbles, spreading his hands across Louis’ lower back.

“Call it whatever you want,” Louis says into his pillow. “You’re still pressed snug against my arse like you’ve been up there before, and your fingers…”

“Are my fingers,” Harry shrugs, pressing them into the soft parts of Louis’ hips, just above the waistline of his shorts. “It’s not my fault you can’t keep your head out of the gutter.”

“It’s your fault I know what those fingers can do.”

“Anyway,” Harry sighs, rolling circles with his thumbs. “Just because I didn’t want to answer the phone, doesn’t mean I’m not a thousand times relieved that Travis is even capable of calling me. My relationship with him is complicated, Louis. You know it is. He says he doesn’t want space, and I know he misses me, and I know hearing my voice gives him some semblance of stability, but I’m not the person he needs right now. You are. He can’t depend on me forever.”

“Believe me when I say I know,” Louis mumbles before stifling a groan as best as he can as Harry presses deep into his muscles.

“Is that what you’re jealous of?” Harry checks. “Not that you have to share me with Travis, but that you have to share Travis with me?”

Louis shuts his eyes and turns his face into his pillow like he doesn’t want Harry to see him. “You broke his heart,” he says, “and all he wants to talk about is you, all he can think about is you, and the only person he wants to call is you. And you don’t even want to answer the phone. I’m his best friend, and it’s just like… he has no idea how much I missed him.”

“It’s been a week,” Harry says softly, running a fingernail up Louis’ spine and watching his skin prickle with goosebumps. “He’ll get tired of me soon enough, and then you can have him all to yourself, and maybe, if he likes you enough, he won’t punch you in the face for seducing the boy he loved.”

“You think I seduced you?”

Harry just lets out a quiet hum as he pushes Louis’ shirt all the way up to the back of his neck so he can get at his shoulders. He kneads away in silence for a while, working his thumbs into the tense knots, listening to the content hitches in Louis’ breath whenever he gets the pressure just right. He doesn’t know what he’d been expecting when he’d hung up the phone and made his way into the bedroom, had almost been bracing for another fight, but with Louis pliant and reserved, melting to liquid beneath the palms of his hands, some of the weight he’d been carrying around falls from his heart.

“On Wednesday,” he says, shifting against Louis’ arse and squeezing at his tender shoulders, “when Travis comes back to London, I’ll stay home and you can see him first, just the two of you. I’ll stay out of your way and I’ll try to give him room to breathe without me.”

“He’s not going to like that,” Louis says.

“He’s not going to like a lot of things,” Harry points out, “but I don’t want to string him along and I don’t want you snapping at me over his phone calls, so it’s all I can do right now.”

He keeps massaging deep circles into Louis’ muscles as they both fall into a comfortable silence again. If he calls it platonic, he doesn’t have to feel any guilt for wanting to run his hands over Louis’ bare skin. If he calls it platonic, it’s okay to touch, to let his thumbs slip just beneath the tops of Louis’ shorts, to feel those tiny sparks of pleasure when soft moans and whimpers fall from Louis’ lips, barely muffled by his pillow.

If he calls it platonic, he doesn’t have to stop when he feels Louis start to squirm a bit beneath him, hips shifting with the smallest movements, restless attempts to gain some friction.

He doesn’t have to, but he still does.

“I think that’s my cue to say goodnight,” he decides, hands slowing to a stop at the small of Louis’ back.

“Unless you’re ready to give me a platonic blowjob,” Louis mumbles, voice a little strained as he pushes up onto his elbows but makes no attempt to roll Harry off of him, “I think you’re going to have to.”

“I’ll see myself out?” Harry raises an eyebrow as he swings his knee back around to one side of the bed.

Louis still doesn’t move. “Probably for the best.”

“Do you need anything?” Harry half-teases. “Lube? Glass of water? Some snacks?”

“Harry, I swear to god.”

Harry goes to collect the smaller box in front of Louis’ closet. “‘Night, baby.”

“Text me when you get home,” Louis sighs into his pillow. He opens his mouth like he wants to say a bit more, and Harry knows, and Harry feels it like a tight grip on his heart every time he so much as looks at Louis, but it’s still a relief when Louis thinks better of it and presses his lips together again.

He shuts the door behind him, hears Louis let out a quiet snort at the attempt to create some privacy, and goes to call a cab.

#sorry if this clogs any dashes #anonymous #damn i always hit enter before i'm ready to post #and then it posts it #anyway #twist and then collide #spoilers #for reference this is about 40k into part 4

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steppedoffaflight · 4 years

Text

Summer’s a Knife - Chapter 8

Catch up on Chapter 7 here

The summer tour to promote the album is ready to kick off, and the band is due back in America with a show in Arizona on Tuesday. And while Van has informed you that the other boys will be flying directly from their respective U.K. homes to Phoenix, Van has decided that he would like to fly in to California before road tripping to the venue. In his Range Rover. With you.

Word count: ~11.2k

A/N: I feel like I got more messages this week than ever about how many people love this fic, and it really meant so much to me. I hadn’t realized so many people were following along with Van and Y/N’s journey and it just makes me so excited to put each new chapter out into the world. For everyone who told me how they’re always excited for Wednesdays, know that I am too! This is one of the chapters that really sticks out to me as a favorite, so I hope you love it. Thank you so much for reading. Anyway, I’m done being mushy. Enjoy!

Chapter Eight June 2019

“Shut up,” You say around a mouthful of popcorn.

“I’m being serious!”

“You’re not,” You insist despite Van’s arguing, chomping away.

“I am!” His voice rings out on speakerphone from where you’ve got the phone set on the kitchen table.

You open up a new tab on your laptop, where you’d been putting in some extra time on one of your work assignments. You quickly google Van’s suggestion.

“It’s like a six hour drive, and less than two hours of a flight. Why the fuck would you drive?”

“You think it’s a two hour flight,” Van argues. “But once you take into account checking bags, and delays, and having to be picked up at the airport, it’s still a six hour ordeal.”

He kind of had a point. You’d never managed to take a trip home without being caught in nasty flight delays. But you’d always assumed that was because you flew during the holidays. Still, you’re not caving to Van’s crazy idea.

“I can’t get those days off work,” You tell him.

“Yes you can. I know you can. Your boss loves you.”

He’s right, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Even if I could,” You sigh, “I can’t afford to not work for three days. Some of us live paycheck to paycheck, Van.”

Per usual, Van dissipates a potential argument with humor. “Quit your job. I’ll hire you on as my assistant.”

You choke on a popcorn kernel from laughing. “That’s my worst nightmare. Bending to your whim at all hours of the day. Like right now!”

Van’s voice sounds hopeful when he pipes up, “Are you saying you’re bending to my whim?”

“Absolutely not,” You tell him sternly. “This isn’t how real life works! I don’t have the ability to drop everything and do shit like this just because you want me to.”

“It’s not about me,” Van lies. You roll your eyes. “It’s fun for you, isn’t it? You have vacation time, don’t you? If you’re not taking a big vacation, at least you can have a couple days of fun here or there.”

The most frustrating part of this entire phone call was that Van was right. And now that he’s planted the seed of the idea in your head, you were already becoming hopeful that it would work out and you could slip away to Phoenix for a day. You’d already halfheartedly texted Mary to get her opinion on your predicament.

“It’ll be so much fun,” Van pleads. “You get so caught up in work. It’s good for you to get out.”

You don’t respond, but glare at the phone. You’re so fucking tired of people telling you to get out of your comfort zone. These last two months hanging out with Van have already flipped your comfort zone inside out. You could use a little more comfort in your life, actually.

“I get out a lot, thanks,” You snipe at him.

“You’re welcome, love,” Van says sweetly in retaliation.

Mary’s text notification appears on your laptop. You click it and sigh.

“Well, Mary can’t go,” You tell Van, who’d promised you right off the bat you could bring a guest along.

“Is Mary your only friend?”

“That’s mean!” You pout into the phone.

“M’sorry. I wasn’t trying to be mean, I was genuinely asking.”

“She’s not my only friend,” You huff, “But she’s my best friend.” There were no other friends you felt even vaguely comfortable taking a six hour road trip with. “If she can’t go, I’m not going to hang out in Arizona alone, so just forget it.”

“You won’t be alone, you’ll be with me!”

“Yeah, but I’m just supposed to stand around in the crowd alone? And go to the hotel alone? And hang out while you’re at rehearsals alone? Sounds like so much fun.”

“It won’t be like that. Promise. If you’re my only guest I’ll get you a pass and you can go wherever I can. You can hang out during soundcheck, be backstage during the show, whatever.”

You chew the inside of your cheek. “So if I don’t bring a guest I’m allowed backstage, but if I do then I’m not?”

“Yeah. We’re not big on people hanging out in the dressing room. We try to keep the number of guests small. But the boys know you. They won’t mind.”

“I dunno, Van,” You sigh, rubbing your temples. “You’re giving me a headache.”

“Think about it, please,” He gives his final plea. “It’ll be a good time.”

“Okay, I’ll think about it, whatever,” You lie, only to get him off of your back.

“Okay. Miss you,” Van chirps.

“Miss you.” And then the call is over.

You fold your arms down on the table, nestling your head on top of them.

The thing is, Van always gets his way, doesn’t he?

If he didn’t, you wouldn’t be driving his Range Rover over to his house on Monday morning, your suitcase resting on its side in the backseat.

Van is not ready on time, forcing you to begrudgingly shut the car off and knock on his front door impatiently after waiting for him long enough.

“Sorry!” Van apologizes immediately as he swings the front door open. He’s bustling around in jeans, his belt looped through the waist but not buckled. He’s got socks on but no shoes, and he’s got a t-shirt rumpled around his neck. You’re not sure if he’s trying to wear it or take it off.

“You’re not even dressed!” You groan, as Van races around fussing with the items in his suitcases.

“One of my bags got lost on the flight over,” He explains. “So I’m trying to figure out what was in it and what’s missing.” He stands up straight, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Fuck.”

That’s a pretty good excuse, one you can’t be mad at him for. You sigh, softening. “That sucks.”

Van nods into his hands. When he lets them fall you can see how flushed his face is in frustration and decide to take pity on him.

“First things first,” You march over to him, getting your hands on his belt. “Get dressed.”

You buckle his belt and he sighs, tugging his arms into the shirt around his neck. You spot his usual boots resting by the front door. “Are you wearing those?”

He nods and you head over to the door, tossing them to Van. He slips them on and zips them up, tugging the cuffs of his jeans over them, and now he’s at least dressed.

Now you look around at the mess on the floor. “Do you have some sort of packing list?”

Van shrugs. “Not, like, written out, no. I pack all the time. I just kinda… do it.”

You don’t understand how anyone can mentally keep a packing list when it comes to packing your entire life away in preparation for months on the road. You reach for an unopened letter sitting on the table by the door. “Have a pen?”

Despite not having a list, Van has a pen within reach. He passes it over to you.

“Alright,” You sigh. “Let’s go through this step-by-step.”

After an hour and a half delay Van is significantly calmer, and mostly sure that he’s got everything he needs. The one thing that’s definitely been lost is his handful of adaptors so that his chargers work in America, so you have to stop off at Walmart before the drive can really begin so that he can buy some. Which works for you, considering you needed some drinks and snacks anyway.

You and Van separate as soon as you’re in the doors. You make a beeline for the food aisles while Van heads to find his adaptors.

Your assignment is pretty simple. Van doesn’t want any soft drinks, only water. But not just any water, he’d specified, but the largest water available. Considering that’s not sold in the coolers near the front where you grab a soft drink and an average sized water, you’re held up browsing for a bit. Eventually you find something that you hope he likes nestled amongst the two-liter bottles of juices and fruit punches and teas and any other sugary drink you could imagine. Then there’s snacks. Van wants Doritos, but you like a selection. You get yourself a smaller bag of potato chips, and some different boxes of movie theater candy from a different aisle. By the time you’re done, you’re sure he’s probably already searching for you.

Instead you find him still meandering around the tech area, all six feet of him clearly visible over the shelves.

“I can’t find them,” He mutters when you roll your squeaky shopping cart towards him. “I’ve checked everywhere.”

“Does this work?” You change the subject, lifting the water you’d gotten him. He nods, then goes back to scouring.

“Maybe they’re not over here,” You suggest after you’d abandoned the cart and conducted your own search without luck. “Is there a travel section?”

With that idea you follow Van as he heads for the luggage section.

You find the adaptors in the same aisle as the suitcases and duffle bags, along with other travel items you browse through curiously. There’s coolers as small as a shoe box and ice packs that will apparently stay frozen even in one-hundred degree heat. There’s sets of blankets and pillows rolled into packaging so tight you have no idea how you’d cram everything back in there. There’s a million different wallets that supposedly withstand every sort of natural disaster.

“This is so soft,” You gush as you’re squeezing each and every neck pillow. Van is still examining his adaptors, making sure he’s got exactly the right kind, but he does pause to reach out a hand and give the pillow you’ve held out to him a squish.

“That is soft,” He muses.

You pull it around your neck, rolling your head against it. “Oh my God, it feels so good,” You practically moan.

Van stands up straight, plucking one from the display for himself. “This is amazing,” He agrees, before tossing it in the cart. “I need a new one. You want one?”

You pause where you’re still happily hanging your head limply. “They’re forty dollars,” You point out.

Van only shrugs.

“I don’t need one,” You insist, taking yours off of your shoulders and setting it back on the hanger. “It’s fine.”

Van stares at you. You stare at him.

“I don’t really travel,” You say, putting your hands on the cart, ready to walk away.

As you start to roll away another neck pillow lands in the basket, rattling the things it lands on.

You snap your neck to look at Van, who’s grinning.

“You’re traveling right now, aren’t you?”

You roll your eyes to avoid having to think too hard about him spending money on you. And with that you head for the cash register, Van lagging behind you.

It takes over an hour to feel like the drive has really started. Although you’re on the highway, you’re caught in morning rush hour with jammed exits and people refusing to even meet the minimum speed. You can tell it drives Van nuts, who drums his fingertips on the steering wheel impatiently, changes the radio stations obsessively, and switches lanes when there really isn’t enough space for the Range Rover to squeeze over. It feels like a regular drive until the traffic eventually falls away and you guys can really get going, finally speeding away from your homes and towards Arizona.

“So when is everyone else arriving?” You ask after there’s been a bout of focused silence as Van tries to gain some ground, staying quiet as the radio plays.

“I have no clue,” He shrugs. “They could be there already, I dunno.”

“You haven’t spoken to them?”

“Not about flights, no. We talked about the show and how we’re excited to be back in America. But that’s it really.”

You think this over, watching the blur of restaurants and gas stations fly by.

“Do you like shows in the U.K. or U.S. better?” You ask eventually.

“Like ‘em both.”

“Oh, c’mon,” You sigh, turning to look at him. “That’s such an interview answer. You have to have a preference.”

Van licks his lips. “I like playing arenas,” He shrugs. “Arenas are fun. Shows in the U.K. are massive.”

“But you think arenas are the best thing in the world, and you’ll never wanna do a show anywhere else again, and then we do a smaller room in America and it’s class. You connect with the audience in an arena, but you don’t feel like you’re connecting with every single person in the crowd like you do in a smaller room.” He continues, “I don’t care though. I just love playing. As long as there’s a stage I’m happy. It doesn’t even have to be a real stage. I can stand on a milk crate.”

You have to laugh at that. “Okay, whatever. Fine. Where do you prefer living, then?”

Van considers this for a moment. “I dunno.”

“Oh, let me guess, Mr. I-like-everything. You can’t choose.”

“I can’t!” Van laughs. “There’s so many factors that go into it. That’s too hard of a question. I’ll say, I loved New York though. Have you ever been?”

“For one weekend,” You recall. “It was for school. A weekend of workshops and lectures and stuff. I didn’t get to see much, though. There was too much I wanted to do and not enough time after sitting in the convention center all day.”

You realize Van must feel the same way. In beautiful cities with not enough time to explore them. “Doesn’t that happen to you on tour?”

“Sometimes.”

“You don’t seem very disappointed.”

“M’not, really. The most exciting thing about a place to me is usually the music. And when we’re there we’re the music. I do miss a museum or a shop once in a while that I wish I’d been to.”

You sigh. Sometimes it feels like you and Van couldn’t be more unalike. He never seemed to have any anxieties or regrets about anything. Everything rolled off of him but stuck to you like you were flypaper.

“What’s your biggest regret?” You ask him suddenly, sitting up straighter.

“What, are we playing twenty questions?” Van laughs. “Pass me my water, will you?”

His bottle is too big for the cup holders so it’s rolling around by your feet. You pick it up and uncap it for him, handing it over. “You’re the one who wanted to road trip. Are we supposed to drive in silence?”

You watch Van’s throat work as he swallows down his drink before handing it back over to you.

“We can talk,” He replies. “But you go first. What’s your biggest regret?”

You know your biggest regret. It’s the first thing that pops into your mind whenever the topic comes up.

You don’t speak right away, though. You look out the windshield at the sky instead, watching as the car passes under the giant, cotton ball clouds.

“Leaving home,” You finally admit. You fold your legs up, hugging your knees into your chest. It makes the seatbelt cut into the soft flesh of your stomach, but you barely notice. “I’ve never told anyone that, actually.”

Van keeps his eyes on the road. “Never?”

“Never.” You say quietly. “Just you.”

“Why?”

“Why haven’t I told anyone or why do I regret it?”

“Both.”

You take a deep breath and rest your head on your knees so that you’re gazing at Van.

“It was too impulsive. Eighteen is way too young to be leaving behind your entire support system. My girlfriend had a shitty family, and I get leaving when things are like that. Like, if you don’t have anyone, might as well leave and start the life you want. Nothing to lose, sure. But I left a lot behind. My parents aren’t perfect, duh, whose are, but they loved me.”

So many feelings have started to swell up in you. You don’t know how to put them into words, but Van stays quiet, so you try.

“And I never told anyone because… How could I? Things turned out okay, didn’t they? I have a degree from UCLA. How many high school seniors are dying for that acceptance letter? I rent a nice place in one of the most expensive cities to live in in the country. I’ve got a nice job. Nice friends. My parents are so proud of me. They brag about me to everyone. How I left home and did so amazing on my own. I could never tell them I’d do things differently. And you try to say this stuff to people like you, or Mary, and they take it as a personal offense like I wish I’d never met them, you know what I mean?”

Van chuckles, nodding in understanding.

“Sorry, I’m rambling.” You shake your head, wipe your hair out of your face. “I didn’t mean to make this a therapy session.”

“You did ask a pretty loaded question,” Van snorts. But he reaches one of his hands across the console, resting it blindly on your knee in a moment of comfort before bringing it back to the steering wheel. “So lemme ask this, though: Are you happy?”

“Am I happy? Hm. I would say so. Happier than the people I see living on the streets. Happier than the kids that get roped into gang violence every day.”

“So you enjoy your life?”

“I mean. Sure. It’s fine. Yeah. Things could be better, but I like it.”

Saying it outloud, you realize your answer doesn’t equate to being happy. Or enjoying your life. There’s no feeling of satisfaction with what you’ve accomplished. But at the same time, you were only 24. Isn’t this how your twenties go?

Van seems to realize the crack in your answer, but he doesn’t say anything. You’re eager to change the subject off of your existential crisis.

“So what’s your regret?”

“Hm. I don’t have, like, one big one I can pinpoint like yours. But I have a lot of small ones that have kind of… rolled up over time.”

Your heart sinks. Of course you’d just spilled your heart out to someone who’s regret is probably going to be that he didn’t wear more comfortable shoes to drive in. You remember the wine-drunk conversation you and Mary had when you were done taking pictures, when you’d told her how you don’t really know Van.

“You have to have regrets.” Your voice wavers. “Please tell me you have at least one regret in your life, that you weren’t just born a beaming ray of sunshine.”

Van cackles. “A beaming ray of sunshine? I am not! Of course I have regrets!”

“Well, I’m just saying,” You huff. “You’re so calm about everything. It drives me nuts sometimes. Like, is it all an act? Or do you genuinely breeze through life?”

“I don’t breeze through life. At all. I guess I was raised to… not take things so hard, I suppose. So when things are out of my control I do try and shake them off. But I have lots of things that bother me. I try not to dwell on them, that’s all.”

“Like what?”

“Well for starters, I get the same guilt at leaving home.” Van wags his finger at you. “So that’s something we share. I don’t regret it, I knew what I was doing and I wanted to leave my hometown and I’m happy I did. But I know my parents miss me. And considering how hard they tried to have me I do feel a bit bad we haven’t gotten to live together under the same roof since I was… Twenty? I think?”

At Van’s confession you exhale in relief. “They tried hard to have you? Did they miscarry?”

Van shakes his head. “No, my mum didn’t miscarry. She couldn’t miscarry because nothing would take. I think she would’ve rather miscarried and realized her body could at least make a baby than what was going on. Just… nothing. Doctors told her she was barren.”

“And then… Bam? You?”

“Nah. Not even close. She was hit by a car when she was younger, you see. So there was some internal damage. Everyone tried to convince her just to adopt but she wouldn’t do it. Her and my dad tried IVF. They did two rounds, nothing. It was costing them everything. And breaking my mum’s heart. They saved up for one more round. And… here comes me.”

“Bam, you.” You repeat in awe. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone born that way. I don’t even know anyone who’s adopted.”

Van seems happy to tell the story of his conception. “It’s mental to think about, isn’t it?” He changes gears, getting back on topic. “But see, they worked so hard to have me, and then I up ‘n left ‘em. But they’re so proud. It is sad, though.”

“That is kinda sad,” You frown. “What else?”

Van sighs. “I have a ton of, like, love regrets. There’s been a lot of relationships where the thing that really went wrong was just me being young and not putting in enough effort. So I guess all of those. Not trying harder. Leaving someone you love at home while you go tour is tough already, let alone me being a right prick and not bothering to call or text or any of that.”

“Oh, Lord. So you’re saying you were the boyfriend who wouldn’t speak to you for days until you’re wondering if you’re even dating anymore.”

Van winces. “Yeah. I did try, I didn’t think I was that bad! Time differences are hard. Finding time to call in the beginning when it was pushing the band from sun up to sun down was hard. But I could’ve done it if I’d made more of an effort. I’d forget birthdays, that sort of thing. I lost girlfriends I really saw a future with. Which fucking sucks. I know I broke their hearts. I wasn’t out to do that to anyone. I regret that.”

Van’s answer satisfies you. You unfold your legs, resting back in your seat. “And are you happy?”

“I’m very happy,” Van replies immediately. “I love my life. I love the band. I love waking up everyday and getting to do this as my job. Doesn’t mean I don’t hit hard times. And I always grew up around a lotta love. My mum and dad were very in love. Still are. So when I’m single I do tend to feel like I’m missing out on something.”

You don’t have a response for him. You still reach out, same as he did for you, and give his knee a squeeze. He smiles.

You guys give your heart-to-heart conversations a rest, instead taking some quiet time as you approach the Arizona border. You munch on your snacks and feed Van some of his when he asks, and you two take turns deciding what radio station to listen to.

As Arizona approaches so does a thick blanket of clouds, successfully blocking your view of the brilliant blue sky. Eventually you’re caught in a drizzle. You enjoy watching the rain soak the desert, a strange sight you’ve never considered before.

The longer Van drives, the thicker the clouds get. What had started as a thin blanket of light gray clouds with sun peeking through starts to become a more dense, charcoal covered sky, the rain starting to pound.

You persist on your journey as long as you can, windshield wipers whipping away the droplets, but eventually it’s too hard for Van to see. The rain pours down the windows like a curtain, the wipers only creating ripples through the thick layer of water. Cars less suited for the road conditions have veered off to the side, waiting the worst of the storm out. You and Van decide to do the same, pulling into the first rest stop that appears.

You guys had needed a break, anyway. It feels good to stretch your legs out as you and Van gallop into the building and out of the buckets of rain. Other drivers have had the same idea, and inside is peppered with damp people looking for a place away from the storm.

You use the restroom and pick through the pamphlets about everything Arizona has to offer until Van sneaks up behind you.

“Reading something interesting?” He spooks you, making you jump.

“Yeah, look. Have you ever heard of these guys? They’re playing in Phoenix tomorrow.”

Inside one of the tourist booklets is an event schedule. One of the pages is dedicated to Catfish and the Bottlemen, decorated with a dramatic black and white picture of the band and featuring their notorious toucan. You flash the page at Van, who laughs.

“Nobody’s gonna go after seeing my ugly face.” He tries to slip the book through your fingers, but you hold tighter. “C’mon, I need a smoke.”

“I’m keeping this,” You insist, clinging to it tightly. “It’s a souvenir.”

You sprint back to the car with him, trying to keep the book dry. An impossible task, but you hope once the pages air dry it’ll be salvageable. You set it aside on the dashboard, where the vent can blow on it.

Van cracks the window, letting in an obnoxious amount of rainwater as he smokes.

“I’m freezing,” You shudder, soaked to the bone. “Can we turn the heat on?”

Van obliges, but the air still feels cold when it hits your damp skin. Your clothes and hair are soaked, sticking to your skin. You’re glad you hadn’t bothered to put any effort into your appearance.

Between puffs of his cigarette you can see Van looking over at you as you scroll through your phone. It becomes so obvious that eventually you catch him in the act.

“Why are you looking at me?” You ask. Van smiles, so you smile nervously back. “I get it, I look crazy. Leave me alone!”

You flip down the overhead mirror, looking for whatever flaw Van is obviously obsessed with staring at. Your hair is completely parted wrong, somehow both wet and frizzy at the same time. “Is it my hair? Do I have something in my teeth?” You check your teeth in the mirror but they pass the inspection. You flip the mirror back up, looking at Van expectantly.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Van brushes you off, ashing his cigarette out of the crack in the window.

“Something’s wrong. You’re making me self conscious.”

“I’m not trying to make you self conscious. Sorry. It’s nothing.”

You jump on his phrasing. “What is it?”

Van lets his cigarette go out of the window before rolling it up. The space is much quieter without having to hear the rain hit the cement at full volume. “Nothing!”

His eyes are on you again and you squirm, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. “Stop staring at me, then!” You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering.

“I mean,” Van sighs, exasperated. “Look at you!”

You look down at yourself then, and understand. You were wearing a white shirt, which has now dissolved into a transparent layer with the rain. You were practically sitting there naked. The thin bralette you have on underneath is clearly visible, and unable to conceal your nipples that are rock hard from the cold.

“You’re fit. That’s all I was thinking,” Van mutters.

Your cheeks heat up in realization. “Oh.”

Van looks away, fussing with the settings on the different vents to look busy. Now that he’s admitted his desire the air in the car feels thick with it. Your heart is pounding while your mind buzzes.

“Looks like it’s getting worse,” You mention quietly as the rain roars louder outside.

“Yeah. I just checked the weather and it’s supposed to pass over soon. This is the worst of it.”

You nod, still not looking at Van. You watch the water wash over the glass, obscuring your view of the outside. Surely nobody else can see, either. Not to mention the dark tint on the windows.

“I’m gonna change my shirt.” You try for breezy, but you know your voice always betrays your nerves. You look over at him. “You should get in the back and change, too.”

Van’s head snaps to meet your gaze, his eyes dark. He searches your face, clearly trying to decipher if you’re suggesting what he thinks you are. You raise your eyebrows in response, and reach over to click your door unlocked.

“You coming?” You ask him, before swinging the passenger door open and jumping out, trying to clamor into the backseat as fast as humanly possible. You shriek as you’re hit with a fresh douse of icy rain, tugging urgently at the handle. Van opens his door to the back bench at the same time, and the two of you are confronted with the luggage blocking your way. In the pouring rain you both scramble to toss it in the back before climbing in.

No sooner are you drenching the leather seats than Van has his hands on you, guiding you both into a soppy kiss. Your teeth chatter behind your lips and Van is breathing harshly from the shock to his system.

Your only relief is to shed your cold clothes. You get your hands under Van’s shirt, peeling the layer away. He does the same to yours, but struggles with your bralette. You take care of that for him, your chest completely broken out in goosebumps and your nipples unbearably sensitive.

Van’s in charge of peeling away his own boots.

“Is there a condom in your wallet?” You ask while he does that, reaching over the console for the cup holder where his leather wallet is.

“Yeah.”

You open it up, peering curiously in the compartments. “Where?”

“Right there with the cash.”

“There’s none in here.”

Van sighs in frustration, pausing after he undoes his belt to look himself. But you’re right. There’s none in there. “What?” He breathes in frustration, checking again. Still nothing. “That doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

He closes the wallet, tossing it carelessly back up front. “Anyway, there’s some in my suitcase.”

You lean over the seats into the trunk. “What bag?”

“The black one.”

“They’re all black.”

“The one… fuck!” Van runs his hands through his hair. “The one that got lost at the airport.”

You sink into a sitting position, unsure of what to say.

“Do you have any?” Van asks you, his eyes pleading.

You shake your head. “You always have some.”

The mood is slowly starting to disintegrate as you two wrack your brains.

“You didn’t grab any at Walmart?” You ask hopefully.

It’s Van’s turn to shake his head. “I thought I had enough.”

You slump against your seat. “Do you think they sell any in there? They had that vending machine with the Tylenol and stuff.” You hadn’t seen any condoms, but then again you hadn’t particularly been looking.

Van perks up at that. “I think they have a machine in the men’s room.”

“...What?”

“What?”

You both stare at each other curiously. “A machine?”

Van nods. “Yeah. You put the quarter in and twist, ya know?”

“Like a tampon dispenser?”

Van shrugs. “Never seen one.”

You gesture. “Like a box on the wall?”

“Yeah!”

This information blows your mind, but you reach down on the floor and retrieve Van’s soaked shirt. “Go get one!”

Van groans, but obliges. He’s a rumpled mess when he exists the car, and you notice as he jogs away his belt is still undone.

While you sit there alone you finish undressing yourself. When that’s done you peruse the trunk, tugging out a throw blanket you’d packed and wrapping it around yourself for some coverage.

You see Van the second he bursts through the building doors, condom clearly in hand.

“Got one?” You ask when he hops back into the car, even though he clearly does.

“Yeah. Trojans, too.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“Yeah,” Van grins. “There was a lad at the urinal having a right laugh at me. Standing there in my socks with my belt undone.”

You grin at the image. “What’d you say?”

“What could I say? I just laughed with him.”

He’s got a second condom that he sets aside. “There’s one for my wallet. I can grab some more in Phoenix.”

He struggles to kick his jeans off and then adds his shirt and socks to the sopping puddle of fabric on the floor. Finally you’re both naked.

“You’re gonna have to warm me up,” Van says, reaching for you. “I’m way too cold to get wrapped.”

He tugs you onto his lap so that you’re straddling him. The throw blanket around your shoulders encompasses you both, managing to create a space where your combined body heat can warm you up. You get a slow grind going against Van’s clammy thighs.

It’s a strange position to be in, sitting upright chest to chest. Every time you move your nipples rub against his chest hair, the sensitivity making you wince.

Van notices, his palms moving from your sides to roughly cup your breasts. His fingers are cold but his palms are warm, an instant relief against your nipples.

“That feels so good,” You tell him. “Blow into your hands.”

He does as he’s told, heating his palms up with hot air and rubbing them together before he cups you again, helping you warm up. You return the favor by breathing your hot breath down his neck, making him shiver.

“You’re so fit,” Van murmurs when you push the wet hair out of his face, tipping his head back to kiss him. “I don’t think I tell you enough.”

“Stop,” You groan quietly, forever uncomfortable taking even the slightest compliment. “You are too. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

“There’s no credit to be given,” Van insists. In retaliation you bite down on his shoulder, making him jump.

Van lets a hand drop from your chest, easing around to touch you for some foreplay. He goes between your legs from behind, the brush of his fingertips making you startle.

“Easy, easy,” Van reassures you as he gently explores. But it’s like an ice cube pressing against you, and you cringe away.

“Quit, you’re so cold.” You tell him. “Like an icicle touching me.”

Van pulls away, bringing his fingers between your bodies. “Do you want me to do the honors?” He asks.

But you grab his wrist, guiding his two fingers into your mouth. You feel his dick jump against your thigh as you take them as deep as they can go, making a real show out of it.

“Oh, Christ,” Van groans, tipping his head back. “You’re trying to fucking kill me.”

You stop sucking with a sloppy noise, leaving him to guide his fingers back between your legs. Now that they’re warm the sensation is pleasant, and he eases them inside of you easily. It’s good, but highlights the ache of his absence more vividly.

“How are you doing?” You ask against his neck as you’re in the middle of pushing back against the pressure of his fingers. You slip a hand between his legs to feel for yourself. He throbs in your palm.

“Good,” He says, voice strained. “Making sure you’re coming along.” He slips his fingers out of you, spreading the wetness on his knuckles over your clit before rubbing in his usual circles.

Something about him considering your pleasure tugs at your heart. You bury your head in his neck, breathing his scent in while you try to push away the strange rush. “Van,” You breathe, but he understands, pulling his fingers away and reaching for the condom.

You have to shift your weight around to give him enough space, but then he’s ready. There’s a shared desperation as you guide him into you, both of you groping for the other, panting and kissing and groaning as you wiggle in his lap.

It’s physically the closest you’ve ever been to someone during sex. You’ve never been in this position, chest to chest with someone while they’re inside of you. The added tight space of the car means that no sound is lost as you two get going. And nothing feels the same as the first time after Van’s been away. You two have finally warmed up, and in this moment everything feels intense and perfect.

Van seems to feel the same, his eyes practically rolling back into his head every time you bounce against him. When he tips his head back in overwhelm you lunge forward, kissing down the column of his throat. You can feel his moan vibrating against your lips.

There’s no words exchanged as you fuck him. Anything that needs to be communicated is done through sharp breaths, groans, his fingertips digging into your sides, your hands in his hair, your teeth grazing each other’s skin, your mouths clashing together. The way your thighs shake and his stomach clenches.

“Let’s flip,” are the first words, uttered quietly by Van.

“No,” You pant. “I’m not going through that hassle.” There was no way Van was going to steal this moment from you. Your whole body was on fire with how incredible everything felt. No way in hell was he going to convince you to let him be in control. No fucking way.

Van whines in disagreement, pouting. You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging hard. A raw noise escapes his lips as you hold his head tightly.

“I am so fucking close,” You pant, speeding up against his thighs for emphasis. “And I know you are too. So chill out, Van.”

When you say his name his eyelids flutter closed, relaxing more fully into the grip of your hand.

You hold him there for a bit longer, loving the access to the underside of his jaw. When you release him he stays put.

Your orgasm comes unexpectedly, something that rarely happens. As soon as you feel the tight tension between your legs Van seems to sense it, too, snapping his eyes open. He sits up straight, wrapping his arms around you and holding you to his chest as you tremble through it, crying out. He squeezes you a bit tighter as you ride the wave of your climax, and loosens his arms as you whimper through the aftershocks. It doesn’t take him too long after, and you cup his jaw in your hands, carefully watching the way his freckles shift as his face scrunches up. Oh how you’ve missed watching him come. You kiss him when it’s over.

When everything is said and done you climb off of him, tugging the blanket tighter around you. All of the windows are completely steamed over, windshield included. You’re trembling head to toe even though you’re not cold.

Van ties off the condom but has no choice but to set it gingerly in one of the backseat cup holders. “Don’t let me forget that,” He tells you.

When he meets your gaze you’re sure he’s mirroring your expression. Something about the encounter has you feeling like an exposed nerve. The intensity of the experience makes your stomach hurt. You’ve got that deep feeling in your bones you get from incredible sex. That feeling when you know that was a moment that exceeds others, a moment you’ll always remember.

“Have I told you I missed you?” Van asks quietly. You wonder if his stomach aches like yours.

“Not yet,” You whisper.

“I fucking missed you,” Van says, getting up on his knees to start searching around for some dry clothes. He struggles to unzip a bag before handing you one of his hoodies. The scent of his laundry detergent as you tug it over your head makes you feel dizzy.

“I missed you,” You tell him, sitting up to dig around in your own bags.

Hours later you finally pull up at the hotel. You feel sorely out of place standing at the front desk next to Van, with your sweats and flip flops and rain damp hair. You’re swimming in Van’s hoodie, the cuffs of the arms hanging longer than your hands, and you fuss with your sleeves as Van speaks to the concierge. Everything is glossy marble and shiny brass accents, rich fabrics. The people look important, dressed in business attire. Van doesn’t look like he belongs either, but he’s so charming you don’t think anyone realizes it.

On your way to the elevators you only pray that you don’t see any of the other boys in your present state.

“Do you know if anyone else is here?” You ask when you and Van are the only ones in the elevator. It’s hard for you to believe it’s only 5pm. This day feels like it’s been eternal, and you’re exhausted.

“Dunno,” Van yawns. “Bob might be. Benji and Bondy usually don’t fly early if they can help it.”

You follow Van down the hall to your assigned room. Someone from the crew is headed to unload the car and bring Van’s bags up here, but you’d felt too awkward to take advantage of that, rolling your suitcase behind you.

It’s a nice room with two beds, a large bathroom and kitchenette, and a small cement balcony with a decent view of the city. There’s a gift basket on the desk like there had been in San Diego.

“Do you always get gift baskets?” You ask, poking around to see what he’s been given.

“Most of the time,” Van says, looking through it with you. “I mean, having a whole touring crew stay in your hotel is a lot of business. So they’re usually eager to make a good impression.”

That makes sense. You continue to look around. You want to open up your suitcase on the second bed, but you’re not sure if Van wants you two to sleep separately. You’ve never been in a situation where you had the option not to share one bed. Maybe he wants some space.

You awkwardly leave your bag standing in the middle of the floor while you poke around the kitchenette.

“What are you supposed to do with this?” You ask, lifting up the kettle on the small counter. There’s no stovetop where you’d be able to boil water in it, and there’s an electric cord attached to it.

“Um…” Van look at you quizzically. “Make tea?”

“But there’s no stove to heat it.”

“It’s electric.” Van gestures loosely at the kettle. “You fill it, plug it in.”

“Is this the hotel’s?”

“No. We each have one. The team leaves it for us.”

You continue to gape at it in amazement. You’ve never heard of an electric kettle.

“You’re so American it kills me,” Van shakes his head. There’s a knock at the door, and he rushes to retrieve his bags. He thanks whoever brought them up graciously before hauling them onto the bed closest to the door. That settled the bed situation, then.

You don’t know how you expected the rest of the evening to go, but you’re surprised at how mundane it is. You shower in preparation for tomorrow and half-heartedly blowdry your hair so that it wouldn’t soak your pillow. When you’re done with your shower Van places a room service order for dinner, and afterwards you two laze on the bed, watching whatever random movie is playing on the TV. Eventually you feel yourself dozing off even though it’s only eight, and snuggle up for an early night. The last thing you remember is Van telling you that Bondy had just arrived and he was going to his room for a smoke before you doze off.

You wake up to an empty bed, disoriented that you’re not at home and confused about what time it is. All of the blackout curtains are drawn but sunlight still manages to seep underneath them, illuminating the windowsill and a square of the carpet by the balcony doors.

You check your phone for any texts from Van, but there are none. You’ve slept later than usual, probably thanks to the blackout curtains, and you’re surprised to see it’s nearing noon. You take your sweet time climbing out of bed and meandering over to the kitchenette to fuck with the coffee maker.

It’s only as you’re reading the laminated instructions the hotel’s left on the counter that you hear Van’s voice, muffled through the glass doors. From where you’re standing you can see a sliver of him through the curtains, shuffling around on the balcony. You wonder who he’s outside with, and why he’d brought someone through the room while you were sleeping instead of just going to their room.

“Yeah…” You hear him say, straining to hear as you fill the machine with water from the tap. “Right. Right.”

You can only hear Van’s voice, and not whoever he’s replying to.

“Maybe. We’ll see. We’ll see, alright?”

You’re unable to hear as the machine gets going with a hiss, making a racket as it heats the water you’ve added and runs it through the grounds in the filter. The noise of it filling the styrofoam cup you’ve put under the machine is even worse, a loud trickle that feels like it takes forever to fill the cup.

There’s a shift in the shadows as Van stands up, and you can hear him pace.

“Ah, don’t be like that,” He laughs, and you realize he’s on the phone. With a sinking feeling it occurs to you that he could easily be talking to another girl. Does he do this same thing to her? Sneak away for phone calls with you?

You have to add an obscene amount of sugar packets to your coffee in order to make it slightly drinkable. You hope Van doesn’t take sugar in his tea, because there’s not much left for him. But judging by the way the kettle has a light on, it seems like he’s already made himself some.

You don’t know what comes over you, but the more you think about Van talking to another girl while you vigorously stir your coffee, the angrier it makes you. Sure you’re not exclusive with him, but at the very least he could have some basic decency and not call them directly after sharing a bed with you. Not to mention he hadn’t even bothered to leave the room, really. Only a thin set of doors kept you and this other girl from knowing about each other. Because really, who else would he be calling? Anyone he could possibly want to speak to is only a room away.

It’s this unexpected anger that carries your feet to the doors before you step out on the patio. You’d expected to startle Van, but that’s an unrealistic goal. He’s got his back to you, one hand holding his phone to his ear and the other wrapped around his mug of tea. He nods to you in acknowledgement before taking a sip of his drink.

“That’s fucking annoying,” He agrees into the phone. “I’d be fuming.”

The mystery person talks for a bit longer, Van humming along in agreement before he speaks again.

“I’ll call you later,” He says, “Someone needs me.” The other person seems to put up a fuss, because he continues with, “Soon! Soon! I know. Okay.”

There are a few more okay’s and platitudes before he finishes the call with a warm I love you that has you digging your fingernails into your palm.

When Van hangs up he’s quiet. It’s not your place to ask who it was, a fact you have to chant to yourself in your mind like a mantra to keep the question from rolling off your tongue.

“They can talk forever, me mum ‘n dad,” Van says finally, turning so that he’s facing you.

You feel the blood drain out of your face as you realize who he’d been speaking to. You try to keep your expression neutral as your irrational anger drops away.

“Talking about them yesterday with you reminded me to give them a call. I was long overdue. They get so excited to hear what I’m up to.”

You sip your coffee. “You don’t text them?” You rarely called your parents. Texting was your primary way of keeping up with them, along with the occasional facetime.

“Sometimes. But they don’t really get texting. They like to pass the phone back and forth so they can both talk to me.” He grins as he explains this. “They love The Balance. Everytime I talk to them they’ve got a new favorite.”

You smile at that. “They love The Balance?”

“Yeah. They love everything we’ve done. They’ve always got the band playing. They play it when I’m not around, tellin’ everyone oh that’s my son, you know.” He lights up as he talks about them, sitting down on the wire chair next to the one you’ve settled into.

“That’s cool. That they support you like that. It’s one thing for them to be proud but it’s not their kind of music,” You say. “But for them to love it… That’s cute.”

“It is,” Van nods. “The only thing I hate is that they start getting on my back about who they’re about.” He shakes his head. “When 7 came out my mum was like, ‘I really like that song, Van. But who are you not calling back?’”

You laugh at that, and Van joins in.

“Do you tell them?” You ask when the laughter’s died down.

Van shrugs. “Depends. They’re my best mates so usually they have a pretty good idea before they even ask.”

The conversation dies down as you think about what Van’s said. It must be strange to have your parents listening to your songs so intently, like having them read your journal, but Van doesn’t seem to mind. Something about his close relationship with his parents sits warm in your stomach with your coffee.

“So…” You speak up eventually, “How do days like this go?”

“Oh, right. I’ve got your pass, by the way. You have to remind me to grab it.”

Just as Van explained, a few hours later the band is rounded up into a car before being escorted to the venue, where you’ll spend the rest of the day. After the initial arrival- with someone from the venue giving a quick tour of where everything is- everyone is left to their own devices, lounging around backstage until soundcheck, which you watch from side stage.

It’s more laid back than you’d thought. The band spends a lot of the time laughing with each other, telling jokes into their microphones in between requests for their instruments to be tweaked. Their guitar tech, Van’s childhood best friend Larry who you’d been introduced to today, jokingly stomps around as if their requests are the bane of his existence. They only play a few songs all the way through, and then apparently that’s the end of it and they’re ready for the show later.

After soundcheck everyone digs into the catered lunch. You’d been expecting some run-of-the-mill cafeteria type food, but instead it’s home cooked food that tastes incredible. Well, the mac and cheese tastes incredible. You shy away from most of the menu considering it’s mostly British foods you weren’t familiar with. But if the amount the boys eat is any indication, it must be amazing.

Afterwards everyone is laying around in the dressing room, with Bondy playing some eclectic music through a bluetooth speaker. You try to come across as relaxed, but truthfully you’re anything but. Van wasn’t kidding when he said they didn’t like guests. There’s no other guests besides you. You’re the odd one out keeping to yourself as they sing along to songs you don’t know and take frequent smoke breaks you’re too awkward to join. Everything is strange, and unfamiliar, and you’re so worried about disrupting any of their pre-show routine that you basically sit on your phone most of the time, taking occasional moments to laugh along politely so you don’t seem like you’re having a bad time. You’re so tense from it all that your neck aches.

The door to the hall is open, a steady flow of people passing the doorway. You’d overheard someone announce that the opening act had just arrived, and the volume of people bustling around was increasing with a second band in the venue. Somewhere in the chaos a little boy suddenly meanders into the dressing room.

He looks to be about three years old, blinking around at the band in shock.

“Hi, lad,” Bondy says. The boy stares at him, speechless, eliciting a laugh from everyone.

“Whatcha doin’?” Van asks. He’d been sprawled out on the loveseat while you’d been tightly bunched against the armrest, but at the arrival of this guest he suddenly slides off of the cushions, sitting down on the floor. He waves.

The little boy waves back, still looking like a deer in headlights.

“Aw, Charlie,” Van pouts. “You’re just gonna stand there?”

You assume the boy’s name is Charlie, because when Van says it the boy giggles, starting to toddle towards where Van’s sitting on the floor. Van stretches his arms out, snatching Charlie up when he’s close enough and plopping him into his lap. Charlie shrieks in amusement.

A middle aged man enters the room, relieved to see the two of them on the floor.

“Scares the shit out of me when he does that,” The guy shakes his head. As he approaches, Charlie stands up on Van’s thigh, throwing his chubby arms around Van’s neck and squealing, a clear indicator he does not want to go.

“Oi, oi,” Van winces, untangling the toddler from around his neck.

“He misses you,” The man laughs. “I could see him looking for you all day, like-” He widens his eyes, imitating a deer-in-headlights expression.

“You miss me?” Van asks, dramatically placing a hand on his heart and looking to Charlie for confirmation. Charlie doesn’t give one, but he giggles.

“Want me to watch him for a bit?” Van asks, shifting Charlie’s weight when he stands directly in his line of vision.

“You don’t have to,” The guy insists.

“Are you kidding?” Van scoffs playfully, before tickling Charlie. “I love hanging out with him! We have fun, right lad?” There’s the ear-piercing burst of baby giggles.

“Alright. When he starts annoying you just bring him back.”

“Annoying me!” Van laughs, eliciting another fit of giggles. “He could never!”

The man leaves the room, and Van nudges your knee from his spot on the floor.

“Come have a smoke with me,” He says before getting up from the floor and hoisting the toddler onto his hip.

You’re shocked when he doesn’t ask any of the other boys along. You get up from the loveseat awkwardly, walking with Van out into the busy hall and following him towards the back door.

“Dave’s one of our lighting guys,” He explains without being asked. “Brings his wife and Charlie out on the road with him.”

“Aw,” You say, offering a friendly smile to Charlie as he gazes at you from where his head is happily resting against Van’s shoulder. He’s got wide brown eyes, dark hair, and dried chocolate around his mouth.

“Yeah. I’ve known Mr. Charles here since they used to haul him around in a sling.”

“I can tell,” You reply. Despite Charlie’s initial shock at wandering into their dressing room, it’s clear he’s comfortable with Van.

Van leads you through the back door. You step out into the back parking lot for the venue, where there’s two large busses parked and a large team of people unloading them.

There’s a man and a woman smoking against the building, and they light up when they see Van.

“You want down?” He asks Charlie, and when he nods Van lets him down on the cement.

“Vaaan,” The woman, who looks older than both of you, greets him. She immediately reaches out for a hug that Van returns enthusiastically, kissing his cheek as she pulls away. The man hugs him, too.

You’re interrupted from watching their greeting by a tug on the hem of your shirt.

“Ball!” Charlie exclaims, and points. You look in the direction he’s pointing in to see a soccer ball jammed between the building and a parking block. There’s nobody using it, so you decide to wander away from the conversation, Charlie following after you eagerly as you pick it up.

“Wanna play?” You ask him, because at this point hanging out with a toddler is better than standing around awkwardly. Charlie nods, clapping with joy.

“Alright…” You hum. The parking lot isn’t ideal, since the cement is hot from baking in the sun and people are moving equipment. You spot a patch of grass. “Let’s play over there.”

“Me and Charlie are going to play ball,” You let Van know as you walk by. He nods, but you’re not sure if he really hears you.

The two of you make it to the strip of grass. Charlie doesn’t look like he’s very steady on his feet, so you sit down, and instruct him to do the same a little ways away. You roll the ball to him with your hands, and he catches on instantly, overjoyed to have someone to play with.

It’s calming to be in the presence of someone too young to judge you. After a long day of worrying about what everyone must be thinking of you, rolling a ball peacefully in the grass is therapeutic. Charlie takes care of the conversation, babbling about the grass and how hot it is and his favorite color (orange).

You don’t know when Van joins you, but it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes later.

“Sorry,” He apologizes, sitting down in the grass with you two. “I got caught up. That’s the opening act, haven’t seen them in a couple years.”

“That’s okay,” You tell him, even though you’re slightly annoyed at feeling excluded. “We’re having a good time over here.”

“I see that. You want a smoke?”

You pluck one out of his box he offers. He tosses you the lighter.

You’re so distracted lighting your cigarette that when Charlie rolls the ball to you it bounces over your shin.

“Hey,” You tell him, pretending to be upset. “You’re too good!”

“Look at you, superstar,” Van marvels, and Charlie glows with both of your praise.

Van gets his own cigarette lit before shuffling so that he’s sitting closer to you. “Are we boring the fuck out of you?”

“No, why?” The question is so random it makes you panic. Had your anxiety been coming off rudely?

“Only asking. A lot of people think these kinda things are so exciting and then once they’re a guest once they hate it.”

“It’s not boring. It’s… weird.”

“Yeah?” Van is purposely turning his head to exhale, making sure the breeze doesn’t carry his smoke straight at Charlie. “How so?”

“I dunno. I’ve never really thought about what bands do before their shows. But if you do take a second to think about it, you don’t really imagine they’re eating catering and babysitting the lighting guy’s toddler.”

Van laughs at that. “Right, right. Fair enough.”

“But I like it. I’d rather do this than watch you pop a handful of pills.” You shrug.

“Oi, pills. Mum would kill me.”

“Vah! Vah!” You’re both pulled out of your bubble by Charlie.

“What, lad?” Van asks.

“Wait, he knows your name?” You gape at Van in surprise.

Charlie rolls the ball to Van, who rolls it back. “He does,” He grins. “I’m ‘Vah’, and Bob, Bondy, and Benji are ‘Bah’.”

“And get this,” Van returns the ball so his hands are free to pluck his cigarette from his mouth. “What’s my band called, Charlie?”

“Cat-sh!” He misses the middle syllable.

“That’s insane,” You murmur in awe.

“It is. I remember when Jess was pregnant. And now there’s a whole human in front of me! It’s hard to wrap your head around.”

You agree, silently pondering the miracle of life.

“And he’s such a champ on the road. Great on planes and long car rides. I hope my kid is as good about traveling as him.”

At that you perk up. “You want kids?”

“Oh yeah,” Van nods. “Love ‘em. Can’t wait to have my own little boy.”

You snort at that. “And what if you have a girl?”

Van winks. “Just something to work at, innit?”

Charlie is tired of rolling the ball, deciding instead playing his own game where he picks the ball up in both of his arms, drops it, and picks it up again.

“How old are you again?” You ask him.

“Be 27 in August.”

“When’s your birthday?”

“It’s my gate code! First of August.”

When he says that you have the epiphany. “That’s what your gate code is? I thought it stood for January eighth!”

“Christ!” Van sighs dramatically, flopping back onto the grass. “You Americans and your weird dates!”

“Oh, quit.” You lightly kick at his outstretched leg. “For someone who hates America so much, you sure do spend a lot of time here.”

Van props himself up on an elbow, checking his phone. He smirks. “I like the people.”

Before you’re able to ask what that means, he starts standing up.

“It’s showtime soon. We should head back in.”

He helps you off of the grass before gathering Charlie up in his arms and heading to return him to Dave.

The dressing room has a television where you’re able to watch the show. You watch the opening act with the boys, their energy becoming more frantic as it gets closer to nine. Bob has a quiet, focused sort of energy, Benji seems indifferent, but Van and Bondy amp each other up, singing along to the set and pacing around the room.

When the lights go down and the crew is changing out the instruments, you follow the boys to a different area backstage, where everything starts to feel real. You hang around Van as someone from the team sets up his in-ears, feeding the wires underneath his shirt and through the collar of his button up, clipping the battery pack onto the waistband of his jeans. Van’s already stepped away a little bit ago to do a full vocal warm up with his coach, but she’s there again with him to do some last minute exercises. He doesn’t have any reservations about doing them in front of you, and it shouldn’t surprise you but it does. He imitates back whatever strange noise she makes with an extreme seriousness.

You can tell his head’s in a different place by the time he’s only a few minutes away from being in front of the crowd. He shifts his weight from foot to foot restlessly. You stay quiet, unsure of this new Van.

“I’ll meet you in the dressing room after this,” He says. You nod, even though it wasn’t a question.

Suddenly his hand is on your back, one side of his mouth quirking up. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” You breathe, relieved at the crack in his intensity. “I’ve never seen you so serious. Don’t wanna mess you up.”

“You, mess me up? Nah,” He pats your back before dropping his hand.

The screams grow louder, the lighting changes.

“That’s my cue.” Van gives a quick wave before he’s ushered on stage. One by one the boys file out, the screams growing with each member.

Once they’re out there, the opening notes of Longshot starting up, you wander back to the dressing room, deciding to watch the show from the comfort of the couch.

You’d been worried that watching Van perform through a screen wouldn’t feel the same as when you’d seen him from the crowd back home, but that wasn’t the case. Something about the performance feels even more intoxicating than the first time.

You shut the door to the hall, eager to have some personal space. This is your first time having a moment alone in two days, and you desperately needed to sort through your thoughts.

As much as you’re entranced by the music, your mind tugs you elsewhere. You replay everything you’ve learned about Van on this short trip: His favorite road trip snacks, his relationship regrets, how close he is with his parents, how he wants to be a father. While watching him become progressively sweatier from singing his lungs out you think of how he’d been there for you after your accident, how he’d never even asked after the Range Rover. You think back to what Mary had said. He acts like he loves you.

You don’t know about that. But what you do know is you haven’t felt like yourself since that steamy moment at the rest stop. That dizzy, hazy feeling has clung to you like a fog all day. Not only did you not feel like yourself, you weren’t acting like yourself. You’d been so angry this morning, working yourself up when he’d only been on a phone call with his parents. And as much as you’d never admit it, for some reason you couldn’t stand being around the rest of the band today. You yearned for alone time with him and resented sharing him with anyone.

You’re interrupted from your train of thought by Van’s line in Pacifier ringing through the room: She said it’s you I detest!

He can’t contain his smile as he leans towards the crowd, smirking as he continues: I said c’mon, love, you’re upset.

The crowd goes wild at his amended line, screaming it right back at him. Something about the way he’s got the whole room in the palm of his hand makes your insides fizz. You’re in awe of how magic he is yet so confused by everything going on inside of you. It feels like your heart swells as you watch him, his passion contagious. It’s like he’s managed to transmit his joy of performing into everyone around him, yourself included. Your body buzzes with it and you wish suddenly you could be jumping around in the crowd with everyone else.

It’s in that moment, your legs practically twitching with the desire to move along to the beat, that all the fog clears. There’s no more confusion over how you feel. It’s crystal clear why you haven’t been acting like yourself. All of the pieces click into place.

The relief of understanding washes over you, settling into your bones and resting in the deepest part of your gut. You actually laugh out loud to yourself as the realization hits you, because of course. Of course.

You were completely- no doubt about it- in love with Van McCann.

#summer's a knife #catfish and the bottlemen #van mccann #van mccann fic #van mccann fanfiction #vanfic #catb #catb fic

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zigtheeortega · 3 years

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wip wednesday

thank you so much to @raleighcarrera for tagging me! mwah i love u <3 and i cannot wait for your fic :-)

i’m tagging: @pixeljazzy ; @agentdumortain ; @pixelsandkink ; @writinghereandthere ; @agentsunshine ; @kentzarneki ; @levineseth ; @troublemakerinspace and anyone else who wants to share !!!

okay here’s a little excerpt from the choices wips im currently working on! putting it under the cut bc im being generous and giving you TWO sneak peeks baby !

bryce holiday au

She rolled her eyes. “You really think my parents will let me out this late? I came back to a curfew, you know.”

“Oh. We can work around that.”

“How?” She was genuinely baffled by this guy’s confidence.

“Sneak out.”

“Did you… Did you just skip over the part where I hinted at how strict my parents are?”

He shrugged, again. “Worst case scenario, they ground you for the rest of the break. Then you go back to college in a couple weeks, and they can’t boss you around there, so what are you really risking?”

↳ this takes place during their FIRST meeting and their relationship spans like... over a decade maybe? its gonna be a long one but i’ve barely gotten into their FIRST reunion and its 6k words.... it’ll be out eventually LMAO

bladesaw fic

The minute they strolled onto the property that’d later be the orphanage all those years ago, Mal was changed.

The roof was caved in, nearly rotted from years of neglect. The flooring was battered. The rain damage alone was enough to send any sane person running.

Oddly enough the challenge seemed to seal the deal for him.

Watching him (shirtless) repairing the roof by hand, Zilyana couldn’t help but think back to the first time they’d been in peril – he’d ran from responsibilities, ready to pawn them off on the next sorry sap.

But he didn’t run from this – his calling.

↳ so this is set in the future when mal and zilyana have settled down and mal decides to bring up The Conversation ya know the one that interspecies relationships w different life spans dread? anyways i almost abandoned it but i’ve gotten bursts of energy lately so !!! im very excited

(i’m also working on a tatum fic but its soooo bare bones rn and it prob wont get done for a WHILE)

#tag games #wips #edit: oh my god the level of brainrot i had to have to say 'wips im currently working on' am i really this stupid?????

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ascottywrites · 5 years

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The Sterek List --Heads

I have a guilty pleasure in enjoying Sterek (Heads) and Steter (Tails) fanfiction, if you could not tell by the last post, it's crazy outta control like woah. I hope you enjoy this list of fics that make my day while keeping me up during all hours of the night and tossing my free daylight moments down a swirling time vortex.

...don't be like me. It's probably for the best.

--Sterek a.k.a Stiles Stilinski/ Derek Hale--

*a.k.a the inappropriate light of my life

Move A Mountain by ZainClaw (Complete: 9/9| 69,008) --Sterek/ --Biker!Derek

Stiles goes camping with his friends in New Mexico after graduation where they befriend a biker gang led by Derek: a guy whom Stiles can’t decide if he will be either relieved or devastated to never see again once their week is up.

Racing With The Wind by lowlifetheory (Complete: 3/3| 26,478) --Sterek/ --Biker!Derek

'Sure thing Scott, I'll give him a ride,' Derek practically leered. Stiles faltered, the sudden image of Derek pinning him down, his muscular torso rippling with movement. Derek's smile spread into a smirk as Stiles got closer.

'I'm not really comfortable with this particular mode of transport.' Stiles said clutching the helmet. He wondered what it was made of, how secure it was, would it save his life if he fell off?

'Don’t worry, I know how to handle her,' Derek said resting a warm palm on Stiles's shoulder, fingers squeezing slightly as he guided Stiles closer to the massive hulking black bike.

'I should hope so,' Stiles muttered glaring at the motorbike.

The Feeling That I’m Under by wearing_tearing (Complete: 20/20| 289,584) -- Sterek/ --Biker!Derek Bunnysuit/Paramedic!Stiles

Stiles is a paramedic and Derek gets into a bike accident. It’s kind of love at first sight.

Part of the Pack by JusteAmusant (Complete: 7/7| 13,035) --Sterek

Season one of Teen Wolf, seen through Sterek-colored glasses. Canon Divergence after season 1 idk there's slow burn Sterek and a puppy, and way more Derek sneaking in through Stiles' window

“He could have shifted in front of them,” Derek hisses. “That means they find out about him, and in turn find out about me.” He pauses. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s a washing machine, what the hell does it look like? It’s a puppy.”

In which Derek is a struggling Alpha, but still the Pack Dad, and oh god, does that mean Stiles is the pack mom?

(There's) Sulphur in Our Blood by WonderWolf (wip: 18/20| 178,650) --Sterek

"Harris put you on a recon mission with Derek. You. Alone with Derek. On a mission. Together,” Scott says, slowly. “Does Harris want you dead?”

“I believe so," Stiles says gravely.

(Secret Agent AU where Derek blames Stiles for his sister’s death and Stiles is pretty sure that Derek’s going to murder him. As if that weren’t enough to deal with, Stiles’ familiar keeps having public breakdowns. Oh, and there’s a mole in the agency, so there’s that too).

Prince Among Wolves by Rawren (Deshonanana) (Complete: 20/20| 101,000) --Sterek

Looking for full day/evening sitter. 2 twin boys age 4. Must have exp. w/werewolves. Must be human. No pedophiles. No teenage girls. Pay negotiable.

Pretty Human Virgin Boy Comes to the Pond- Feed Him All the Best Heads by Delta_Immortal (Complete: 8/8| 49,771) --Sterek/ --Dark!Derek

Stiles knew it was a bad idea to go into the woods, but little did he know his actions would cause the death of everyone around him. Running from the thing that killed Danny, Scott and Stiles stumble upon a pond, which happens to hold a strange man named Derek who floats around in the middle of it. Derek assures them they're safe now.

What appears to be salvation is nothing more than the start of the death of everyone Stiles cares about. The being known as Derek haunts him at every turn, unsatisfied until Stiles succumbs to Derek's whims. Stiles isn't sure if that involves sexing him or eating him, and he really doesn't want to find out.

*This had me like Holy Crap

It Was a Wednesday by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) (Complete: 2/2| 80,119) --Sterek

What happened? Where are you? What’s that sound?” Derek jumped, having momentarily forgotten Scott was on the phone with him because Stiles had started moving. He’d stalked over to the other side of the cave, still eying Derek warily and growling, then settled protectively over a mass of clothes, leaves and animal innards. It was probably where he was sleeping. Lovely. No wonder he smelled like death. “Stiles,” Derek said, answering Scott’s question. Or, one of them, at least. “Stiles? What do you—Stiles is making that noise?” “Yes.” “Why?” “How fast do you think you can make it to the south lot of the Preserve?”

*Looking for that Stiles whump?

I'll Be With You Through The Dark by the_misfortune_teller (Complete: 61/61| 138,101) --Sterek

"Me and Scott talk about everything, about all my poor decisions.” “So I’m a poor decision?” “Probably, yes. Considering how you rudely threw me out of your apartment the other day after convincing me to kiss you and admit that I like you." ~ Set post Season 2 finale. Stiles is having a rough time at home and finds himself going to Derek for help in Scott's absence. He doesn't expect for Derek to end up turning to him for support, leading to something more than just friendship between them. Slow, slow, fluffy slow build!

*Based on the spoilers that just keep on coming, this is very likely to be canon divergent for s3!*

I Think the Problem Here is There's Nothing Wrong by wait_for_it (Complete: 1/1| 5,156) --Sterek

"Stiles wasn’t really sure what was going on, but if he had to guess, he’d say Derek Hale was losing his touch. The amount of times he’d been called out with the guy, presumably to stake out some new supernatural baddie only to have it be a false alarm, was starting to inch into the double digits."

In which Stiles and Derek are dating and everyone knows it. Except Stiles.

The One You Choose by Livinginfictions (Complete: 7/7| 13,440) --Sterek

Stiles hadn’t seen Scott in over a week, except for glances he caught during school hours.

How I Long For Yesterday by sweetbutterbliss (Complete: 1/1| 6,017) --Sterek

Stiles blinks, his throat going dry, and he moves his thumb without thinking - liking the post. He feels a surge of petty satisfaction. At least the fucker will know he knows now. He stands up, his body feeling too heavy, and he blows out the already guttering candles. He lets out a sob of frustration when the last one won't fucking blow out. But he sucks it back in and bites down on his tongue, using his thumb and forefinger instead.

He throws himself into their empty bed without undressing. He lies there repeating the words 'Derek blew me off for Isaac' over and over. He tells himself to shut up while rearranging his pillow violently, but he goes to sleep with the refrain continuing its painful loop.

And You Say You're Alone by taelynhawker (Complete: 1/1| 30,314) --Sterek

Between the kanima, the Argents, and Peter's untimely return from the dead, everything has fallen apart. Stiles and Derek try to put their lives back together once the crisis has passed. Stiles deals with the aftermath of being tortured, and the distance growing between he and Scott. Derek attempts to become a stronger alpha and keep his pack safe, and that includes Stiles.

Can't Take the Heat? by Ilovesocks_24 (Complete: 15/15| 55,425) --Sterek/ --Chef!Stiles Chef!Derek

Hi, I’m Stiles, and what I have for you today is…”

“Stop, just stop.” Grumpy Eyebrows interrupted. “That is honestly the worst looking Pasta Primavera I have ever seen. I don’t even want to eat it, it looks so bad.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes. No one insulted his creamy bacon carbonara without even trying it. And no one insulted his creamy bacon carbonara after they tried it either. “It’s actually a Creamy Bacon Carbonara, asshole,” Stiles snapped. “And for the record, it’s supposed to look like that.”

Or the one where Stiles is a new sous chef at Full Moon Steakhouse and Derek is the Gordon Ramsay of all head chefs. So of course they fall in love.

*This is one of my favorites

Love Runs Wild by DevilDoll for neptunepirate (Complete: 1/1| 9,494) --Sterek/ Neckz 'n' Throats

"You've got a hickey on the back of your neck!" A Neckz 'n Throats story.

If I Could Trade Mistakes For Sheep, Count Me Away Before You Sleep by alisaj (Complete: 1/1| 33,383) --Sterek

"Thing is, Stiles," Derek says, his voice hard and unfaltering. "I didn't sign up for you. You just hung around until we got used to you being here."

That stings. He hadn't realised how Derek feels about him. They've been getting on quite well, teaming up on little missions and bantering back and forth without malice. Stiles sometimes lets Derek crash in his room after a big fight, trying not to let on how intriguing he finds the werewolf.

"Well now we can get used to you not being here. You're a liability, Stilinski. You can't protect yourself and we always end up having to help you when we've got more important things to do. You're out of the pack."

The one where Derek is a terrible Alpha and Stiles ends up walking into a big pile of shit.

Teach Me How Love Goes by RoseByAnyOtherName17 (Complete: 1/1| 9,482) --Sterek

Derek asks Stiles to have sex with him. Stiles says no, because he doesn't want to get his heart broken again. Somehow it happens anyways, but really, it's his own fault. He's the one who fell in love with Derek against despite knowing how bad an idea it was.

a taste for the forbidden by demonicweirdo (Complete: 1/1| 5,982) --Sterek

Stiles narrows his eyes. “I haven’t been doing anything to you.”

“Bullshit,” Derek snaps.

The air in the room grows colder. “I swear it. The only magic I’ve used around you is to make your crops grow!” Stiles takes a step away. “How could you think that I would… You know what? Screw you, buddy. I’m sick of walking in circles around you.” His words are sharp and annoyed, and his shoulders are tense, as though he’s preparing for a fight. “You feel something for me? Wow, it must be sorcery! Because - what? I’m not good enough for your feelings, Derek?” he snarls.

Hello, Heartbreaker by astoryaboutwar (Complete: 1/1| 18,472) --Sterek

It’s a popular joke among Alphas: fuck an Omega, get heartbreak on your hands. Omegas are fragile little emotional things, needy and whiny. Stiles refuses to become that, or to believe that he’s anything like that.

Stiles and Derek have been fuckbuddies for a while when Derek loses his memories of the past three years - and them - in an accident. (Also - everyone's a werewolf, and everyone's alive.)

Bruises and Bitemarks by orphan_account (Complete: 27/27| 121,566) --Sterek

Biologically, Stiles is weak. When he presented as an omega, he knew that to be the truth but that never stopped him from running his mouth as a defense mechanism. However, it could only save him so many times before he ended up pissing off the wrong person. After he's attacked in the parking lot outside of school, Stiles realizes he can no longer protect himself with just pure wit and sarcasm. When the attack lands him in the hospital, his dad forces him to pick between two options, report the alphas who attacked him or join a kickboxing gym run by omega rights activist and alpha, Derek Hale, a man Stiles has been in love with for many years. *Now includes an extended chapter featuring Nate/Jupiter*

I know that you love me, even when I lose my head by LunaCanisLupus_22 (Complete: 13/13| 135,577) --Sterek

“We’re not mates, Cora,” he insists. “I mean look at him-“

“Ouch,” the kid says, no longer pushing that shit eating grin.

“He’s- he’s,” Derek tries, at a loss of how to explain why this can’t be possible. Why it shouldn’t be possible. Or the one where Derek gets attacked by hunters, ends up with amnesia and forgets Stiles is his mate

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earthbovndmisfit · 5 years

Text

Kiss me, Mister Joestar! (fanfic)

A Victorian gay man is madly in love with the sweetest gentleman. His love for him is so overwhelming that everyone around them seems to have noticed it already, including said gentleman's wife, who our sweet gay icon has become close friends with...

Is Jonathan really /that/ painfully oblivious to it all? Or could there be something more going on...? Whatever it might be, it's driving Robert insane, and things start getting even tougher on the matter for Speedwagon after the birthday party the Joestars threw for him.

A story written for Speedwagon's birthday, as you can tell by now.

Happy belated 156th birthday, you sweet dork!! <3 (posted it on the 16th on Ao3 but forgot to bring it here orz)

* * * * *

Pairings: Jonathan/Erina /&/ Jonathan/Speedwagon

* * * * *

More details and the whole fic under the cut... (if Read Mores don’t work for you and you don’t want to see this post, feel free to block the ;long post tag)

Notes: The story is set in 1889, a little less than a year after the events in PB. It’s also an AU where Jonathan lives. Everything went down the same as in canon, save for the fact that Dio died in Windknight's Lot (or at least he hasn't come back since). Jonathan's and Erina's honeymoon went as smoothly as it should have. Jonathan is also now an archaeologist, working on his many different researches on Aztec culture mainly. The rest more or less remains the same as in canon, including Speedwagon being helplessly in love with Jonathan.

In this story (and any other of my stories involving the Ogre Street gang), the Kenpo Master will be referred to as Li. That's the name I've given him: Li Jiang. I also have this headcanon that "Tattoo" is not the red-head's name, but a nickname he adopted after getting that trademark tattoo on his face (his name being Stephen O’Moore, but he's still addressed as Tattoo most of the time for his own personal reasons anyway).

Fun fact I just realized while writing this story: Just like this year's (2019) Oct 16th fell on a Wednesday, 1889's Oct 16th also fell on a Wednesday (cue a loud OH MY GOD).

Warnings: There’s a depiction of tobacco smoking. There are also a few mentions/depictions of pregnancy, and the usual cursing our dear Robert has us used to. Also “mentions” of period-typical homophobia.

Soft chuckles and giggles could be heard coming from behind the closed doors of the tea room. A bit of a feat, considering how espacious the room was. Inside, two blondes comfortably sat in the large, cushioned, armchairs around the tea table, talking about all sorts of stuff over tea and pastries, filling each other in on the other’s news and sharing a laugh every now and then and just enjoying each other's company like they would normally do on evenings like this. It was getting late, and the time to say goodbye for the night was getting closer.

"I enjoyed spendin' this evenin' with you, Miss Joestar. As always, it was a wonderful one!"

"You don't have to keep up the formalities, Robert. We have been friends for how long now?" She made a brief pause. A rhetorical question that both knew didn't need an answer. "Just call me Erina." A kind smile graced her delicate features. He nodded, still feeling a bit inadequate to address any of the Joestars by their first names, but he couldn’t simply say no to them. "And, the feeling is mutual. It is always a pleasure to have you here. I just wish Jonathan could have been able to join us today."

"He's still workin' on that thesis, isn’t he?" A soft nod of her head was given in response.

"He says he is almost done with it. It is also due next week’s Monday, so he has had to work extra hours on it these past days." There's a sense of pride in her voice despite how much she wished she could have had more time to spend with him as of late.

"I'm completely sure 'is 'ard work 's gonna pay off." It always did. Jonathan was truly a hard working man, not only on the battlefield, but also in everything he did, always giving his all. Not to mention how passionate he was about his field.

"I have no doubts about it. Now, about that week’s Wednesday..."

"Oh. Please, don't burden yourself with that!" The man was quick to reply. "It 's nothin' special at all!"

"Come on. Don't be silly, Robert." The lady offered an even warmer smile and put her hand on top of Robert's as it rested on the table, giving it a soft and friendly squeeze. "It is all the opposite to 'nothing'. And it most certainly is special, too. And I'm completely sure Jonathan thinks so, too." Well, there was no arguing to that as Speedwagon could almost hear the brunet echoing his wife's words while giving Robert a pat to his shoulder. Still…

"But, Miss Joest–" Erina gave him a look and Robert tried again. "Ahh. Sorry... Erina. Blimey. It 's just, I... I wouldn't want t' impose and be a burden t’ any of you..."

"And you won't be. Never have been such, and I assure you that will not be the case either. Besides, this will be the first time we get to celebrate your birthday together, and I know Jonathan is just as excited as if this was his own birthday." She let out a soft chuckle, and she withdrew her hand, placing it this time on top of her pregnant belly. "And I can tell this little one is excited, too." Robert couldn't help a fond smile at all that. He certainly couldn't –and wouldn’t either– let any of the three down in any possible way. Not in this life or the next one (and every other lives that could come after that).

"Alrigh', but only if you're sure this 's not a hindrance t' you or Mister Jo–.... T' Jonathan."

"You have my word on that. Please, come visit us again for the date. And bring your friends, too. The maids will make sure everything is ready for the occasion. You don't have to worry about anything at all besides gracing us with your presence and having fun." She added with such a kind tone to her voice that it made it impossible for Speedwagon to add any "buts" to the conversation.

“I swear you two are too kind t’ me sometimes…”

“You deserve it.” She added with absolute honesty. “You have always done so much for us, and for Jonathan, mainly. It is the least we can do for you.”

“It’s nothin’ grand. I’m just doin’ my part on repayin’ Jojo for all ‘is kindness and everythin’ he’s done for me since we met.”

“You always make it sound like everything you do for us is insignificant, Robert, but I assure you it is not. We truly appreciate all of your actions. And I know you are so very special to Jonathan as much as he is to you.” Robert couldn’t help the blush that was now creeping up to his face, even though Erina voicing that sort of knowledge she had was not new by now. She had long ago found out about his true feelings for Jonathan, never having any issues with it at all.

Erina was fully aware of how easy it was to love Jonathan, and she also knew some of the story between Robert and him. She had also been perceptive enough to understand that there was something more to those apparent “codes” in Robert’s general appearance, which was far different from that of most gentlemen in England. That had been something Robert gladly explained for her as their friendship grew and both became more comfortable around each other, letting her know that, indeed, there was a meaning to them all, and that he had always had a liking for men. Whatever fear or worries he could have had until then about letting her know something as delicate as that faded away almost immediately after informing her of his situation as she never made any sorts of disgusting comments, nor gave him any weird looks nor treated him poorly, like many others would have probably done. All the opposite, all he ever got from her was sympathy without any kinds of judgement, and all her support.

And it never ceased, not even after he finally caved in, some time later, and admitted to her his undying feelings for Jonathan. It didn’t take her by surprise when he did, though. Then again, Robert had always had a tendency to be quite transparent about his feelings for the gentleman even when he tried not to. It had always been crystal clear that his admiration for him went far beyond a simple friendship, and that there was so much more that was still left unsaid. Something deeper. Something vastly more meaningful and everlasting. And she fully supported it.

“I will not take any attempts of refutals, Robert, and you know it.” She promptly added, not allowing him to downplay his own acts of love towards them but, mostly, towards Jonathan once more. The blond let out a soft whine, hoping the pink dusting his face would go away soon.

“You are mean, Erina…” He simply jested this time, leaning back into his chair.

“If that is what is going to take to make you understand just how special you are to us; how special you are to Jonathan, then I will be the meanest lady you will ever meet.” She said, her tone playful, but her words sincere. And Speedwagon could see that very well in her clear blue eyes.

“I truly do not deserve a friend like you.” A soft chuckle in the shape of a huff punctuated his words. He then picked up his cup of tea, sipping the last of it’s contents so he could take his leave.

“You are a wonderful man. You just haven’t realized it yet.”

“Wish I could believe that. I mean, it ‘s not that I doubt you or anythin’!! It ‘s just...” Robert averted his gaze, unconsciously letting his head hang a little. His tone sounded defeated, and Erina could tell the reason why.

“Jojo is fully aware of how wonderful you are, too. He just...” She sighed softly, unable to find the right words for it. “He can be a bit oblivious to the signs if you are not direct or clear enough with him sometimes. Especially at moments like this, when his mind is fully absorbed by something else.” Both remained in silence for a moment. Erina’s soft hand once more offering a reassuring touch to the back of Robert’s scarred one.

“I… know. I… I just wish I ‘ad the guts t’ finally be open with ‘im and just tell ‘im ‘ow I feel.” The man didn’t do much to lift his head, slipping his eyes closed for a moment instead. Erina could feel the muscles in Robert’s hand tensing up a little under her palm, right before he lifted his head. There was pain in his eyes. “I’m scared t’ death that he might find me disgustin’ and will not want t’ see me ever again.”

“Fear of rejection is the most normal thing to feel in this type of situations. The views most people have regarding people with ‘a different taste’ than the rest does not help much on that matter, but it does not mean everyone will turn against you, and I’m almost certain you know that very well after all the experiences you’ve had, and all the people you have met around the globe.” Her tone was soft, reassuring. Even with his lack of an interest in women, it was easy for Robert to see why Jojo loved her so much. “I’m afraid I don’t have the exact answer you are looking for, but I know in my heart that, no matter what, Jojo will never think any less of you.” The pain was still visible in his gaze, but he seemed to be a bit more at ease after hearing that.

“Thank you, Erina. You are an absolute saint.” The woman then shook her head, lightly.

“I beg to differ. I just want you two to be the happiest possible.”

“And you say you’re not a saint, eh…?” Both blondes shared a soft laugh and Erina withdrew her hand once more. “Well, looks like it ‘s time for me t’ go.” Speedwagon stood up from his seat. He straightened his waist coat and adjusted his frock coat before he picked his hat and put it on his head. Erina stood up as well.

“The carriage that will take you home is waiting for you.” To which Robert could only stare at her; his eyes widening a bit and his mouth slightly agape.

“What? Blimey, that won’t be necessary. I can just–”

“I told you before: I will not be taking any negative responses for an answer.” She cut him short with that gentle tone of hers and a matching smile.

“One day, I don’t know ‘ow, but one day I will repay you two for everythin’ you’ve done for me.”

“Until then, please, be kind and accept these small displays of gratitude of ours.” Truly, there was no way they could dislike each other.

It took Robert some effort to convince Erina not to walk him to the main entrance of the mansion, but he did it. He worried too much over her and her pregnancy sometimes. It was almost comical in an endearing way just how much Jonathan and him resembled each other on that matter. However, and all that aside, the truth was that Erina was in her 8th month of pregnancy, almost the 9th, so moving around freely and without getting easily tired was not as simple as before, so she had to take it easy, mostly for the baby’s sake.

Not long after saying their farewells for the night –and Robert saying farewell to little Jojo as well–, and after greeting the coachman that was going to take him home, Robert was finally on the carriage, leaving the Joestar state. As the place began to disappear behind them, one of Speedwagon's hands went up to the chest pocket of his coat. He could feel the squared shape of the envelope Erina had given him earlier that day, shortly after he’d arrived. It was a little letter Jonathan had left for him to make up for his absence that day. He hadn't read it yet, and he was completely sure nothing out of the ordinary was written in it, and yet…

"He really took some time outta 'is day t' write this for me, huh...?" He mused under his breath, and the sole thought made his heart flutter. He was so madly in love with that man it was almost unbelievable.

With that image of Jonathan, as busy as he was, taking some time for him and writing that letter with him in mind, still lingering in his head, Robert leaned back into the cushioned seat of the carriage. He wanted to read the contents of the letter, even if there was nothing more in it than Jojo’s heartfelt apologies for missing his visit and the promise of properly making up for it and seeing him next time, but he knew any attempts of actually reading it would be futile with the lack of proper lighting inside the carriage. He let out a sigh and took his hat off, placing it on the empty seat beside him. He made himself comfortable –as comfortable as a big, 5’11” tall man like him could get in a space like that– and tried to get some sleep.

＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊

About a week later, the same carriage was seen making it’s way back to Liverpool. This time, though, there were two more passengers travelling along. The trip, unlike last time, felt a lot shorter. Probably because this time Robert had his Ogre Street mates with him all along to kill some time. Or maybe because, this time, he knew what Jonathan had wanted to tell him in the letter.

Just as Robert had expected then, there had been nothing particularly grand in it. It had been full to the brim with sincere apologies and all as well filling him in on some of the news of his everyday and stuff about his most recent work. What had made him feel a bit too anxious in anticipation, though, had been a line that Jojo added near the end. Something about a big surprise. Of course, it was a bit too much of a stretch that that could mean… what Robert kind of thought (more like, wished) it could mean, and he knew it. But still, that didn’t make much to ease that feeling that was pooling in the pit of his stomach, and he felt kind of silly about it. Being so excited over something that was most likely not going to happen, was he even for real? He questioned himself over and over again since reading that letter the morning after he’d left the Joestar mansion days ago, and still did now as the three guests were led into the mansion by one of the butlers while another took their baggage to the designated rooms upstairs. The first butler then took them into the banquet hall, where their hosts were awaiting for them.

Even though this was not the first time Tattoo and Li visited the Joestar estate, that didn’t change much that feeling of inadequacy the three of them were always victims of whenever they visited. This place was so huge and imposing. Regardless of the kind nature of Jonathan and Erina, always making them feel welcome, it was near impossible for folks with much less fortunate backgrounds such as the three of them not to feel that way, like they were completely out of place. Never in their lives they would have imagined they would set foot into a majestic place like this unless they were raiding it...

The big double doors of the hall were pushed open by the butler guiding them through the mansion and he stepped aside, so the group could come in. The first thing Robert saw as he stepped into the room was Jonathan’s beautiful smile.

“Robert!” The younger man greeted, excited, waving his hand –manners and 100% proper and sober Victorian etiquette were still not his forte, huh– and rushed towards the newcomers. “You came! I was worried you wouldn’t!”

“There ‘s no way on Earth I’d ever let you down, Jonathan.” Robert took his hat off and offered a gentle smile of his own while secretly trying to hide the soft blush he felt was threatening to creep up to his cheeks at the sight of his favorite gentleman smiling so bright at him. The taller man then grabbed him by his shoulders in a gentle manner, showing just how excited he was to see him again after so long.

“I know, I know!! But still! I was just...worried, you know?” Jonathan rubbed his cheek a little before he loosened his grip and hugged the man instead. Something quite improper, especially between two men, but it was something that Speedwagon couldn't find any reasons to complain about. He returned the hug in a very similar manner, enjoying every second of it, unconsciously memorizing the smell of Jojo’s lotion mixed with his own flowery scent. A true delight to his sensitive nose. "I'm so happy that you're here." His voice was low as there was no need to raise it with how close they were from each other, Jonathan practically whispering those words into his ear. Robert felt his legs go a tad weak, but they didn't give in, mostly thanks to Jonathan’s strong but tender embrace. He knew Tattoo and Li were going to tease him on end about this later but, fuck it, he couldn't care less about that.

“And I am truly ‘appy t’ be ‘ere, you big sap.” He replied in a lighthearted way, adding that last bit in an attempt to play it cool and not completely give himself away, even though he was almost completely sure at this point that everyone in the room –save for the object of his affections, unfortunately– were well aware of the true nature of his feelings for Jonathan. The brunet finally pulled away from the hug and properly greeted Li and Tattoo as well, shaking hands with them and exchanging kind words and genuine smiles. Erina also came to greet them all, in a much more proper manner than her husband, but just as warm and kind as him. Those two were nothing at all like most other rich folks Speedwagon had ever met before.

“How’s little Jojo doin’ today?” Robert asked, his gaze falling down to Erina’s pregnant belly for a moment.

“Wonderfully!” She replied; her smile never fading away. “And quite excited, too. They have been kicking a lot today.”

“They are excited because they knew Uncle Speedwagon was coming today.” Jonathan added as he moved back to Erina’s side, draping an arm around her shoulders. That sweet smile of his in full display once more…

...And Robert couldn’t help the blush on his face. Not just at that beautiful sight, but at what Jonathan had just said.

“Uncle…?” He echoed, and the couple’s smiles grew wider and even warmer.

“That’s correct!” They both said almost in unison.

To think Erina and Jojo considered him good enough for such an important role in their child’s life… Lord, he felt so undeserving.

“I honestly don’t think I’m the most fit for the role, but I’ll ‘appily do my best t’ not disappoint any of you!” The smile gracing his features mirrored those on the couple’s faces in every possible way, showing just how touched he genuinely was. Having known Robert long before Jojo had come into his life, Li and Tattoo found it truly sweet to finally see him being this happy, and surrounded with so much love, even if not everything about it had been going the exact way their mate wished. They knew the kind of man he was underneath that tough and rough exterior he was very well known for in all of the slums, and knew how deserving he truly was of every single ounce of it. Both of them placed a hand on each of Speedwagon’s shoulders as a sign of that, smiling at him and at the Joestars as well, and the man returned the gesture with that genuine smile of his as well.

“We are so happy to hear you say that. Now, please, don’t stand there and come take a seat!” Erina added and walked over to the huge dining table. Jojo led them to it as well. Some of the maids had already come in and were already getting everything ready for the meal, bringing in the dishes for them all to enjoy.

“Hope you have a good appetite today!” Jojo exclaimed as he pulled the chairs out for their guests. “The staff worked hard on all this, so I hope the food is to your taste.” And he finally sat down as well once everyone was in their seats; the maids and butlers putting the many plates of hot food on the table before each one of them and getting everything ready for everyone to enjoy their meals. Once they all had finished their food, they all went outside and took a walk around the majestic gardens surrounding the mansion, enjoying the beautiful views and the still gentle breeze of the first month of Fall.

The reunion went down as smooth as expected so far: A shared high spirit, lots of fun and interesting stories about many different subjects shared by everyone, genuine laughter and smiles, incredibly tasty food (and many different dishes to sink their teeth into, too). A pleasant time they all deserved and had been looking forward to as well.

Low tea time then came, and they were all greeted in the tea room by a different part of the staff working at the mansion. Hot beverages, all sorts of delicious pastries, the perfect lighting. Everything was ready by the time they got there. Everyone took a seat and soon after, the tea was served.

“This ‘as been such a lovely day,” Robert finally said sometime later, visibly touched by the heartwarming gesture of the Joestar couple towards him and his old friends. It was hard to believe that, this exact day, one year ago, he had been spending the day in the streets, just wandering around aimlessly, killing time and causing trouble... “and I wanna thank you both for everythin’. I still don’t know what on Earth did I do so right t’ deserve you both in my life.”

“Just being yourself. That’s what you did.” Jonathan replied with that gentle smile of his aimed at the blond, who was sitting right beside him. Erina nodded. “I don’t think I’ve had the opportunity to say this before, but I think you already know it: You are one of the persons I admire the most. You are so very special, Robert. And I hope you haven't forgotten about the surprise I mentioned in the letter." Jonathan's words, as usual, didn't fail to paint the blond’s cheeks a sweet tone of pink that, hopefully, was not easy to notice. And, the reminder of the letter only served to make that blush last a little longer.

Jojo stood up and walked over to one of the cabinets in the room. From one of the drawers, he pulled something out, something he had previously put in there himself for this moment, and asked Robert to come over, which he did. Everyone's eyes followed them, curious as to what Jonathan had gotten him. Not even Erina knew, as Jonathan had insisted all the time that it was a surprise. Meanwhile, Robert was inwardly pleading for his heart to stop pounding so hard in his chest. Once he was before Jonathan, he was presented with a light-gray small box –though it could very well just be that anything looked small in Jonathan's hands–. It was a bit flat and there was a lavender ribbon on top of it. He nodded, encouraging Robert to open his present right away.

"I hope you like it." The nobleman added, expectant for the other's reaction, watching him open the box, revealing an elegant sterling silver pocket watch –a hunter-case one–, attached to a silver chain. The thing looked so expensive it felt so alien in Robert's hand.

"Jojo, you didn't–"

"I know I didn't have to, but I wanted to." He finished his sentence with a kind smile. "You deserve so much more than this, but I hope you like it nevertheless!"

"Are you kiddin' me? I love it!" He beamed. And he wasn’t lying. He did love it, but not because of how fancy and nice it looked. It was because it was a present from the man he loved so dearly. He could have gotten some cheap trinket from him and his reaction would have been entirely the same.

"I'm so happy to hear that! And there's one more thing. Take a look inside." His index finger pointing at the watch. Robert did as requested and carefully opened it. On the back of the lid there was a set of numbers engraved, written in beautiful cursive. It was… a date?

"Jonathan. This ‘s...?" Jonathan nodded.

"The date of the day we met for the first time." And Robert froze on the spot. Of course, there was the ‘embarrassing’ part attached to the memory –that of Tattoo, Li and him trying to gut Jonathan alive while the young man had been doing nothing but seeking for an antidote to save his Father’s life, something that the three ruffians still felt terrible about–, but there was also a unique feeling to it, as that had also been the day that this man had come into his life, ready to change everything in it for good: His views, his wrecked and reckless ways, his life style and the way he perceived life and the world around him, the way he perceived himself, showing him that he was worth something, showing him that there was so much more to life than what that little underworld in the slums had to offer. The day he had so fiercely fallen for this ‘rich boy’ that was nothing like the rest, the one who was a true gentleman in every possible way. The one that had captivated his heart like no other had and that Robert was absolutely convinced was the one and only love of his life.

The blond couldn’t find any words to say. He was genuinely speechless, with his gaze fixed on the engraving for a little longer as the memories and the swirl of emotions engulfed him whole. It was such a ‘small’ detail, but one that meant the world to him, as it showed and left no doubts about Robert’s importance in Jonathan’s life. The moment he raised his gaze, meeting Jojo’s, his eyes were visibly glassy, and that was something that didn’t escape Jonathan. He didn’t make any comments on it, though, figuring it would make Speedwagon feel uncomfortable and exposed so, instead, he pulled him into a tight hug.

“Happy Birthday, Robert.” He said in a soft voice. Speedwagon leaned into the hug, wrapping his arms around Jojo’s larger frame.

“Thank you… Jojo…” He replied in a similar manner, trying his best to choke down his tears, and doing a fairly decent job at it. When the hug ended, they both went back to the table and enjoyed the rest of the evening along with the rest of their friends and family. Outside, the night had fallen over the vast Liverpool skies.

Ever since this celebration had been planned, it had been agreed by all of them that Robert, Li and Tattoo were staying over for a few days after that. There were plenty of guest rooms in the mansion, so having them over would definitely be no issue at all. Since they weren’t going back to London tonight, there was also no need to rush anything, and so conversations and all sorts of activities went on for a while longer than they usually would on a regular visit. Time went fast by, and it was getting really late. They were all tired after such a long and fun day, so everyone went to their respective bedrooms, ready to call it a day.

“Erina, dear.” Jojo called once they were alone in their room. Something seemed to be bothering him.

“Yes?”

“…It might just be me but, did you notice anything different in Robert later today?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know how to describe it, but it felt like…”

“Like something was off?” She looked at him; her soft hands rested on her belly as she remained sitting on the edge of their bed.

“Yes. Yes, something like that.” He said after a moment of pondering about it. “Do you know what it could possibly be? I don’t recall him mentioning any issues before or anything that could be bothering him.” He inquired, hoping she would know something he didn’t and could tell him about. Maybe the two of them had talked about something that could be troubling him during his previous visit?

Erina let out a soft sigh and lightly shook her head.

“Oh, Jojo.” She looked into her husband’s eyes. Even through the dim light from the oil lamp on the nightstand he could see that look she would always give him whenever he was missing something important that was a bit obvious. It wasn’t a condescending look at all. All the opposite, really. “You have not noticed it yet, have you?”

And her words threw him off. Completely.

“Notice...what?”

“I could tell you, but I think it would be best for you, and for Robert, that you find that answer out for yourself, dear.”

Jonathan continued staring at her; his thick brows knitted together. He was infinitely puzzled still. She stood up and walked towards him. She cupped his face in her hands and gently pulled him closer, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Look. I won’t mind if you want to go and talk with him. Knowing him, I’m sure he is going to be up for a while longer, and I’m convinced he will appreciate your company through the night.” Which was something both knew for sure. It was no secret that Speedwagon was a night owl, and him staying over at someone’s place probably wouldn’t change that the slightest. Jonathan nodded. He then kissed Erina in return before he left.

Meanwhile, a few doors down the hall, in his room, Robert was leaning against the door frame that led to the balcony. He had already taken his coat and waistcoat off, both of which he had left on the footboard of the four poster bed. The turmoil inside his head (and heart) had gotten considerably worse as hours had ticked away, so he had opted for making himself comfortable –as comfortable as one could in that condition– and take a breath of fresh air while, a bit ironically, having a smoke, hoping that would soothe him enough so he could get some sleep later that night. He lit a cigarette and stared outside, softly humming to a tune he had heard some time ago, when he visited the Caribbean. His room had quite a nice view of the gardens their whole group had walked through earlier. They looked so different under the moonlight, but still as beautiful as before. It was a really nice change from the urban landscapes he was so used to back in London. He remained like that for a moment, enjoying the chilly but gentle wind of Fall. His tie was undone, and his shirt was open, allowing that chilly wind to gently brush against the exposed skin of his scarred chest. He put the cigarette between his lips and slipped a hand into the pocket of his trousers, producing the silver pocket watch Jonathan had given him earlier, idly fiddling with it and running his fingers over the smooth surface as he took a drag of his cigarette. His gaze was fixed on the timepiece now and he could see the way the moonlight shone so beautiful on it’s surface. His mind, suddenly, decided to go back to earlier that day, to that moment when Jonathan had hugged him for the second time, and he felt that rush of emotions strike him all over again.

“You’re such a bloody fool, Robert…” He whispered to himself. Being so madly in love with a nobleman. And not just that, but a married gentleman. His friend’s husband at that. And, while said friend was absolutely okay with those tender feelings he had for him, and even encouraged him to take the next step whenever he felt ready for it, if he ever did, he still felt so silly about it all. He had no leads that Jonathan was… well, like that. No leads or hints that he had somewhat of a taste for men, like an invert man such as Robert did. And not just that, but he was also scared to death of not only being rejected by the man he loved, but he was also scared of being seen by him as nothing but a disgusting pervert as well. The sole idea of Jonathan telling him that he didn’t want anything to do with him anymore was frightening and painful enough to make the former thug want to keep his mouth and heart shut as much as he could, as much as it hurt. He’d rather remain a close friend and be by his side always, until the very end, than risk losing him forever…

A soft knock on his room’s door echoed through the room, dragging him back to the present time.

“C’mon in.” Speedwagon raised his voice enough for the visitor to hear and slipped the watch back into his pocket. He looked over his shoulder when he heard the door open and then click shut a second later. Even in the darkness that was engulfing the room now that the oil lamps were off, he could still make out the huge silhouette of the Joestar heir walking towards him. The blond turned on his heels, failing to realize just how ‘improper’ he must have been looking at the time (etiquette wasn’t always his forte, especially with an upbringing like his and the fact that he was still a man from the worst part of the slums). “Oi, Jojo.” He greeted, raising his hand a little.

“H-Hey.” He said once he got to Speedwagon’s side, mirroring that gesture.

“I thought you were with Erina. ‘s somethin’ the matter?” He asked, genuinely curious, and even a tad worried.

“No, no. Everything is fine! I mean, not everything, but yes. Just...”

“Are you sure? ‘cause this ‘s definitely not like you.” His concern growing deeper. “Do you need t’ talk, perhaps?”

“Yeah, I guess...” His voice trailed off. He looked, and sounded, so lost for a moment. Robert had no clue what this was all about, but he was going to try his best to be of aid. “It’s about earlier…”

Oh…

“Yeah…? What ‘bout it?”

“I couldn’t help but notice that something was kind of, well, off with you…”

“...”

“Erina noticed it, too. I tried to ask her about it. She seems to know something, but she wouldn’t tell me anything. She said it would be best for us to talk.”

Robert couldn’t help a soft chuckle, exhaling a bit of smoke in the process.

“Don’t get me wrong for what I’m ‘bout t’ say, please, but that woman ‘s an absolute angel. I can truly see why you love ‘er so much.” He admitted as he looked away into the horizon once more. Jonathan smiled in response, finding no fails or lies in that whole statement about his sweet Erina. His gaze followed Robert’s and, after a moment of silence and even a little of hesitation, he tried again.

“So…? Something’s been bothering you…?” He asked cautiously, not wishing to upset Speedwagon in any possible way. The blond hesitated to respond, taking a couple seconds to think, and re-think, his answer. He suddenly felt cold, as if his blood had been drained from his body, and a chill ran down his spine as realization fell down on him. There was no turning back now, was it?

“...It ‘s not like there’s somethin’ botherin’ me per se… It s just… somethin’ else. Somethin’ that’s been goin’ on for quite a long time now and that I, shamefully, ‘aven’t had the ballocks t’ be frank ‘bout it.” He admitted, unconsciously taking another drag of his cigarette before putting it off on the ashtray that was sitting on top of the bureau by the door. Jonathan’s face was colored in concern after hearing those words. It had to be something quite undesirable if it had lasted for so long while also making Speedwagon want to keep his mouth shut on the matter all this time, he figured.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner about it?” His voice reflecting that same concern that was plastered all over his face. “I would have helped you out as soon as you told me!” There was a tinge of pain in Robert’s features, and the moonlight made sure Jonathan didn’t miss that as the shorter man turned to look at him.

“Haven’t you noticed it yet, Jojo...?” The brunet remained silent, trying to piece it all together.

“I…” He stammered. Robert gulped hard and locked eyes with him. It was now or never, right? Right.

“I love you.”

“What…?”

“You ‘eard me right!” He nearly shouted. “I love you, Jonathan…! I love you so damn much! And I always ‘ave ever since you came into my life all that time ago...” He said, trying to keep himself collected as much as he could. His fists were clenched into tight balls at his sides while hot tears threatened him, stinging his eyes. Jojo stared at him, wide eyed, and at a complete loss for words. “I’d been keepin’ that t' myself all this time ‘cause… ‘cause I was scared t’ death of losin’ you. I still am!” He took a deep breathe. It was still hard for Robert to conceive that a ruthless gang leader such as himself could be this vulnerable before someone else, but here he was, exposing himself once more, though in a completely open manner this time for a change, confessing all those feelings he had tried so hard to keep to himself. “I don’t expect you t’ return my feelings. Bloody ‘ell, I will even understand if you don’t wanna see my disgustin’ arse ever again, and I promise I will never show m’self ‘round ‘ere anymore! I just… I just… really ‘ad t’ let all this out somehow before it ate me alive whole...” The pain was almost tangible in his voice as he uttered all those words.

And, suddenly, all those signs Jonathan had seen countless times coming from him before made so much sense. So much more that he couldn’t help but feel so inept, and like the biggest fool around for being so painfully oblivious to it all while even Erina had noticed it so long ago but, also, for having forced himself to keep his own feelings towards this man before him locked away…

“I’m...sorry for disappointin’ you and not bein’ who you thought I was, Mister Joestar…” He spoke again, even shaking a little, and he lowered his eyes, bringing back the formalities now that his chances of being on the list of undesirable people in this household had increased exponentially...

...Or so he thought.

“What on Earth are you talking about!?” The younger male grabbed him by the shoulders, making him raise his head and look back into Jojo’s face. There was a glint of something in his eyes. Something that Speedwagon could not quite read at first but that seemed like… pain? He had no time to ponder too much about it as Jonathan immediately pulled him into yet another tight hug, though, this time he was holding on to him like his very life depended on it, yet careful not to crush him in the process. “There is no way you could ever disappoint me!!” He sounded hurt, and he legitimately was. “The only one I am disappointed with is myself for being so blind and not being able to return your feelings sooner…” He paused, trying to find the right words to voice what was going on through his mind. “...I think I’d known about it all for a bit. I just… didn’t say anything for that same reason: I was afraid of being wrong in my assumptions and losing you forever! And, also, Erina… I… I didn’t know how she would react to the news that I had a special fondness for you, a special fondness as intense as that I have for her, and I didn’t want to make her feel like I didn’t love her anymore, much less now that she is carrying our baby.” The brunet tightened the hug a little; his fingers gently digging into the fabric of Robert’s shirt as he finally opened up, his hot tears rolling down and soaking Robert’s shirt. There was nothing but absolute honesty in his every word, and Robert could easily notice that. “I was so confused because I love her so much, and never have stopped loving her either. At first I was not aware that it was possible to love two different persons in the same manner, and so fiercely, at the same time. It… It took me a while to figure that out on my own and, still, I decided to keep quiet about it because I didn’t know how to bring it up to her, and how to bring it up to you as well. I tried to convince myself that… all of this, all those signs you gave off… as well as everything I was feeling… that it was all in my head. Guess I only made a fool out of myself in the end, didn’t I?”

Robert pulled Jojo away just enough so they could make eye contact once more. It broke his heart to see his gentleman break down like this.

“Jojo... dear. Lord…” He struggled to find the right words to say and could feel his own tears finally rolling down his face. There was so much in what Jonathan had just said that he could relate to in his own way... “You ‘aven’t done anythin’ wrong! Besides… It 's also my fault that you didn’t know for sure just ‘ow much I’ve always loved you until now! And I’m really sorry ‘bout that… I really wish I ‘ad the guts t’ be open with you ‘bout that sooner instead of tryin’ t’ hide it all and pretend nothin’ else was goin’ on...” Both men, remained in silence for a moment, still close to each other. It was then that Jonathan spoke once more.

“I guess… that makes both of us a pair of fools…”

“The biggest of ‘em all, I’m afraid…” Both of them shared a soft laugh despite those tears still wetting their faces; their foreheads pressed together as they did. One of Jojo’s hands went up to tenderly cup Speedwagon’s chin with his thumb and index finger.

“Robert… May I…?”

“Goddamnit, Jojo…” Robert let out a soft huff and cupped Jonathan’s face in his hands; his little smile not fading away the slightest. “Just fuckin’ kiss me…!”

Jonathan tilted Robert’s face slightly to the side, allowing himself a better access. His other hand went to rest on the small of the blond’s back, and he finally pressed their lips together in a long awaited kiss that Robert gladly returned in the same loving manner, both of them pouring into it all those feelings they had been holding back for so long.

They remained in each other’s arms for a little longer after the kiss ended, refusing to let go just like that.

“Would you… stay with me tonight? I mean, only if you think Erina will be alrigh’ with that. I wouldn’t wanna get on ‘er bad side ever.” Robert whispered as he rested his head on Jonathan’s chest. He could hear the soft rumble that was his chuckle. They both knew very well that Erina could be quite scary when she wished to.

“That will be completely alright.” He said with a full smile on his face. “We should go inside, though. It’s getting colder, and I don’t want you to catch a cold or worse!”

“This is nothin’ compared t’ what Ogre Street ‘as me used to, darlin’.”

“Yeah, I suppose so, but... About that, I know that you along with Tattoo and Li have turned down the offer of moving in with us countless times already, but I must insist once more.”

“I told you, dear, we don’t wanna be a nuisance t’ either of you.”

“But you wouldn’t be! Besides… I want. No, I need Erina and you, my two loves, by my side.” Speedwagon let out yet another soft chuckle.

“Blimey... You’re really the biggest daisy I’ve ever met, Jonathan.” He said fondly, “But I will gladly take you up on that this time. Little Jojo might need their Uncle ‘round when they arrive, and I’m sure Erina might appreciate some friendly company as well. And, much like yourself...” He stood on his tiptoes, gently bringing Jojo’s face down by his chin a little. “...I also need my one true love by my side.” His voice soft, sealing those words with yet another kiss under the pale moonlight.

Final notes: This story took so long for me to get it done from start to end, but it's finally here!

This is, I think, the first time I actually write something for the lovely jonaeri/jonawagon ot3~ :'D I also loved writing those bits with Robert and Erina together. They were super fun, and I also loved the idea of Robert happily telling her about the gay codes from that time and just kind of getting her into that little secret world, not only because Erina is the ultimate ally, but also, because, given the taboos in Victorian England, it's pretty much a given that Robert usually had to keep a lot of things from most people, sometimes friends included, so he really appreciates those time whenever he's allowed to be himself and is able to share some of that with others. Needless to say how much I love writing jonawagon and putting them in sweet and cozy scenes~

I can honestly say I'm pleased with how this story turned out, but I would definitely love to hear your thoughts on it!

Feedback, likes, reblogs and everything else (shares outside of Tumblr and Ao3, too) are always encouraged and highly appreciated!!

Thanks for reading!

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