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mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

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To Be My Night And My Day - Part 3

Summary: Hvitserk has been your best friend since childhood, the one you can always rely on. So when you start doubting your current relationship with Sihtric, Hvitserk kindly offers to help you out….but the consequences are never what you expected.

Pairing- Sihtric x Plus Size!Reader & Hvitserk x Plus Size!Reader

Warnings: Angst, implied smut, confessions

Words: 3200

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius @evelynshelby @pomegranates-and-blood @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @geekandbooknerd @adrille88 @dini73 @flowers-in-your-hayr (lemme know if you want to be added or deleted)

Catch up here -- Part 1 / Part 2

The day of the midsummer festival arrived. Garlands of flowers and banners were strung between some of the houses. The flowers saturated the air with their potent aroma, mixing with the smoke from the large bonfires to create a heady scent in the evening air. The rambunctious screams of children and the cheers of old friends celebrating drown out all other sounds. Even the sun as it set over the fjords cast the sky in mesmerizing colors, as if it wanted to join in the revelry below before disappearing. Food and ale were in abundant supply, promising everyone to have their fill, and for many to awake the next morning with regrets due to the pain in their stomachs or heads. Or both.

Yet, you wandered along the streets, feeling alone even amongst the crowd. A smile remained plastered to your face as you moved about. A few times you stopped to greet those you knew and share a few sips of ale with them. You did not linger long though. Soon enough you were back to walking, back to scanning the crowds for two faces in particular, back to ignoring the churning in your gut.

As you maneuvered through the crowd, avoiding sprinting children and a few wandering hands, your mind reminisced that a year ago today was the first time you brought Sihtric to your home. That the two of you made love for the first time. That you shared with him a part of yourself no one else had seen or touched.

Your mind easily recalled how he was so gentle with you that night, treating you like a queen whom he willingly served to his utmost ability. Each caress, each kiss, each word of praise and compliment painted your skin while his musky scent and husky voice infused itself into your soul. Then as you made love, for there was no other description for it, you felt your heart fully open to him like a flower desperate for the sun's rays.

Afterwards, you laid together on your bed, silly smiles on both of your faces, wholly sated and sweaty. Neither of you with any intention of leaving. There he asked you to be his. His woman. His lover.

And you agreed immediately.

Under the festival's banners and the fading sun, your hands smoothed down the fabric of your dress as you walked. You had been working on this dress for the past several months by candlelight once Sihtric had fallen asleep. It was meant to be a surprise for him, a gift in a way. The color of the fabric was a deep forest green, his favorite color. It hugged you tight like a lover's embrace, showing your plump figure. Something you never would have done in the past. But for Sihtric you would….because you knew he loved your body and you wanted to look good for him. For with the way the dress was cut and showcased certain assets on your body, you knew he would thoroughly enjoy peeling you out of it later.

Tonight you were supposed to be at Sihtric's side, laughing and drinking with him. You were supposed to feel beautiful with his appreciative gaze and grabby hands. You were supposed to feel happy amongst your friends as you celebrated another year blessed by the gods.

Yet you were alone.

And all you could feel was despair.

Up ahead, you could see Queen Aslaug and Ubbe, sipping on horns as they watched the crowd, whispering to one another. When Ubbe caught your eye, he smiled brightly and motioned you over. You might have been able to keep your facade before Ubbe, teasing him about his latest lover or listening to him tell an embarrassing story of his brothers. He would throw his arm over your shoulders, letting you lay your head against him and steal sips of ale from his horn. He had told you more than once you were the sister he always wished for. A compliment you took to heart.

But you knew the queen would be able to see through your illusion within a second. The fake happiness you wore as a cloak to hide your true feelings, drawn back beneath her penetrating gaze, leaving you exposed. Somehow the woman had always been able to read you too well, even when you were a child. As you sat amongst the brothers at the table eating, when you occasionally joined them, they would be talking, or more likely arguing, your mind would be far away reliving the negative comments or looks thrown at you earlier in the day. Without a word, she would reach over and grasp your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Reminding you that those people's opinions were not the ones you should focus on. That your friends, your found family, their opinions matter more. Even now as you stood across the street, when her eyes met yours, there was a knowing weight there that made your heart clench painfully.

So instead, you shook your head and gave them a brief smile before disappearing into the crowd once more. You had hoped to see Sihtric or Hvitserk, to try and talk sense into them, to just see their faces and pretend for a moment that you had not monumentally screwed everything up. But as you wandered down the various streets, neither the blond prince or the dark-haired Viking seemed to be attending.

After a final glance around, with tears threatening to escape their confines and a churning of acid in your stomach that refused to settle, you turned your back and started towards the docks. You always found peace listening to the waves on the shore. The repetitive sound and motion, the salty air, the cool breeze on your skin, the sand beneath you, it all helped clear away the worries and fears in your mind for a time. And that was something you sorely needed right now.

You continued through the revelry, like a ghost among the living, threading your way towards the docks. You stopped when a hand landed on your arm, reaching out of the shadows and stilling your movements. With an excuse of exhaustion on your lips, you turned to deliver it to whomever it was seeking your attention.

Only for it to dissipate when your gaze met those dark eyes that enchanted you, that held your secrets, that you found solace in.

"Sihtric?" You breathed out. The churning in your stomach momentarily silenced under his gaze.

Those dark eyes scanned you from head to toe, not missing an inch of skin or curve of your body exposed in your dress. With the intensity of his gaze, a shiver raced down your spine and caused your breath to catch in your throat.

"You look beautiful." He softly murmured. With the lightness of a butterfly's wing, he reached up to trace your cheek and down your jawline. Unconsciously, your eyelids fluttered, threatening to close under the sheer bliss from his touch alone. He chuckled huskily, making your eyes snap open and your heart to skip at the sound.

"Thank you." You responded, equally as quiet.

The both of you stood there, somehow your hands now laying on his chest and his on your hips. You knew you should say something instead of staring at him like a lovestruck fool; but you were too caught in a daze from finally finding him, after days of your heart yearning for him. And with the way he was staring at you...you wondered if he felt the same.

"Can….can we talk?"

You nodded. "Of course."

He gently took your hand in his, pressing a lingering kiss to the palm of your hand, making your heart beat a rapid tempo in response. Silently he guided you through the crowd, away from the festival. A couple of times, you heard the call of your name or Sihtric's, friends hoping you would join them. Every time his feet never faulted, continuing onward, leading you away. He would wave a hand at them, calling out that the two of you were retiring for the night.

For the first time that day, the smile you wore was genuine. Not a hint of fictitious joy to be found. And whenever Sihtric would catch your eye and grin or wink at you….your smile only grew wider.

It was several minutes before you realized he was leading you back to your home. Privacy and quiet was what he most likely were looking for and that was guaranteed at your home right now. It was now though as you approached, your mind could see through the mental haze and began to question what he wanted to speak to you about.

Releasing your hand, he opened the door and stepped through. Yet you lingered for a moment on the threshold. There was something in you that knew, after this moment, after this talk, nothing would ever be the same. But would it bring you joy or heartbreak was unknown.

With a deep breath, you willed your heart to settle as you followed him inside. You first noticed the fire in the hearth was alive and dancing, casting light and shadows around the main room. For a brief moment you questioned your own sanity, for you were certain you had not left it like that. You always doused the flames before leaving your home. There were one too many stories of the negligence of others forgetting about their fire and their home turning to ash. Something you never wanted to experience personally.

The second thing you noticed was the blond prince sitting next to your small table, clad only in trousers and loose shirt, his legs stretched out before him. His green eyes were trained on you, first taking in your form through your dress before settling on your face. His pointer finger drummed repetitively on the cup he held in hand. At any other time, this scene would have been normal. He would probably be over demanding food and cuddles. But now, with the tension you could see in his form, it was anything but relaxed.

Your head whipped around to stare at Sihtric, your stomach doing somersaults and your traitorous heart racing like a horse. "What is going on?"

With a glance at Hvitserk, the dark-haired Viking stepped closer. His hand moved to cup your cheek, forcing you to stare only at him. "You love me?"

"Yes." You murmured.

He nodded once. "But you also love him."

This time when you answered, there was a tremble in your voice; not because your answer was untruthful, but from the pain you knew it carried with it. "Yes."

"How?"

You blinked owlishly for a moment. The question did not startle you, for it was a logical question. What caused your hesitation, your momentary lapse of thought, was that this was the very question you had been wrestling with ever since Hvitserk walked out after confessing his love to you. Amongst your sobbing and sleepless nights, you pondered how it could be. How could your heart yearn for both of them so earnestly? How could the very thought of your life without one or the other fill you with such dread?

As your mind fumbled, tripping over your chaotic thoughts like unearthed roots in a forest, Sihtric drew back from you. With a resigned glint in his eyes, he turned and walked over to the small table, taking the seat opposite of Hvitserk.

Both men faced you, their gazes solely locked on you like you were a mystery needing to be solved. It was here you truly realized how very different they were. One was a blond prince, someone you had known almost your whole life and had become a safe haven for when the world became too much. The other was a dark-haired bastard, someone who you had only known for a while but showed up like a shooting star amongst your darkest of nights.

So how could you love them both equally?

How could you explain it in a way they would understand?

"Because, Sihtric, you are my night." You stated with finality, meeting the gaze of your lover. After a moment, you turned to look at your best friend. "And, Hvitserk, you are my day. I need you both."

"That makes no sense." Hvitserk complained, then drained the cup in hand quickly. Only when he reached to refill his cup, did you notice the pitcher on the small table and the second cup near Sihtric's elbow. Absent-mindedly, you wondered how long the two of them had been sitting in your home drinking together while you were at the festival searching for them.

Running a hand over your dress, you took a second to gather your thoughts before speaking. The gazes of both men were still on you. Hvitserk tapped on his cup with his forefinger, a habit he did when thinking or listening intently. Sihtric sat frozen, unmoving like a statue, his full attention on you. Silently, you sent a plea to the gods that your words would ring true and turn their hearts from violence.

"Sihtric, you are my night. You are the peace in my storm, my quiet moments of solace. You are my comforting walks along the shoreline, holding hands and listening to the waves. You are my late-night talks, my confessions in the dark. You are the only one who truly understands what it was to be alone, to be an outcast amongst your own family. You have truly made me feel wanted and beautiful and happy, when I could only see loneliness in my future before I met you."

Tears in your eyes and heart held in the palm of your hands, you smiled faintly at your lover before shifting your gaze to your best friend.

"Hvitserk, you are my day. You are the joy in the sunlight. You are my silly adventures and learning to lie so as to avoid your mother's wrath. You are the laughter that always bubbles up in me whenever we are together. Yet you are my strength, without you I would not be here. You are the one to always encourage me, to ignore the comments and keep my head up high. You are the reason I can walk in Kattegat without a care, because their snide opinions hold no control over me anymore."

No longer could you hold the tears back, staining your cheeks as they slid down. You sniffled, trying to wipe them away with the sleeve of your dress, only for them to be replaced with your next heartbeat.

"I'm so sorry," you continued when you were certain your voice would not crack, "I don't know how else to explain it. I love you both….for different reasons. I know it makes me selfish. I know I don't deserve either one of you. Especially now. I hope one day you can forgive me….but I cannot choose between you. I can't. It would be like choosing which eye I wish to keep. I can live with only one, but having both makes me better, makes me happier. I'm so sorry."

Silence descended over the small room like a wet blanket, leaving you struggling to breath between their scrutiny and the tears streaming down your cheeks. Only the crackling of the fire could be heard and even it seemed to sense the intensity of the moment.

This was it. The time you had been waiting for. When they both would walk away and leave you alone. Not that you would blame them or try to stop them. It was what you deserved.

The two Vikings shared a meaningful look, an unspoken conversation passed between them, dark eyes meeting green ones. Hvitserk tilted his head to the side with raised brows, the faintest hint of a smirk teasing his lips. A long exhale escaped Sihtric as his gaze dropped to the table for a second before jerking it back up to meet the prince's. He nodded and they both faced you once again.

"This is it? Nothing can change your mind?" Hvitserk softly asked.

You shook your head. "I'm sorry."

Hvitserk smirked. "We figured as much." He took a sip of his drink, carefully setting it on the table after. "We have talked….neither of us wish to lose you. Thus, we have a choice for you."

"Yes?"

"Would you be willing for us to share you?"

Your thoughts tossed and turned like a rowboat stuck in the raging seas. Never had you thought of that option. You knew of others who had shared and had heard their stories of what it was like to have two lovers, but you never considered that for yourself. Mostly because you never thought more than one person would ever be interested in you anyway.

Your prior tears forgotten, you stumbled over your words as you watched both men. "I….truly? You would be willing….to share….me?" A part of you wondered if this was some kind of joke, something to raise your hopes only to dash them away

Sihtric rubbed a hand along his jawline. "We can try."

"How….how would that….it work?"

"Well, tonight we figured we could have a trial run, if you agree." Hvitserk said casually, as if you were discussing the weather or what he wanted to eat for dinner.

Your mind continued to whirl with thoughts and questions. For surely there were certain things which would need to be discussed beforehand. Would others know of this….arrangement? What would happen if this fell apart? Curtly, you shook your head, hoping to dislodge the worries and fears. For once you wanted to live in the moment, and take the hand outstretched before you. Let the morning light bring its own concerns.

With a confidence you were unsure you truly felt, you straightened as you stood before them. "Yes. I want to do this."

Hvitserk chuckled as he leaned back in his seat again, that damn smirk beaming from his face, causing butterflies in your belly to dance.

"Good." Sihtric leaned forward, elbows on his knees. Before your eyes, you watched the heat grow in his dark gaze, transforming from stoic to hungry in a way that made your breath hitch. "Take your clothes off."

Your core clenched at the way his voice dropped while giving the command. A low simmer of desire sparked in your belly at the covetous look in his eyes. Your gaze shifted to the blond, only to be met with a wicked, primal stare that sent a shiver down your spine. Standing before them both, you felt a lamb before two ravenous wolves. Ones that would only feast on your flesh after they toyed with you, played with you, and made you cry out and beg for relief.

With hands shaking, not from trepidation but anticipation and excitement, your hands made quick work of the ties of your dress. Desire tightened a knot in your stomach and caused arousal to bloom between your legs. In the next moment, your dress dropped, pooling at your feet, leaving you naked before their eyes. Every roll of fat, every stretch mark, every blemish on full display for them. Every curve of your body, your ample breasts and thick thighs exposed in the firelight. Yet all you could see was the way both men drank you in with their starved looks, as if they were at a feast and you were the main course they had been waiting for….and they fully intended to devour to their heart's content.

Sihtric spoke first, almost making your knees buckle due to the low growl of his approval.

"Good girl."

Part 4

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resbangmod · 2 years

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Resbang 2021 Promo #18

Bring Your Alibis

presented by author: @Alcruid [ AO3, FFN ]

with artist: @Adonewithyou [ Insta, Twitter ]

and artist: @sahdah [ Insta, Twitter]

Pairings: Soul/ Maka, Black Star/ Garlic, The Thompsons/ Rhyme

Rating: T, with Murder

Warnings: Mild Existentialism

Summary:

Kid D. Edwards receives an invitation to stingray two weeks at a luxurious hotel located on Death Island. He finds himself struggling to survive among a cast of peculiar characters -- quite literally. A snobby, rich pro gamer, and his butler, a hacker and a detective on his tail, a stoner, several internet celebrities, ever rhyming rappers, a “vampire hunter” and the hotel’s own staff, all have him questioning his sanity. But when someone turns up dead, an isolating storm forces the remaining guests and staff to find the culprit themselves. It’s just a simple Murder Mystery, right?

Please enjoy the story and art previews below the cut!

“It helps if you ask nicely,” Evans says smirking, folding down that newspaper he must have fake-read a thousand times. He thinks he’s being sooo smart. Ha! Maka’s seen that cover so many times already and yet… ugh, she still hadn’t noticed him sitting there behind her. She usually has her eyes on him at all times, but this situation has made it rather difficult.

“You,” Maka says in the angriest voice she can muster. “Don’t think that this murder will keep me from catching you as well.” She gestured between him and her eyes with two fingers. “I’ve got my eye on you.”

“Interesting that you say ‘As well,’“ he says as he challengingly raises his eyebrows.

“...What do you mean?”

He grins. Seeing those teeth of his always pisses her off, because it means he’s going to say something infuriating. “It means that in your eyes, the murderer and me are different people.”

“Absolutely not!” she retorts without delay. “You are also a suspect. I’m considering all possibilities.”

“Me too,” he says, then he points at her in faux shock. “Maybe you’re the murderer!”

“I am not the killer!”

He shrugs. “That’s what the murderer would say, don’t you think?”

“Ugh.”

“Relax, I’m just teasing you. You’re way too ‘righteous’ to kill someone,” he says snickering to himself. Of course Maka knows he was just messing with her, but his sarcasm never fails to rile her up. “Besides, you’ve been watching me the entire time. Neither of us was able to commit a murder under those circumstances.”

He opens his newspaper again, so he can continue his pretend reading. He’s not wrong, but he’s not completely right either. There were moments when they were alone. He even disappeared right before dinner… and yet…

Of all the people in this hotel, he’s still the one person she knows best. Does she think he’s the murderer? Can she trust him?

“Either way,” he says absentmindedly. “You’re having trouble getting into the victim’s room, right?”

“I’m under no obligation to tell you anything.” She folds her arms in defiance, and he snorts.

“Yep, you can’t get into his room, ” He says. Maka hates how he can read her like a book.

“I definitely can! If Tezca–”

“You called?” Finally, the masked receptionist bastard decides to appear. What took him so long?

“Yes, I did.” Maka holds up her chin to Evans like she’s won, and opens her palm to Tezca. “All the keys to all the rooms, if you please.”

“Of course,” Tezca starts excitedly, “I’m unable to do that. That would be a violation of privacy laws, no?” And with that, he flops away into the apparent black hole underneath the desk, leaving Maka stunned and empty handed.

If that wasn’t bad enough, Evans starts his insufferable laughing, unable to contain himself. It’s been a long time since she’s heard him laugh like this, and it just had to be because she’s here looking like an idiot.

“Maka…” he says between laughs, holding his chest as he tries to calm down.

“What?!” she yells angrily. She doesn’t care to wait for whatever he’s going to say. It’ll probably be another insult.

“You’re seriously amazing, you know that?”

“Amazingly idiotic?” she deadpans.

“That too,” he says snickering.

Maka’s not sure if that’s supposed to be a compliment or an insult. She turns away from him and crosses her arms again. Best to just ignore him. No, best to just leave. She’s already spent too much time with him; she has a murder case to solve.

#resbang #resbang 2021 #soul eater #bring your alibis

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fickle-tiction · 3 years

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Birthday Tickles

Brucie Wayne's birthday is considered a big deal within his social circle. Every year he throws a HUGE party the weekend of, and everyone who's anyone shows up. He's never not on the cover of a tabloid the following morning. He's used to it, but he hates it. Sometimes he regrets making up his Brucie Wayne persona, but he knows that it's a necessary evil if he wants to take that extra step to make sure no one ever connects him to the batman.

Bruce is dreading thinking about the party he has to attend this weekend (because, let’s face it, Alfred is the brains of the operation and is the one actually throwing these parties) when he heads into the Hall of Justice. If he didn't spend his nights perched on top of buildings, waiting in silence to hear any sign of crime in Gotham, he wouldn’t have noticed the soft shushing coming from the other side of the meeting room doors. He stops just outside of the doors and strains his ears, noting the suspicious lack of sound coming from the other side of the door. The league is never this quiet. Bruce is bracing himself for a fight, uncomfortably aware of how vulnerable he is without his suit on, when someone let's out a huff on the other side of the door.

"B, you're ruining the surprise. Get in here!" Clark calls out. Under normal circumstances Bruce would scowl and complain about Clark using his x-ray vision on him, but he’s too distracted to care.

Surprise?

‘Oh, please tell me they didn’t.’

Bruce spins on his heel, ready to hightail it out of the manor when Clark speaks up again. “Don’t make me come get you.”

Bruce glares at the door, knowing Clark is watching him and can see it. He waits a few seconds, trying to gather his sanity, before slowly pushing the doors open. He blinks, unmoving, as he’s met with a face-full confetti, courtesy of a smirking Arthur, and shouts of “Surprise!”

Bruce spits out a small mouthful of the brightly colored paper as Diana comes over and wraps him in a hug. “Be thankful, I talked him out of the glitter.” She whispers into his ear, reveling in the amused huff Bruce lets out. It’s almost enough to make up for the fact that he makes no move to hug her back, arms hanging stiffly at his sides.

“Guys, you shouldn’t have.” Bruce says, dead-pan, as Diana releases him. It’s at that moment that he notices the party hats rapidly appearing on everyone’s heads. Bruce glares at the empty air in front of himself just as Barry skids to a stop, party hat clutched in his hands, eyes wide.

“.....Happy birthday?” Barry offers, holding the hat out to Bruce with a hopeful smile on his face. Bruce continues staring at Barry in silence, secretly amused at the way the kid’s eyes start darting around the room, as though he’s plotting his escape.

Just when Barry starts to stammer and take the hat away Bruce reaches out and takes hold of it, effectively shutting the speedster up. “Thank you.” He says dryly, holding the hat in his hands. Upon closer inspection he realizes it’s a justice league themed party hat, the kind stores recently started carrying for kid’s birthday parties, and it’s almost enough to make him laugh, his mouth quirking up to one side against his will. Barry’s eyes go even wider at his smile and he melts back into their small crowd of friends.

“There is no meeting, is there?” Bruce asks Clark, just before he’s enveloped in yet another superpowered hug. What was it with people and hugging him today? Was he losing his menacing edge in his old age?

“Nope!” Clark said, giving Bruce’s stiff form an extra squeeze before laughing and letting him go. “Gosh B, don’t enjoy yourself too much.” He teased, clapping his friend on the shoulder despite Bruce’s narrowed eyes at all the touching. Clark and Diana knew better than anyone that Bruce didn’t actually mind all the touching, he was just bad at reciprocating it so he tended to act like he didn’t want or need it.

Bruce looked at Clark for a few more seconds, as if studying him, before directing his attention back to everyone else. “Thank you.” He said, somehow sounding more sincere this time even though he was still somewhat stiff. “This is...really nice.” And then, as if this wasn’t bizarre enough already, a small smile made it’s way onto Bruce’s face. “But if you come near me with glitter,” He added to Arthur, smile still on his face despite his threatening words. “I will end you.”

The six of them are soon joined by Alfred, who comes in bearing a cake in the shape of the bat symbol. Bruce gives Barry a lopsided smile and a heart attack assuming correctly that it was once again his doing. He scowls his way through a round of off-key “Happy Birthday” and maintains steely eye contact with his amused butler as he blows out the giant question mark candle.

“I feel like we’re forgetting something.” Clark’s smirking as he says it, which is never a good sign. Clark making eye contact with Diana, who is wearing a matching mischievous expression is even worse.

“Birthday punches?” Barry asks, eyebrows furrowed as he licks the last of the icing off his spoon. Judging by their expressions, he’s clearly not in one whatever Clark and Diana have planned.

“A punch from anyone here would end Batsy’s life.” Arthur was smirking at Bruce’s scowl, enjoying teasing the stoic man. “A birthday tickle would probably suit him better.”

“You want to try it and find out?” Bruce asked, voice light but his body stiff as Arthur chuckled and ate another bite of his cake.

"Boys.” Diana called out, and you could practically hear the eyeroll in her voice as she did. Bruce glared at Arthur for a few more seconds, making a mental note to spar with him soon and put him in his place, before looking over at Diana and Clark.

“Your present!” Clark said, practically vibrating with excitement as he held a neatly wrapped package out to Bruce.

“Oh.” They actually managed to surprise Bruce; he hadn’t been expecting a party, let alone a gift. “Thank you.” He fought down the sappy smile that tried to make it’s way onto his face, angling his head down so no one could see it as he began carefully unwrapping the box in his lap.

“OhMyGod” Barry groaned, gaining Bruce’s attention. “Just tear it!”

Just for that, Bruce went even slower, peeling each piece of tape off and making sure not to tear the shiny black paper it was wrapped in. He could see Barry literally vibrating out of the corner of his eye, and it was endlessly amusing. Once he carefully unwrapped what turned out to be a plain black box, Bruce balled the paper up and whipped it at Barry’s head. Barry reflexively caught the ball of paper and pouted at the smirk Bruce was sending his way.

Bruce opened the box, took one look at the contents, and slammed the lid back down. “Thanks.” He said flatly, narrowing his eyes at Clark and Diana’s twin looks of evil glee.

“Master Bruce, show everyone what you’ve got.” Alfred chided, smiling wide at the betrayed look Bruce sent his way.

“Traitor.” Bruce scowled, even as he opened the box back up. He gave Clark and Diana one more dirty look before he pulled six neatly folded t-shirts out of the box.

The top shirt was designed to look like the top half of Wonder Woman, so when he put it on it’d look like he was wearing a bad costume, exposed skin and all. Beneath that was a shirt that looked like the top half of Superman’s costume, complete with fake abs. There was one for each of their superhero personas; even Victor laughed when he held up the Cyborg shirt.

All in all, Bruce is a surprisingly good sport throughout the small party. His hat remains untouched on the edge of the table, but no one mentions it. His shirts found their way back into the box they came in, but unlike the hat they’d be going back to the lake house with him. Not that anyone needed to know that.

Alfred excused himself to another room as the party wound down, and Victor nodded his good bye. Arthur clapped Bruce on the shoulder as he left, harder than was strictly necessary, and oh Bruce was going to wreck him in a sparring match pretty soon.

Barry approached Bruce next, smiling nervously, his hands twitching at his sides as if he didn’t know what to do with them. “Bye Bruce--uh--happy birthday!” He stammered, making an aborted motion to clap Bruce on the shoulder like Arthur had, his hand darting back down to his side before it made contact. Bruce’s mouth twitched up into another rare smile before he reached out and wrapped Barry in a quick hug.

Bruce simply said “Thanks.” as he pulled back, almost losing his composure at Barry’s gob-smacked expression. The speedster mumbled something unintelligible before streaking out of the room.

“You have to stop messing with him.” Clark laughed. “You’re going to give him a heart attack.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Bruce said innocently, sitting on the edge of the meeting table since it was just the three of them left. “Thanks for this.” He added, a soft smile on his face as Diana came up and leaned a hip on the table next to his knee. “It was nice.”

“There was one part of this party I did not understand.” Bruce was instantly suspicious of Diana’s tone. That was her “I’m going to pretend to misunderstand something so I can mess with Bruce” voice. A voice he’s heard way too many times. “What are ‘Birthday Tickles’?”

And now Clark was standing on Bruce’s other side, and they were effectively boxing him in. His only escape would be to climb over the large meeting table, which would be ridiculous and undignified.

“That’s not a real thing.” Bruce said, valiantly resisting the urge to fold his arms over his chest.

“Really?” Diana asked, her hand coming to rest lightly on Bruce’s knee. “Arthur seemed so sure of it.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be ticklish, would you Bruce?” Clark asked, looming over Bruce with a mischievous smile on his face.

“What do you think?” Bruce asked, forcing himself to stay still even as Diana’s fingers gently danced around his kneecap.

“I think...” Clark’s hand had found it’s way to Bruce’s right knee, and Bruce was regretting sticking around for his own birthday party now. “You forget that I can hear your heartbeat.”

Bruce slowly met Clark’s eyes and knew that he was screwed. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest, the only sign that he was nervous. There were a few seconds of absolute stillness from the three of them, before all hell broke loose.

Bruce tried to throw himself backwards over the table he was sitting on, dignity be damned. As soon as he tried to make a move Clark and Diana simultaneously each grabbed a thigh and dragged him back towards themselves. Before he could really register what was happening, Bruce found himself laying on his back on the table, his legs dangling over the edge, shirt riding up and four hands wiggling all over his torso.

“This-is-so-childish!” Bruce ground out through clenched teeth, trying to catch the fast-moving hands. Because his legs were bent over the edge of the table and couldn’t reach the ground, he had no leverage and thus couldn’t go anywhere.

“We wouldn’t be forced to do this, if you just smiled more.” Diana said, as though it were a travesty that Bruce forced them to tickle him.

“Yeah B, you brought this one on yourself.” Clark was trying to sound sad, but he had a huge dorky smile on his face and it was ruining the affect.

“M’not even ticklish.” Bruce protested, squirming away from Clark’s fingers that were being lightly dragged over his bare side.

“If you weren’t ticklish you wouldn’t be fighting this hard.” Clark pointed out, trying to find the spot that would crack the bat.

“Shut up.” Was Bruce’s oh-so-original comeback. He jolted when Diana pinched the muscle above his left knee, reflexively sitting up slightly to knock her hands away.

“We’ve got him.” Diana grinned triumphantly.

“Don’t--!” Was all Bruce could get out before Diana and Clark both started pinching and squeezing the muscle above his knee. He clamped his mouth shut, trying to keep his laughter in as Clark gently squeezed his way up to the muscles in Bruce’s thigh. That, coupled with Diana switching to tickling under his knee had him breaking in no time.

“Guys!” Bruce laughed as Clark pushed him back onto the table with one hand, as his other hand kept up it’s steady and gentle massage of his thigh muscle. “Guys! G-hahahahahaha-guys!” Bruce babbled, head thrown back as laughter was forced from his throat. “Kn-hahahahaha-knock it ohohohohoh-off!”

“I thought you weren’t ticklish.” Diana smirked. Taking advantage of the fact that Clark was holding Bruce down with one hand, she gently wiggled her fingers up Bruce’s thigh and over his hips. When she got to the delicate skin just above Bruce’s hipbones he squeaked, earing them some extra attention.

“Th-hihihihihi-this is bullsh--hihihihihi--it!” Bruce laughed, trying to fight against Clark’s hand on his chest as Diana teased and tickled the very bottom of his stomach.

“What’s wrong B?” Clark asked, alternating legs as he switched from gentle squeezes to light wiggles of his fingers. “Something bothering you?”

“He’s not ticklish, so it can’t be that.” Diana was now tickling slowly but steadily up Bruce’s sides, making her way under his shirt and tormenting bare skin.

“I ha--hahahahahaha--te you both!” Bruce cackled, cheeks turning pink as Diana used her nails to lightly scratch over every bit of skin she could reach.

“Well that’s not something someone who wants mercy should be saying.” Clark smirked, quickly abandoning Bruce’s legs to latch onto his hipbones. Bruce nearly shot off the table the second Clark’s hand left his chest, but he couldn’t push past the two of them hovering over him.

“Do you think his feet are ticklish?” Diana asked, trying to wiggle her fingers beneath Bruce’s tightly clamped down arms.

Bruce started shaking his head back and forth, laughter nearly silent as Diana finally managed to poke her fingers into his uppermost ribs. He had no idea if his feet were ticklish, but judging by the rest of his body, he was sure they would be. “Nonononono.” He mumbled, laughing and trying to curl his body inwards to protect himself from their assault.

“There’s only one way to find out.” Clark said happily, dancing his fingers back down to Bruce’s thighs.

“Nooooo! Please!” Bruce laughed, eyes flying open (Hello, when did they even close?) “Ple--hehehehe-ease! Please!”

“Oh my.” Diana laughed, surprise written on her face as she stopped her assault on Bruce’s ribs. “I think we’ve broken him.” She commented, noting Bruce’s pink face and wide smile.

“Did he just say ‘please’?” Clark asked in disbelief, also stopping his torturous squeezes. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say that.”

Bruce’s body might feel like one giant exposed nerve, and he might be completely worn out from all that laughter, but he still managed to flip Clark the bird.

“Oh, so you do want me to try your feet?” Clark, asked, grabbing hold of Bruce’s calf to raise his foot into the air.

“No!” Bruce shouted, shooting into a sitting position as he tried to yank his leg back.

“Oh, they must be bad.” Clark said gleefully, letting Bruce snatch his foot back. He couldn’t help but laugh at the glare the billionaire was sending his way. Bruce was sitting criss-crossed on the table, arms drawn into himself, cheeks still pink, his hair a mess.

“I don’t know if they are.” Bruce admitted, having caught his breath. “And I don’t want to find out.” He added quickly, as Clark and Diana shared another evil smile.

“Fine.” Diana said, straightening her clothes. “We’ll save it for next time.”

“Next time...?” Bruce asked warily, resisting the urge to scoot himself to the middle of the conference table and out of their reach.

“Next time.” Clark agreed happily.

“There isn’t going to be a next time.” Bruce growled, but the effect was ruined by his messy hair, pink cheeks and rucked up shirt.

Clark and Diana just shared another smile that Bruce was learning to hate. He’d have to start wearing the suit to meetings from now on.

#tickling #fanfiction #tickling fanfction #ticklish!batman #ticklish!brucewayn #ticklish!bruce wayne #superwonderbat #could be friendship or romance #batman #superman #wonder woman #flash #bruce secretly loves barry ok #it's a hill i will die on #platonic love that is

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sinsetcurve · 3 years

Text

JATP FIC RECS

Oneshots-

All Those Little Moments- A series of the individual, chronological threads that make up the tapestry of the love of Julie and Luke.

It’s Always Been You (Even if it’s fake)- Julie Molina is not an idiot. She’s insanely smart and extremely talented. But, she does tend to do idiotic things. The most idiotic being telling her family that she's dating Luke Patterson and is bringing him home for spring break.

Ray and Rose and that Guy Trevor- Ray's POV on Rose's friendship with Trevor, through the years. (In which Trevor is kind of guilty but also kind of innocent.)

Head Over Knees- That one time Alex had an existential crisis over his knees.

Wrap Me Up- Julie is absolutely miserable. She’s caught a nasty flu and is so busy pretending to be fine that she’s totally pushed away everyone who could be taking care of her. Luckily Luke is more than prepared to step in.

Promises Kept- This is a missing scene from the fic We Found Wonderland. You need to read that first to really understand what's going on here. This cover's Luke's reactions to major events towards the end of We Found Wonderland.

I’m Still Breathing- Julie has asthma and when he was alive Reggie did, too. So, Reggie helps her out and cements himself as her big brother.

I’ll Love you There, Too- In her heart, Julie knew that Luke was going to propose eventually, she just didn’t know that it would be so soon, or how nervous he really was to do it.

This Hurt that I’m Holding’s Gettin’ Heavy-When Carlos got home from school Tuesday afternoon, he wasn’t expecting to find one of Julie’s bandmates in his bedroom, studying his bookshelf.

Come Again Bright Days- Julie and Luke haven’t spoken since they graduated from high school. But one night during their senior year of college, they find themselves in the exact same bar for the exact same reason: they were dragged there by their friends in an attempt to make them feel better after their respective break ups.

But Suddenly from somewhere out of the blue, I see a different light around you- Julie and Luke, family friends, end up sick together. While cooped up sick at Julie’s, a little conversation leads to a lot of secrets.

Like You Could Love Me- Julie hadn't slept in almost 48 hours. Luke was waiting for her on the porch when she gets home. Exhaustion + unspoken feelings and things are about to get interesting.

Not So Secret Relationship- Alex and Willie have been secretly dating for about a month and they've had yet to tell their friends about it. Alex decided he's finally ready to come clean to them.

There’s one thing on my mind- home didn't seem like home anymore for luke patterson, and so he was desperate to find a new place to write music. after an especially brutal fight with his mother, he finds himself in front of l.a. books. he isn't expecting to get much out of it, it was solely a last resort. but then he sees her, julie molina, and he ends up coming back every week just to keep seeing her. bookstore au

I’m Gonna pop some tags- Alex thinks working at Julie's family's thrift shop over the summer is going to be a good way to make money while also hanging out with his friends. Good. Easy. Fun. He isn't prepared for the skater who ran him over to be Ray's new hire.

Always- Luke is in love with Julie, and she loves him too. But it's not meant to be, he's been dead 25 years and she has a whole life to live. He wants to know why they can't just rewrite the stars, and eventually she finds a way.

He’s a little into it- Willex Hockey AU where Willie and Alex are on opposite teams.

Do a Kickflip!-It's Spring 1995, and Julie wants to spend some time at the new skate park. Unbeknownst to her, five boys are waiting to turn her summer (and life) for the better. Or! 5 times Julie ran into Sunset Curve, and 1 time she met with them intentionally.

Multi-Chaptered-

This is Where I want to Be- Luke is going through heaven and hell in his life and things take a turn when a especial someone drops unannounced into his life making him question his sanity. OR: Luke has a wicked beauty as his guardian angel and loses his mind

I’ve Got This Crazy Feeling This Isn’t our First Time Around- One second he is rocking the night away, the next he wakes up bloodied and battered in an alleyway. Found by a frantic curly-haired girl, he comes to realise nothing makes sense. He doesn't know where he is, who she is or how he got there, but one thing's for sure: It's not 1995 anymore.

Walk a Mile in my Doodled Shoes-The one where the boys use their newfound possession abilities to help Julie out of jams.

If I was you (I’d wanna be me too)- When Carrie wakes up, the morning after Julie and the Phantoms play the Orpheum, her father is gone. When her father has a breakdown, Carrie is forced to move in with Julie's family, and must confront some uncomfortable truths - about her family, her life, and herself. A house full of ghosts just comes with the package.

Time Of Our Lives- Alex, Reggie and Luke have been given an unexpected new chance at life. Will they fulfil their dreams this time?

We Found Wonderland- At the end of season one Julie isn’t able to save the boys and they are jolted out of existence. But what if there was another way? Julie finds herself back in 1995 with a chance to stop the boys of Sunset Curve from ever dying at all. But will she able to find her way home afterwards? Will she want to? Or has Alice really gone down the rabbit hole this time...

Midnight at Mona’s- Julie Molina expected many things on her impromptu road trip to Texas. She expected Flynn to be confused but ultimately supportive; she expected to relax and gain a new perspective; and she expected (or at least hoped) to rediscover the music she’d lost over the past year. What she did not expect was to be bunking with cranky rancher Luke Patterson, or the mysterious (and quite possibly magical) karaoke bar that would lead them on an adventure full of new friends, dangerous enemies, fun music, and a whole lot of love.

How Wonderful Life is While You’re in the World- Red, White & Royal Blue but Willex.

Our Life is a Playlist- They were best friends, they were family, and Julie had come to believe that they were soulmates. By the time the kids had turned thirteen, life had started teaching them the hardest lessons.

That’s Life- Julie Molina feels invisible most of the time. So what happens when she finds herself unexpectedly "married" to her handsome, popular, longtime-crush, Luke Patterson? She is about to find out. When she and Luke are randomly paired up to work on a project together for their Reproductive Health class, they have to learn to navigate the world of adulthood side-by-side for better or worse. All while dealing with the reality and drama of high school. Julie quickly discovers she's not as invisible as she once thought she was, especially to Luke. Does extra time spent together mean sparks will finally fly between them, or will it all go up in flames?

Don’t forget to support authors by commenting on their works

#please read tags #please comment on these fics!!!#and check out my first rec post. if you guys like these ones you can send requests for fics or even request another list #let me know if there are any mistakes in this list #please tag the authors on here if you know their accounts :)#support the authors!#julie molina #Reggie peters #flynn jatp #alex mercer #ray molina #jatp #julie and the phantoms #carrie wilson #luke patterson #willex #juke

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peanutbutterjelly-pie · 4 years

Text

prompt: Undercover

hosts: @bend-me-shape-me, @helianthus21, @pray4jensen

Dean has been undercover for many times in his life.

FBI agent, Homeland Security officer, reporter, janitor, gym teacher, lunch lady, maintenance guy, minister, private detective, and so on and so on. The list is so long that he's actually more familiar with playing a role when interacting with strangers than being himself.

So when they're on yet another case again and Sam calls him from the local library and tells him to dress up Dean doesn't even think about questioning it.

“Your fanciest clothes,” Sam orders, making it pretty clear there should be no discussion about it. “Designer suit, shiny shoes. And a shave because you're starting to look like a hobo.”

Dean barely lifts an eyebrow. “What do you need me to be? A snobby multimillionaire too good for this world.”

“The snobbiest,” Sam agrees. “It needs to look like the stench of money is following you everywhere.”

And so Dean does as he's told.

A while ago he got himself one of those super expensive Armani or whatever outfits for a case (thanks to Charlie's unlimited credit card no problem at all) and has it stashed in the depths of Baby's trunk ever since. It's only been used once so far considering fake FBI agents or journalists are rarely dressed in designer suits. At least not if they don't want to draw too much unwanted attention to them.

Dean isn't exactly sure the damned thing still fits after all that time, but after a quick shower and shave he gives it a try and finds himself pleasantly surprised when the suit still wraps itself over his body like a glove. Only around the hips it got a bit tight, but if he'd refrain from bending over it should be fine.

And it actually makes his ass look extra great, Dean has to admit. He snaps a quick picture of it and sends it to Cas because he can't help himself. Cas answers immediately with a long string of enthusiastic emojis that are both incredibly sweet, involving lots of hearts, as well as highly inappropriate and Dean loves him even more for it.

He makes a mental note to wear that suit the next time they'll be alone to see how fast the angel would be able to rip the clothes off his body and then he heads out to meet with Sam.

Soon enough he finds himself in front of a jewelry store, with his tall mountain of a brother waiting at the entrance. He is dressed in fancy clothes as well and considering he left their motel room a few hours ago just with his usual plaid attire he obviously went shopping in the meantime. The suit doesn't fit a hundred percent in some places, making it obvious this was a rather quick shopping trip with no time for a proper fitting, but it makes him nonetheless look extra posh too.

“We look good,” Dean remarks with a grin as he stops next to Sam. “Like we could buy all of the world in a heartbeat and still have a couple of millions left as pocket money.”

Sam merely huffs with a fond smile. “If you say so.”

“So what is the situation?” Dean asks, pointing at the store.

“I just got a lead that our annoying spirit might have a connection to a wristband that's on display here,” Sam tells him. “It had belonged to her before she died. And I know it's not much, but I wanna check it out anyway.”

That specific spirit had been annoying them for days now because they were unable to figure out what kept her here in the first place. So Dean will take any lead they can get, no matter how small.

“I'm actually not very optimistic,” Sam explains with a sigh. “But our ghost is showing up here in the area, so it's not a total longshot. We just need to get inside and distract the employees a little.”

“Hence the fancy clothes.” Dean nods in understanding. He highly doubts they would've even gotten past the security guard on the door in their usual jeans. Most likely even their regular FBI suits wouldn't have been good enough.

“So we just go inside and one of us pretends to be a customer while the other subtly checks out that wristband?” Dean asks nonetheless.

Sam nods. “Don't worry, I have a plan.”

Dean blinks, but has no time for further questioning since Sam's already shoving him through the gigantic front door. He's instantly greeted with lots of bling and bright lights and the absolute perfect room temperature (like seriously, did they hire a guy just to keep a close eye on that the entire time?) before getting pushed to the main counter where a blonde woman with a way too wide smile happily waits to bury her flawlessly manicured nails into those new potential buyers.

“Welcome,” she says, her voice as melodic and perfect as the air in the store. “How can I be of assistance?”

“Well, we've got an important purchase to make,” Sam announces, sounding all kinds of pompous. “Because you see, my brother here,” he grabs Dean's shoulders and grins at him with such an intensity Dean can't help feeling wary all of a sudden, “he intends to propose to his boyfriend.”

Dean blinks rapidly.

What?

Okay, Dean certainly didn't expect that.

The woman – Marlene, as her name tag tells them – seems taken aback by that for a moment as well, but she picks herself up much quicker than Dean. Her smile increases a few thousand watt while she turns toward the groom-to-be. “This is wonderful. Congratulations!”

Dean feels a bit like he's been hit right in the face, out of nowhere.

Thankfully he is actually used to unexpected violent attacks and has learned fairly early to deal with them.

“Um … thanks,” he mumbles, feeling his cheeks heating up.

Marlene apparently misinterprets his awkward fumbling for adorable shyness or whatever and looks at him like she's ready to adopt him right here on the spot.

“You have to excuse him, this is still a bit much for him,” Sam leaps back into the conversation. “He's been thinking about this moment for years and I guess it might be a tad surreal that it's finally happening.”

“Really?” Marlene seems truly intrigued hearing that.

“Yeah,” Sam sighs way too dramatically, “Dean's basically been thinking about marrying Cas since the first moment they met.”

Well.

Actually his first meeting with Cas was more like Dean having a sudden realization á la, “Wow, he's hot!” and then stabbing the guy in the chest.

But Dean refrains from pointing that one out.

It might have ended in those people declaring them insane and kicking them out of the store. And though Dean is used to the first, he doesn't need the latter right now.

“Dean just wants everything to be perfect,” Sam points out, sounding exactly like a guy who is used to getting what he wants. “It's a big day.”

“It most certainly is,” Marlene agrees, dollar signs already flashing up in her eyes. “We have a vast collection of engagement rings and I'm sure we will find something to your liking.”

“Money is not the issue,” Sam says those magic words that make Marlene even more excited, so it seems. “The bigger and more extravagant, the better.”

Marlene smiles widens, appearing incredibly sweet and harmless on the surface. But Dean knows a predator focusing on its prey when he sees it.

On instinct he actually wants to take a step back and hide, but instead he gathers enough courage to meet her smile. It's still somewhat wobbly, but she probably blames it on his alleged nervousness about that big change in his life.

“Why don't you tell me a little bit about your Cas?” she prods him. “What is he like?”

Dean shoots a quick glance at his brother, cursing him for having to endure this in the first place, before clearing his throat and responding, “He's … um, awesome.”

Way to go, Winchester.

She is certainly swooning on the spot.

Dean winces inwardly and forces himself to get a little bit more into his role. After all, he is used to the undercover life, so this shouldn't be too hard.

For a minute there he even considers to lie about Cas' personality, wondering whether that would make it easier to talk about him to a total stranger, but as he's just about to come up with some made-up character traits, he hears himself saying, “Well, to be fair, he's an asshole.”

Marlene looks at him in surprise while Sam in the background rolls his eyes.

“Uh … okay?” Marlene answers, clearly not sure how to reply to that.

“Cas is grumpy,” Dean goes on, now a fond smile flickering over his features. “I'm quite certain he is the biggest grump in the history of mankind, to be honest. And he's way too sassy for his own good. Also he has no idea how to clean up after himself and he always hums those annoying jingles he heard on the radio or whatever. All day. I'm actually surprised I haven't gone mad many years ago.”

Or maybe he has.

With his life, who could tell?

“But he's also a badass,” Dean continues, registering the only other employee who's been lacking any customers at the moment sliding closer with clear interest in her eyes. “No one should dare to screw around with him. And the few that actually did regretted it pretty quickly.”

That's, of course, an understatement actually, but he won't go into much detail now. For those poor women's sanity.

“And he cares, so much,” Dean goes on, an affectionate smile settling on his face when his thoughts drift closer to Cas. It's an automatic response at this point and he's pretty sure it'll stay like that for the rest of his life. “Even about that stupid little fly that got lost into our room a couple of weeks ago. It feels like we spent hours catching that thing and releasing it back into the wild. But what could you have done, you know? Cas would've been miserable if that fly would've died inside and that's something nobody wants to see. Believe me. He looks like a kicked puppy when he's sad.”

The salesladies scoots even closer, captivated by Dean gushing over his boyfriend. While Sam subtly starts to step back a little and check out the rest of the display, trying to locate the wristband of their obnoxious ghost.

Dean clears his throat, despite still feeling like he's been thrown into icy water without any warning whatsoever by his traitorous brother more than determined to play this role like their lives depend on it. After all, there here and they might not get a second chance.

So Dean gives it all he's got.

“So yes, Cas, he's great,” he says. “He's been my best friend for such a long time now and I … I guess I want him at my side for the rest of my life. And even beyond that.”

Dean smiles at the image of sharing his Heaven with Cas one day. It might be a hassle to get there at first – after all, Cas' relationship with his brethren is still not the best –, but Dean has no doubt that it'll come true eventually. Cas is way too much of a stubborn son of a bitch to not see this through.

Dean blinks as he suddenly realizes that he is in fact beginning to fantasize about Cas by his side forever as a real possibility.

Huh.

“As mentioned, we have a vast collection of engagement rings to help you start this new chapter of your life,” Marlene says with a happy sigh. “We would be more than happy to help you with your endeavor.”

Dean stares at her for a moment.

Oh right. Rings. The case.

“Yes, right,” he mutters, a slight blush on his face now. “It … it needs to be perfect.”

Marlene and her colleague – Amanda, as her name tag tells him – immediately spur into action and for the next ten minutes Dean sees himself confronted with a huge variety of different rings in all shapes and forms. A few are actually quite simple and elegant – silver bands with a couple of nice highlights – and some are seriously so over-the-top pompous and big Dean has no idea how a normal human being should be able to wear that on their hand.

But he smiles at them all and fakes such exaggerated interest both Marlene and Amanda seem to believe they're in Heaven themselves.

And it seems like a freaking eternity until Sam pops up next to him again.

“I'm so sorry to interrupt, ladies,” he jumps right into their enthusiastic conversation. “My girlfriend just texted me. Her doctor's appointment ended way earlier than expected and I need to pick her up.”

A blatant lie, of course, considering Eileen is back at the bunker with Cas, probably getting her ass beaten in every single board game invented by the best of all strategists Heaven has ever produced.

“But don't worry, Dean will be back shortly,” Sam promises right away as both Marlene and Amanda look rather crestfallen at those news. “After all, Dean can't wait to get married.”

They bid hasty goodbyes and are soon enough back on the streets again.

“So, any luck?” Dean asks when he's starting to remember the real reason why they went into the store in the first place.

“I found the wristband,” Sam admits. “But there's no suspicious energy to it. It's just jewelry.”

“Damn,” Dean sighs. “Well, it was worth a shot, at least.”

“Yeah …”

“And that was one hell of a cover story, Sammy,” Dean can't help pointing out for some reason.

Sam shoots him a quick glance, something intense flickering over his features.

“It wasn't though, right?” he asks in the end. “A cover story, I mean. Not really, at least.”

Dean frowns. On first instinct he wants to deny that, just wants to scoff at his brother's face and get on with his life, but then he thinks about Cas and how nice he would look with a ring on his finger and he finds himself lowering his gaze to cover up the flush on his cheeks.

“Uh … well, maybe it wasn't really a cover story after all,” he admits, his voice low, yet steady.

“So you want to go back?” Sam wonders, a smile on his lips. “ Look at those rings again? When this case is over and everything.”

Dean blinks. A few of those rings actually did look kind of awesome, if he's honest with himself. And sure, they're pretty expensive, but also very durable (an important feature in their line of work), and Dean surely didn't lie when he said that Cas only deserves the best.

So he finds himself muttering, “Yeah, I guess I wouldn't mind going back” and feels rather good about it.

Seems like Dean seriously has an important purchase to make after all.

#destiel #spnstayathome #fanfic #fic #drabble #fluff #established relationship #fanfiction: mine

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stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale · 3 years

Text

TWDG: The Final Season | Character Discussion | 2/2

Part 1 | Part 2

[Brody and the basement scene]

“I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. You're gonna be okay, I promise. Goddamn it, help! Why did you say that, Brody? I...I told you not to say it. Please be okay...”

Okay... here’s where the glass shatters, Marlon becomes the episode’s antagonist, and I wish there was an option to just stay in bed.

Up to this point, Marlon’s been sincerely kind, stubborn, sometimes a little agitated, but overall? A decent guy. There are flaws with his leadership and not everyone likes him, but that comes with the territory, yeah?

He wants to keep Ericson safe, he saved Clementine and AJ’s lives, he loves Rosie, he’s Louis’ best friend- what reason do I have not to trust him?

I was rooting for you, Marlon. The first time I played, I was team Marlon.... until we got back to the school after the incident with Abel at the train station.

Brody’s freaking out, and Marlon comes over... and the unsettling feelings starting creeping up when he grabs Brody’s arm and she shoves him down.

The first time I played, I had the gut feeling that she wasn’t overreacting like Marlon claimed she was and this is when I started to actually doubt him. I was still rooting for him, like maybe it’s just a misunderstanding and the game wants me to question Marlon, but he’s not the real issue. Y’know... a fake out.

Then I heard his voice in the pipes and... oh boy.

Marlon, my guy, you hurt me.

But not as bad as you hurt Brody.

Okay, let’s do this- Marlon and Brody. Start from the beginning with their relationship and how we got to the basement scene.

One thing you’ll notice back when I was talking about Aasim is how quick Brody is to snap “Be nice, Aasim” after he gets agitated with Marlon. Then, we see the two of them sitting together on the steps during the “HELP AJ MAKE FRIENDS” segment. There’s no conversation you can overhear or anything, but you get the impression that Brody is supportive of Marlon.

I mean... why else would she be so quick to tell Aasim to be nice... right?

Except no, we already know that these two are so close because of what happened with the twins. But if you don’t know that, then obviously this seems like nothing.

Though interesting to point out that people assumed Marlon and Brody were a thing based on this little tidbit, an idea that a lot of people theorize about. Hell, I believe even Kent said they might’ve had something going, albeit something unhealthy. There isn’t any evidence of a previous romantic relationship in the game, just a speculation amongst players that can add some even darker tones to their problematic relationship.

So, Brody and Marlon chat before dinner, AJ comes over and apologizes, Marlon is once again super chill and sweet to AJ and it’s great. I love the way he handles AJ.

Marlon and Brody even have a little moment where they look at each other, silent conversation and all, before he accepts the apology. Hmm.

We don’t get to chat with Brody again until after the office scene if you choose to go fishing, and here’s where I start theorizing about Brody’s true reasons for wanting to go on a road trip.

Obviously, the whole Brody and Violet thing is what’s at focus for this scene- do you help Violet forgive Brody or not, but the whole time outside of that, Brody is very focused on another idea- taking a road trip.

“I've lived here my entire life. Heck, I'd say I know every inch of these woods. I'd kind of like to un-know it. “

And while you can easily look at this as “Oh, Brody’s just a dreamer, she wants to go on a road trip with all her friends and explore somewhere new. So what?” allow me to put on my tinfoil hat and look too much into it.

Brody wants to escape Marlon, the situation they got themselves into, and leave the guilt behind. Hop in a truck, leave Ericson and the place she and Marlon traded away their friends at, leave Marlon behind, and start somewhere new where she can pretend everything’s okay. Escape the anxiety and trauma.

Just to clarify, I don’t think Brody would just up and abandon everyone to go on a road trip or anything, this is just something she fantasized and talks about wistfully. Which is fair- if it’s the apocalypse, I’m going to have fantasies like that to escape and help maintain my sanity, too. It’s a way of coping.

The reason I say she wants to get away from Marlon is that he appears to be the driving force behind her being quiet. Though I do think we tend to gloss over the fact that Brody was indeed there and she could’ve come clean about the twins prior to Clementine and AJ’s arrival due to her murder.

Sure, I don’t doubt Marlon told her to be quiet, that he’d figure something out... but when his decision was to keep it a secret and move on with their lives, Brody agreed. We don’t know what it took for her to agree, though. That’s the thing.

Maybe Marlon convinced her, maybe he threatened her, and maybe she agreed all by herself.

We don’t know. She never got to tell us.

But going off of what I’ve seen of Brody and her behavior towards Marlon in Done Running, I’m more inclined to believe that she was willing to agree because, just like Marlon, she had that guilt weighing on her shoulders. She couldn’t stop what happened, and she had no choice but to go along with it.

She was there with Marlon when the twins were taken away. She was the one who broke the news to Violet and that had to be so damn hard all by itself, y’know... having to lie to her face about it. She helped Tenn, the twins’ little brother, take down Sophie’s paintings and clean out their dorm.

She and Marlon stood side by side, kept quiet and watched everyone mourn the deaths of Sophie and Minerva, all while knowing what really happened. Neither of them came clean for their own reasons.

That kind of shit will destroy your insides and drive you mad, which is what we see down in the basement. These are two broken partners in crime who are seconds away from snapping. They’re stuck, they’re overwhelmed, they can’t agree on anything, they’re arguing and getting physically upset with one another. They’ve turned into worse versions of themselves because of this.

Marlon is no longer the chill, kind, genuine guy I praised in the beginning of this, and Brody isn’t the sweet, friendly dreamer who wanted to take a road trip with her friends.

Marlon is angry, scared, and lashing out. Brody is an anxious mess.

And they kind of hate each other.

It’s horrible. It breaks my heart.

And thinking about what happened the day they got themselves into this disaster... maybe Brody did protest in the beginning before Marlon convinced her that the best thing to do was be quiet and move on, that maybe they’ll never come back and this was the only thing they could do for the best interest of the group, and she agreed.

Maybe she went into a full blown panic attack that Marlon helped her work through all while dealing with his own emotions and that, in a twisted way, brought them closer.

We don’t know.

But you’d think that if she so easily spilled everything to Clementine, that she would’ve eventually broke down and told everyone else, too... yeah? That Marlon would’ve pushed her far enough that she slipped.

To that you can argue that it was the fact that Abel and his people were back that set her off, seeing that it was happening all over again and she refused to go through that. Then, when Marlon says he has a plan, that they’ll use Clementine and AJ, that was the final nail in the coffin that sets her mind to confessing. Clementine just happened to come down and Brody took the opportunity.

The thing is... Brody had to be feeling to same way Marlon was- ashamed, guilty, heartbroken, traumatized, terrified, and so many overwhelming emotions. I think she knew what would happen if they came clean and that scared her.

She wanted to be friends with Violet again, the way they used to be- “We all used to be friends. Guess I just kinda miss that.“ and if Violet’s distanced not knowing the truth now? Imagine what she would’ve been like if Brody came clean.

Same goes for the rest of the crew.

Marlon gets a lot of the blame for what happened, which is totally fair and justified, but like I said, we gloss over that Brody was there as well. I just wish we had more context as to how they handled it at the beginning as that would give such a great insight to Marlon and his growth [or decline] over the year prior to TFS.

And y’know... I think it was a blessing and a curse to have someone in on the secret. He has someone to talk about it to so he doesn’t feel as alone... but that comes with the constant worry of “what is she confesses?” and that’s where I think Marlon turned to intimidation out of his own fears and insecurities, which put a huge strain on his and Brody’s relationship, as well as their mental health.

It doesn’t help that it seems Brody has issues with anxiety and panic attacks going off what we saw in Done Running.

Moving on to the beginning of the red flags with Marlon... let’s look at their conversations after Clementine and crew get back after the deal with the train station.

Right as we enter, we hear them in the middle of this-

Brody: “You are not listening to me. Marlon, listen to me- I'm telling you, the place was ransacked!”

Marlon: “It's fine. We'll deal with it.”

Who knows how long this conversation has gone on... and once again, Marlon isn’t listening. Hell, Brody is flat out saying he’s not listening. If this wasn’t alarming enough, Brody goes off on Clementine upon learning Abel’s fate and Marlon rushes in... probably to make sure she doesn’t say anything he doesn’t want her to.

Brody: “I just can't... I won't... just not again... fuck!”

Marlon: “What the hell's going on here?”

Brody: “She took them outside the safe zone... They saw someone! You know what that means-!”

Marlon: “Enough! It just means there's a hungry guy out there looking for food. It's happened before. You are overreacting.”

Brody: “You can't be serious!”

[Marlon grabs her arm]

Marlon: “Come on, let's go somewhere and talk about this.”

So... yikes.

It’s that arm grab, man. That set off some alarm bells. It happens super quick before it cuts back and Brody shoves him so hard, he falls to the ground. Which takes a lot of force. Then Brody turns the blame on Clementine, which is interesting.

None of that is great. But Marlon gets up and you can feel how exasperated and stressed he is that Brody made that scene and that Clementine took Louis and Violet outside the safe zone. He’s just learned that Abel is back, Brody is cracking, and it’s the calm before the storm.

It’s worth noting that even though he’s clearly upset, he’s still holding onto to this “I’m the leader, I know I asked you for help and you did, it’s fine, we’ll be eating for a while. It’s fine. I’ll go talk to Brody, go eat. Everything is fine.”

Giving off the appearance that everything’s okay. Nothing wrong, Brody’s just paranoid. It’s fine.

And if you’re like me, you said, “Hmmmmm... I have bad feelings.”

Though, I’d like to add that I also like that he admits that he always worries if Clementine tells him he doesn’t have to. A bit of vulnerability slipping through. So that’s it, right? He’s just worried.

Well... that’s not wrong, but...

Also, Marlon tells Brody she’s overreacting quite a bit and I bet that’s something he’s said to her plenty in the past. It’s just.. ugh.

Okay, time for the fun part.

As we all know, Clementine and AJ are woken up by voices in the pipes. They belong to Marlon and Brody as they’re having an argument down in the basement.

What’s really sad is that they’re the only ones who seemingly notice. Clementine’s the only one who bothered to get out of bed and see what the hell was going on. Which makes me think that this isn’t the first time they’ve fought like this, so the rest of the Ericson crew just ignore it.

Which is pretty fucked up. You’d think that someone would hear it and go down there to at least tell them to knock it off.

You could argue that maybe only Clementine and AJ could hear it because they’re closer to the basement door, which is fair. But there are other rooms in that hallway that are close enough, so unless those rooms are all empty... someone else had to of heard something.

Hell, they all hear Marlon and AJ yelling at each other in a thunderstorm outside... why not hear this?

In order for me to go over the entire basement conversation, we all gotta be up to speed. The conversation is below but if you want to hear the voice acting, you can watch this video here.

Marlon: “Why can't you just do what I ask you to do?”

Brody: “Because we caused all this, and now we have to deal with it!”

Marlon: “I am dealing with it!”

Brody: “By tradin' more of us away? That's not fixin' the problem, that's runnin' away from it! ...Let me go!”

Marlon: “Hey, calm down.”

Brody: “Don't tell me to calm down! You can't do this! You can't just-ahh!... Please...please! If we just tell everyone what's goin' on, maybe we can-”

Marlon: “I said shut up!”

[it’s implied Marlon does something here... grabs her, pushes her, hits her... there are no other sounds in the video but it’s not good. You can hear it in both their voices and “I said shut up!” is exactly what he says before he hits her with the flashlight later soo...]

Marlon: “Shit, shit. Brody, are you okay?”

Brody: “Fuck you. ...There's got to be some other way.”

Marlon: “There is no other way. Goddamn it, so few of us left... What else would you have me do?”

Brody: “Something! There's got to be something.”

Marlon: “No, no, no, there's nothing. Nothing, Brody!”

Brody: “That can't be true!”

Marlon: “You know, maybe...maybe it doesn't matter. It probably doesn't matter at all. It's just a couple of cigarettes. I mean... Just one fucking guy! This is an insurance policy.”

[insurance policy = Clementine and AJ. Nice, Marlon. Also his denial and inability to listen is super prominent here.]

Brody: “An insurance policy? These are fucking people, Marlon!”

Marlon: “I know that! Fuck, I know that. ...You are overreacting. I'm telling you!”

Brody: “What if I'm not?”

Marlon: “No, you are. So knock it the fuck off, Brody.”

Brody: “You knock it the fuck off! You are unbelievable! You fucking coward!”

Marlon: “Hey, HEY! We are in this together. You will not put this all on me! ...Damn it, Brody! We don't even know for sure it was them!”

Brody: “You know he's not alone. Those bastards are back and it's only a matter of time before they find us. You know that!”

Marlon: “I don't know shit, and neither do you! Goddamn it, Brody, keep it together!”

Brody: ‘There you go again, getting so mad.”.

Marlon: “Well, what do you want me to do? You're making me mad!”

Brody: “Oh, we have to tell the others! About what you did!”

It’s not a fun conversation. At all. I hate it, even if the voice acting is terrific.

So here’s the thing about this conversation... Marlon is stuck. He’s refusing to see any other way of handling the raiders return because what else is there to do? Fight them off? We know that’s something Marlon doesn’t want to do for a number of reasons- he’d have to come clean, he’d have to develop a plan of attack, he’d risk everyone at the school- so in his mind, being quiet and keeping Clementine and AJ as “insurance” is the best course of action to keep the others safe.

But then there’s Brody. She’s had enough and you can tell that it’s all become too much for her. She just wants to come clean and face the consequences, she wants Marlon to own up to what happened, and she’s willing to face his anger and call him out on it. It gets to the point where she starts to plead that they have to tell the others.

The more and more she goes on, the angrier Marlon gets. All his shame, grief, stress, and anger have became a dangerous cocktail that causes him to lash out.

And he fucking does. That part where he tells her to shut up then there’s this dead pause? Then his voice breaks as he apologizes and asks if she’s okay? Followed by Brody’s “fuck you.”?

Their fight has become physical now. It’s not just them yelling at each other, and while I want to give Marlon the benefit of the doubt and say that maybe he grabbed her like he did before which isn’t great either but fucking hell, that’s not what it sounds like. He hit or pushed her or something and... God damn it, Marlon. That’s inexcusable and it makes me question if he’s ever gotten physical with her before. Especially since Brody continues the conversation like it’s happened before....

God, I miss when Marlon was chill and sweet. Remember when he helped Clementine with Rosie? I do... Can we go back to that?

...Anyway, this whole conversation sucks and it gets worse. Marlon is a hair away from melt down and Brody is becoming desperate for him to listen to her.

So when Clementine comes down, everything comes to a head.

And at first, you think think that maybe Clementine can calm the situation, defuse it. But then Marlon goes into defensive “everything’s fine” mode, telling Clementine there’s nothing to worry about and to go back to bed.

Take note of his hard tone here, too. He’s doing that dominating tone, but elevated from when he used it before. He shines the light in Clementine’s face and says, “Brody and I were just talkin', go get some sleep. You deserve some shut-eye. You had a busy day.” In hopes that she’ll be intimidated and cooperate but... well, Clementine isn’t and doesn’t.

And Brody seizes the opportunity.

Brody: “The man you met at the station. We got history.”

Marlon: “Brody... Don't listen to her, Clem, she's acting crazy. She gets this way sometimes, you just gotta tune it out.”

The desperation in Marlon’s voice here is just... ugh. Trying so hard to discredit Brody and take control back of the situation.

That’s what it all comes back to, isn’t it? Marlon’s control. He knows Brody’s slipping and no matter what he does or says, he can’t regain his control over her and the situation. Clementine is threatening that and it’s spiking his anger.

We all know what happens next.

Brody: “Marlon let him take the twins. Him and his people.”

Marlon: “Damn it, Brody!”

Clementine: “Tenn's sisters? I thought they were killed by walkers.”

Brody: “That's the story we told everyone.’

Marlon: “Shut up.”

Brody: “'Cause Marlon was so ashamed of what-”

Marlon: “I said SHUT UP!”

Marlon loses control, hits Brody with his flashlight so hard that it kills her, and realization of how badly fucked up he’s become dawns on him.

Yeah, Marlon... Brody’s bleeding out on the floor because of you, because you were so desperate to keep control and hide your shame from everyone, and this is what it manifested into.

Yet, he tries to rationalize it like it’s not his fault. He’s in denial. He told her not to say it, and she did. But it’s okay, she’s going to be okay.

Which is fucked, but at this point, Marlon’s in a full blown panic - “Oh, shit, Brody. I'm sorry! I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. You're gonna be okay, I promise. Goddamn it, help! Why did you say that, Brody? I...I told you not to say it. Please be okay.” He’s all over the place and doesn’t know what to do.

And it gets worse.

Because Marlon’s in such a panic, brain scattered with a shit ton of horrifying thoughts- “What do I tell everyone? Brody’s dead and I killed her. How will everyone look at me? I betrayed them. I betrayed all of them. The raiders are coming back. Clementine knows the truth. What do I do? I can’t let them know. I can’t tell the truth because they will see me for what I really am.” -when he hears Brody tell Clementine everything, he once again does something shitty to save himself. He runs and locks Clementine in the basement, knowing that Brody’s going to turn.

Clementine: “Marlon, you son of a bitch, don't do this!”

Marlon: “I'm sorry... I can't...I can't let you talk to the others.”

So... what does this entire scene tell us about Marlon?

Well, first off, I shouldn’t trust someone just because they love dogs. That’s on me.

This is where Marlon goes from friend to foe and it’s a lot to take in. This scene is the reason people question Marlon’s real motivations, question whether or not he was ever good if he had it in him to murder Brody in order to keep her quiet.

But that’s the thing, when you watch this scene, you can tell that Marlon didn’t mean to kill her. In a fit of anger, he didn’t know his own strength and lashed out and she died because of it. He should still be held accountable for it, even if it was an accident. But because he’s holding on to whatever he can, he refuses to take accountability, choosing to then leave Clementine for death and pin everything on her.

He has no plan after that, he just knows that he has to regain control over everything or else he’s done. He doesn’t have time to mourn Brody or come to terms with what he had done because he’s moving so fast to “fix” everything, y’know?

What Marlon did down here was inexcusable. I can do my best to explain what lead Marlon to this point and why he did what he did, but that doesn’t justify anything.

Now... before I move on to talk about the confrontation scene, there is one more important character in Marlon’s life to cover.

[Louis and a broken friendship]

“I hope you know Louis didn't mean any harm there. He's just the world's biggest dumbass. He's my best friend, so I can legally call him that.”

Where to even begin?

From the beginning, I guess.

Louis and Marlon have known each other for years, back before the walkers came and the world ended. We know this because of the photo in Marlon’s office and how everyone tells us that they’re best friends.

And it’s funny that they’re such best friends but the game doesn’t care much to show us that, or even go into details about their relationship. Which, in my opinion, was a bit of a failure on the writers part. I know you probably didn’t have time and all the usual reasons, but you’d think that this relationship would be important enough to cover just a tad bit more considering that Louis is a potential love interest and Marlon’s the antagonist.

Y’know?

The only times Marlon and Louis actually interact with one another for more than two seconds is during the card game and during the confrontation, and even that is slim if you choose to appeal to Violet.

But like, no guys, they’re super best friends. Trust us, we told you, like, twice.

I hate to get into the Louis vs Violet thing since this is about Marlon, but let me explain why this bothers me.

They didn’t have any issues letting Violet spill her guts about her past with the twins, specifically Minerva. Now, the twins are considered dead at this point, so it’s not like they could show them interacting, so they get a pass for the show rather than telling. Except they do show that Violet and Minerva were girlfriends when you go fishing and look at the initials on the wall.

I’m not saying that this isn’t important. It is. I explained why it’s important to Marlon’s character previously, too.

But this is when we run into a problem with what they decided to do with Louis- Louis doesn’t tell us jack shit about his relationship with Marlon in Done Running prior to appealing to him during the confrontation. All I ask is why not?

Look, to be frank, the picture is nice and all, but it’s not enough. Marlon saying “Oh yeah, muh best friend,” once isn’t enough. You barely scraped by with what you gave us.

Louis doesn’t tell us anything about his past, at least nothing important to the plot. When Aasim makes a comment about him being Marlon’s lap dog, Louis brushes it off with a joke, and never mentions Marlon again. The only time Louis actually lets us in is if you take care of the walker with him and he explains his way of thinking before realizing he let his guard down and puts the mask back on.

Louis isn’t willing to share anything about his friendship with Marlon but Violet’s over here super willing to open up about the twins and Brody? That’s hilarious because you’d think it’d be the other way around.

You’d think that they’d have Louis saying something about Marlon to show us that he has a blind faith in Marlon or trusts him to a fault. He can see that Aasim doesn’t get along with Marlon and questions his leadership, so why not have him say something in defense of Marlon?

And perhaps it’s on purpose. Maybe Louis’ trust in Marlon is so great that he doesn’t feel the need to defend him because he knows how Aasim gets. They have plenty of other stuff to argue about, why add another thing? Fine, that makes sense... but why not have him say something to Clementine? Hell, have Clementine ask him about Marlon and the safe zone and what he thinks about it?

Like when Clementine’s all “Hey, let’s go to the train station.”

Louis just stands there like “’kay,” without any indication of “Yeah Marlon wouldn’t like that.”

...Maybe he doesn’t care? Who knows.

I’m just saying, they would’ve benefited from adding a conversation with Louis about Marlon so that we could get his perspective of their relationship BEFORE the confrontation rather than waiting until ep2 for him to give us some details.

But, like, it’s fine... I’ll just work with what I got.

There isn’t too much to say about them during the card game. They’re chill, they’re buddies. Louis does this cute whistle that Marlon bobs his head to and that’s pretty neat.

After Louis asks Clementine if she ever had to kill someone she loved and the game ends, Marlon goes to make sure Clementine’s okay and let her know that Louis didn’t mean to hurt her feelings, he’s just a dumbass.

But it’s fine, they’re best friends so he can legally call him that. This is the first time we see Marlon say something like that about Louis, the second time being in the office. He’ll admit that he hopes Louis will actually show up to go hunting, which says a lot about the amount of faith he puts into Louis.

Which is interesting to think about how one-sided their friendship can seem when you start putting pieces together. Louis has complete faith in Marlon but Marlon doesn’t return that faith due to the fact that he knows Louis runs on his own time, y’know? Louis appears to be honest while Marlon is dishonest.

Knowing how Marlon is and his need for control, you’d think that he’d be more stern with Louis. He’s like that with everyone else... until you remember that Marlon has a soft spot for Louis. One that allows him to take control in a different way.

I can’t help but feel Marlon had this sense of entitlement to Louis as his best friend. Marlon’s been Louis’ friend the longest, Marlon is the only one who can call Louis an idiot, Marlon gives Louis special treatment in many ways that others notice, Marlon knows Louis better than anyone else does. Marlon loves Louis like he’s his own blood.

And if you know anything about Louis and his character, you know a big part of his arc is confidence and self-esteem. I mean, real self-esteem, not the persona he puts on. Looking back at everything we’ve covered, it’s not out of the question to think that Marlon could’ve used that part of Louis to his advantage. He’s Louis’ best friend, Louis can trust him because Marlon’s always had his back, always appeared to see beyond the jokes and piano because they’ve know each other longest. They’re practically brothers.

Having that control over Louis is important to Marlon, and while that seems like a slimy way to put it, it’s true. I don’t think Marlon ever saw Louis as a pawn or anything- I believe Marlon genuinely cared about and loved Louis- but when it came to the twins, he didn’t confide him. Marlon didn’t want to lose the closest connection he had, the one person who couldn’t see him for who he turned into, and he didn’t want Louis to tell everyone else.

There ya go- yet another layer of guilt and shame for Marlon.

Not only that, but Marlon didn’t have much confidence in him, found him irresponsible. He had to deal with the fact that he still loved Louis while acknowledging that he’s not reliable.

That brings us to when Clementine appeals to Louis.

Here’s where Marlon becomes a cocky bastard.

Clementine: “Louis, don't let him do this!”

Louis: “Oh, no. I am not involved.”

Clementine: “What?”

Louis: “I like you, Clem, but I...”

[Louis looks to Marlon, who gives him an intimidating look back that shuts Louis down. There’s the control.]

Louis: “Not me. I'm sorry. You're, uh, on your own. Sorry.”

And Marlon’s face...? He’s so smug I could slap him. He looks at Clementine like “Oh, you thought Louis was gonna help you, huh? HA! My best friend, dingus.”

What’s funny is that in all my searching through reddit and youtube and what have you, a lot of people complain that Louis is “harder” to get to side with you. Which, technically, no he’s not. Both he and Violet require you to pick two dialogue choices before they help. Louis only appears harder because Marlon intimidates him into being quiet and that makes it seem like he won’t help you.

Though, to be fair, he does attempt to step in after Clementine pleads with him the first time.

“Shit. Marlon, come on, man. Drop the gun.”

And Marlon really doesn’t like that.

He snaps out Louis’ name and you see Louis visibly flinch at this. Either this is the first time Marlon’s risen his voice at him like this or it’s not, it’s hard to tell.

“She. Killed. Brody! We can't let her walk away.”

Funny how he says we there...

You can feel how conflicted Louis is here, just like how you can feel Marlon’s control and manipulation at play. Louis wants to believe Marlon, but he’s out here with blood all over his face and waving a gun around. He’s about to shoot Clementine, and that will make him a murderer no matter how you look at it and Louis knows this.

He’s looking at a version of his best friend that he doesn’t recognize, but because he’s scared, it makes Louis backtrack and curl into himself.

“Clem, I... I... I gotta trust Marlon. I just... I gotta. I always have.”

Here, you have two choices:

“He didn't trust you with the truth! He lied to you about the twins. He doesn't deserve your trust.”

“Brody trusted him. And now she's dead. And he killed her!”

Personally, I prefer the first one, but both of these strike a nerve within Louis. He knows she’s right.

Marlon yells at Clementine and gets ready to shoot her, which she accepts by the way she steps back and closes her eyes.

Louis, with both hands up, slowly steps between them, free of Marlon’s control and trying to save both him and Clementine.

Marlon, baffled that he’d ever do this, even moves the gun away as he stares at Louis in disbelief.

Marlon: “You don't know what you're doing, man!”

Louis: “C'mon, dude, just drop the gun. This is how adults do things. Not us.”

Can I just say that Marlon must feel so fucking powerless seeing Louis step up to him like this? Like, with Violet he’s not surprised and not even remotely intimidated by her little meat cleaver, but with Louis? He is not okay.

The others step forward and Marlon knows that he’s lost. Pointing a gun at his best friend? Knowing that if he so much as accidentally squeezed the trigger, Louis would be dead? Everyone has turned against him.

Not great.

You guys know me, you know that I much prefer appealing to Louis over Violet because of the power behind this and how much of an effect it has on Marlon. It’s perfectly executed.

A couple more things to talk about regarding this scene. If you call Marlon pathetic, he says something interesting to Louis.

Clementine: “You're pathetic.”

[Marlon drops his gun]

Marlon: “I know. Always was.”

Louis: “That isn't true.”

Marlon: “No, Louis, it is. You were just the only one who couldn't see it.”

When I say my heart hurts... muh heart hurts. Because this is what their friendship became, they both realize it, and Louis is devastated.

On the flip side, if you say-

Clementine: “We can still fix this, Marlon. It's going to be okay. We can make this right.”

Louis: “We'll help you. We're all family here. The only one any of us has left.”

Which shows that despite everything, Louis does have a little bit of faith left in Marlon and wants to help him, which Marlon feels he doesn’t deserve.

Then AJ shoots Marlon in the head.

And I really, really wish there was an option to just stay in bed to avoid all of this.

Okay.

Louis is a fucking mess after this.

The writers finally said, “Hey, remember when Luke had absolutely no reaction to his best friend’s death in s2? What if we don’t do that this time?”

I don’t want to get too into this because this isn’t a Louis analysis, but let me quickly summarize the affect Marlon’s death had on Louis.

Anyone who was around when Suffer the Children came out remembers all the discourse about Louis. Lot of people pissed at him for being upset. Which fine, you’re allowed to be upset with him because he’s mad at Clementine and AJ, but let me remind you that he just witnessed his best friend of 8+ years being murdered right before his eyes after no longer being a threat and he was powerless to do anything about it.

Marlon’s death hurt and traumatized Louis in so many ways and that’s something we see throughout the episode. Even though Marlon is dead, he continues to have an effect on Louis and everyone at Ericson because of what he did and how he died.

And to clarify, Louis never hated Clementine and AJ for what happened. He just didn’t know what to do. He was overwhelmed, hurt, pissed, and never had time to mourn before raiders came knocking on their doors. He dealt with the fact that his best friend wasn’t who he thought he was and how Marlon hurt everyone at this school, that Marlon was a murderer.

That’s a fucking lot.

And it continues to hurt him through the rest of the season.

Honestly, Louis says everything best:

“You sound like Marlon. I mean, not about fighting, but when he was trying to cheer us all up. For years, I sat around making stupid jokes, playing stupid games, while my best friend was left with all the responsibility. All the tough calls. All the sleepless nights. And eventually, a bullet in the head. And I didn't do a damn thing about it. And then, when you tried to tell us what he was really like, and AJ shot him, I blamed you. Both of you. If I could take it back, I would. I knew that the day you got back. I still do. ...He was my best friend. Almost like my brother, but the things he did? They were fucked up. I'll never be glad he died. But I understand why AJ thought it was the right thing to do.”

[The final confrontation and Marlon’s murder]

“I know I betrayed you... all of you. Just let me leave. You'll never have to see me again. Just let me become...a bad memory. Just give me that. Please.”

The final confrontation is my favorite Marlon moment from a storytelling standpoint.

Just... everything about it. The thunderstorm, the voice acting, Marlon’s complete turn to antagonist and break down, Clementine appealing to Louis/Violet, Rosie barking in the background... it’s just great. It hurts but I love it.

This is where we see Marlon’s manipulation at it’s peak. He knows he’s fucked, but is still so desperate to cling on that he throws everything he can at Clementine. He accuses her of murdering Brody, working with the raiders, takes low blows against everyone, especially Louis and Violet, and goes as far as to point a gun at Clementine with the intention of shooting her.

Because that’ll fix everything... I guess?

Marlon didn’t think this through.

Anyway...

“We saved their lives when anyone else would've kept walking! We fed them, we kept them warm! And this is how they thank us?! Guns being pulled and murder! Well, FUCK! THEM!”

Marlon is broken, his last resort it to try and salvage himself, to win the group’s favor.

“Aw, come the fuck on! They only met up with these ‘raiders’ because Clem insisted they go out there. Quite the coincidence, isn't it? Shame I don't believe in those. Think about how scared we all were when the adults left. I pulled us out of that fear. I gave us all courage again. Who are y'all gonna believe, huh? Johnny-come-lately and her little fucking lunatic? Or me? Your friend?”

He’s pulling out the big guns, reminding everyone that he was the one who pulled them out of their fear and gave them courage, that he’s their friend who they’ve known and trusted for 8+ years while they just met Clementine two days ago.

Who are you going to believe?

As well all know, Clementine takes a risk and appeals to Louis or Violet. I already covered them so we’ll skip ahead to everyone turning on him.

This is when Marlon realizes he’s losing and that anger bubbles up.

“You don't get it. You- you don't understand at all, do you? I'm trying to protect you! All of you! Every fucking one of you!”

And he lashes out, pointing the gun at everyone now, and finally... the truth comes out.

“...I made the right call. I saved the lives of everyone in this fucking school! If they came back... I'd do it again!”

...Yikes.

Now, I’ve talked about this scene in previous parts, said most of what I wanted to say, but there is one thing I haven’t covered, and that’s Tenn.

Tenn: “You told me they died!”

Marlon: “I had to save the rest of you, okay?”

Tenn: “You gave my sisters away. Why would you do something like that? I trusted you, Marlon! THEY trusted you! ....We all trusted you...”

Marlon: “I know... I know..”

Tenn was first introduced along side Marlon and you can tell that he cares about him and is protective. Not only that, but Tenn is comfortable enough to play in Marlon’s office, which is something I assume he does regularly.

It makes me think that Marlon took Tenn under his wing, if you will, after the twins died. Perhaps as some way to try and make himself better, maybe to try and make it up to the twins by swearing to protect him.

Tenn is what gets Marlon to take it down a bit, to explain that he didn’t want to hurt the twins, he just didn’t have any choice. He even admits to Tenn that he was too scared to develop a rescue plan.

You can hear it in his voice when he looks to Tenn and speaks, and Tenn is the one who gets him to confess that he was the one who killed Brody, not Clementine.

Marlon: “I wanted to get them. Stage some kind of rescue. Honest, Tenn. I just couldn't. I was...I was too afraid.”

Tenn: “You killed Brody because she knew?”

Marlon: “Mm-hmm... I didn't mean to. I didn't want this. I wanted to save all of you. Sophie, Minerva. I didn't want to hurt them.”

Which is huge. It wasn’t Clementine, it wasn’t Louis or Violet who got him to confess, it was Tenn. Hearing this boy on the verge of tears tell Marlon that they all trusted him, how could he do this to them... that got through to him.

And I believe Tenn is the one who solidified that Marlon wanted to leave. He didn’t want to stay and see everyone look and treat him differently, see everyone hate him- He couldn’t face Louis, his best friend. He couldn’t face Violet, the girl he betrayed. He couldn’t face Clementine and AJ, couldn’t face everyone he tried to protect.

And he couldn’t face Tenn.

But you know what says a lot about Tenn? If you choose to remain silent after Marlon says he didn’t want to hurt them, he says:

“I forgive you.”

[?] Marlon won’t forget that.

But even with that forgiveness? I don’t Marlon believes he deserves that, especially from Tenn. He grateful Tenn forgave him, but he still feels it’s best that he leaves.

“I know I betrayed you. All of you. Just let me leave. You'll never have to see me again. Just let me become...a bad memory. Just give me that. Please.”

And we all know what happens next.

So... this begs the question... after everything that Marlon did and didn’t do...

Did Marlon deserve his fate?

No.

Marlon didn’t deserve this. That’s the short answer.

In my opinion, AJ was far from justified in what he did.

This is a good time to compare Marlon and Lilly, since that comes up quite a bit. When Lilly surrenders at the end of Broken Toys, she does it to manipulate the situation in her favor and get the upper hand again.

The second you show any sort of kindness towards Lilly, she takes advantage of you because she never saw the error in her ways. She believed every cruel thing she ever did was for a good cause and only ever feels remorse when she loses everyone.

Marlon, on the other hand, genuinely surrendered. This was the first time he gave up his control and accepted what he had done, ready to face the consequences and be outcast from Ericson for his crimes. He dropped his weapon, he was no longer a threat. Marlon no longer had any malicious intent once everyone turned against him.

And the biggest difference between Marlon and Lilly is that Marlon felt that shame since the beginning. He did bad things for the sake of Ericson, but not once did he take pride in what he did to the twins or Brody. He felt nothing but remorse.

Brody’s dead, Sophie and Minerva are gone, and he realizes what he’s become.

The tragedy of Marlon is that his fate was decided by a child who was unable to read the situation for what it was, who took it upon themselves to take Marlon’s life despite the fact that everything was over. Marlon never gets a redemption arc, and maybe he didn’t deserve one. It depends on how you feel.

But for me, he definitely didn’t deserve to be shot in the back of the head like that.

[Final thoughts]

“...It's hard to survive too long these days without being a bit... ‘troubled.’”

Marlon is... complicated.

That’s a good word.

On one hand, he does have some genuine moments where he’s a chill dude looking out for his family and there’s a lot to like about him, but on the other hand... he did a lot of bad shit.

If I had to pick a “problematic fav” within TFS, Marlon would be it.

Like I mentioned previously, I wish we had more interactions with him and Louis, but we did get enough to get the point across.

As for Marlon’s backstory and why he was sent to Ericson, it’s never stated and none of the creators have come forward with information. My theory? That’s a great question.

Most are inclined to believe that he’s there due to anger and behavior problems, but for all we know, that stuff developed over time since I don’t know if someone like that would be put in a leader position. Or maybe it is and he forced himself in, I dunno.

My guess is that it’s something we’d never expect. I don’t know if I have a theory because, well, I don’t exactly feel qualified to diagnose Marlon with something I haven’t done a shit ton of research on, y’know?

Even after writing this and looking through everything... I couldn’t tell you.

I find Marlon to be a compelling character that I wish stuck around longer. He’s an example of a kid who grew up too fast with the lives of his whole community on his shoulders. He was faced with a no-win situation and suffered with every decision made. His desire to control everything around him, to ground him, led to his downfall.

In the end, Marlon expressed sincere guilt for what he did. Apologizing doesn’t magically make everything he did okay, far from it, but it was a step in the right direction. I wish he had the chance at some kind of redemption, but it’s The Walking Dead. Not everyone gets a redemption arc, most get theirs torn from their grasp. Marlon is one of those people.

He had a lot of good qualities that were severely overshadowed by his final moments. I believe he genuinely cared about Ericson and believed he was doing all the right things to protect him. He took things too far, manipulating those closest to him and causing them more pain than he ever thought.

All in all, an enjoyable, complex character.

Want to see more of these long character discussion posts? Let me know! Feel free to send suggestions for characters you’d like me to cover in the future! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this Marlon character discussion/analysis/rant thing! Let me know your thoughts on Marlon!

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seasonofthewicth · 4 years

Text

A Groovy Kind of Love - Chapter 4

masterlist

AN: I’m so sorry this took so long, I wasn’t having such a good week and writing a scene where Rowan meets back up with his ex was hitting a little too close to home haha so it took me a while. I’m not fully convinced I’m happy with it, but it’s here. I hope you guys enjoy it anyway and leave any comments if you feel like it they fuel me so well!!

-----

Aelin gave herself a few days for a pity party. It wasn’t every day you lose a job you enjoy, and she had some savings that should be able to tide her over for a month or two, she had time to feel sorry for herself before she needed to move on. She had spent a day on the couch, crying and drinking wine watching Dirty Dancing which had unashamedly improved her mood. Lorcan had joined her at one point despite his protests when she first moved in, she knew he couldn’t resist it even though he had thrown popcorn at her when she cried at the end.

She had slept in late most mornings, hungover after many drinks in the bar the night before with the occupants of the loft, but it didn’t matter; it wasn’t like she had anywhere to be. Last night hadn’t been a late one and she hadn’t drank as much as she had the day she had lost her job, that night Rowan hadn’t let her glass fall below a quarter full.

She moaned, rolling over, brushing the nest of tangled hair off her clammy forehead. Her tongue was like sandpaper and her mouth tasted old and bitter. Gross, she needed desperately to brush her teeth.

She clambered across the bed to her bedside table to find her phone, unlocking it and checking the time. 8:02am. Not too bad, but she needed to get up now to be ready in time for the wedding. The wedding where she was going to be playing Rowan’s girlfriend.

Why had she agreed to that? At the time it had seemed like a good idea, she was feeling down and had wanted to help out a friend in a time of need. Now time had passed she questioned her own sanity; having to get close to Rowan, and to touch him, and to play all lovey-dovey with him was a task she wasn’t sure her acting skills were up too.

The morning of the wedding was probably a bit too late notice to back out on Rowan though so she would be Aelin Galathynius, fake-girlfriend extraordinaire.

She dragged herself to the bathroom to shower and clean her teeth, breakfast could wait and Lysandra would probably bring something when she came over to get ready. Lysandra’s attendance at the wedding was something Aelin hadn’t expected, she thought Aedion was joking when he told her he had invited Lysandra, and even when he clarified he was serious she hadn’t expected Lysandra to have said yes.

She trudged out of the bathroom in her towel, the other residents of the loft were nowhere to be seen, not unusual for early on a Saturday morning. She wished as little time and effort went into her own getting ready for the event later on, stupid guys and their ability to throw on a suit and be ready, she knew Rowan and Lorcan wouldn’t even consider beginning to get ready until noon.

Lysandra was likely to spend hours doing Aelin’s hair and make-up, and no doubt even more time having her try on numerous different outfits to find the perfect dress. Lysandra was given endless amounts of clothing through her modelling gigs, and they were similar in size enough that Aelin could steal pieces here and there.

There was a knock at the door and she double checked the time on her phone again, 8:43am. Lysandra was early. She ditched her towel and threw on her robe and went to answer the door.

“Good morning!” Lysandra’s voice was bright, in one hand she held a paper bag, and in the other a small suitcase.

“Morning,” Aelin pulled her friend into a one armed hug, taking the paper bag Lysandra held out to her.

“How are you feeling Ae?” Lysandra’s voice was full of concern.

“I’m okay,” She shrugged, she had come to terms with her joblessness now, and her pity party had helped her move past the disappointment. “How are you?”

“I’m glad,” Lysandra squeezed her even tighter before releasing her. “I’m fantastic of course, now; are you ready to become so hot that Rowan’s ex cries herself to sleep tonight?” Lysandra’s voice was sweet as syrup.

“I don’t need any help for that thank you very much.” She called as she shut the door and pulled Lysandra towards her bedroom, she didn’t need Aedion hearing Lysandra arrive and trying to monopolise her.

Once in her room, with the door closed, Lysandra threw her case down and flopped onto Aelin’s bed. She twisted onto her side and propped her head up with a hand and turned to face Aelin.

“I can’t believe you agreed to go to a wedding and pretend to be Rowan’s fake girlfriend.” Lysandra wasn’t wasting any time, an undercurrent of laughter hovering in her voice.

“I can’t believe you’re going to a wedding as my cousin’s date.” She leaned against her desk and folded her arms across her chest.

“Don’t change the subject,” Lysandra sang, “And anyway, I agreed to go with Aedion for the same reason that apparently Lorcan is going with Fenrys; two words. Open bar.”

“Sure, easy explanation.”

Lysandra rolled her eyes. “It’s the truth. Now stop changing the subject, you’re going to pretend to be Rowan’s girlfriend to make his ex jealous. Are you ready for that, and what you’ll have to do?”

“Yes,” Aelin deadpanned, she opened the paper bag Lysandra had brought and started on the chocolate croissant. Her favourite.

“Aelin,” Lysandra rolled forward and propped both hands under her chin “Come on, you can’t pretend you’re fine with this, I’ve seen you near him.”

“What do you mean?” She knew she was setting herself up for failure with the question, but she couldn’t help it.

“I mean when you go all goo-goo eyed around him and laugh at his stupid jokes that aren’t funny.”

Lysandra pulled a doe-eyed expression, a bad imitation of Aelin.

“I do not,” She said stubbornly, pouting a little. “And his jokes aren’t stupid.”

Lysandra gave her a desperate look.

“Look,” She levelled with her friend, finishing her last mouthful of croissant. “Me and Rowan are friends and roommates, nothing more. A friend can help a friend out, you know, hug him when she’s looking, dance with him. It won’t mean anything.”

“Okay, sure. What about kissing? Could you kiss him?”

Aelin had thought about this. Kissing was an unstated expectation of a couple, even if they weren’t big on PDA Lyria would probably expect some kind of affection from them. A kiss on the cheek, a brush of lips.

She could imagine how Rowan would cradle her chin with his hand as he leant in, his lips a feather-soft brush against her own. Lysandra’s knowing smirk interrupted her, and she pointed her tongue out in return.

“Yes I could, and it would be fine. We are friends. Now, are you going to do my hair or just lie on my bed and gossip all day?” She raised an eyebrow at her friend, who took the cue that Aelin was done talking about this, at least for now.

“Shut up,” Lysandra laughed and moved to open her suitcase. Aelin shuddered at the thought that an entire suitcase would be needed.

-----

There was some bubbly pop music coming from Aelin’s room, Rowan assumed that meant Lysandra was here and the two of them were getting ready for the wedding. He was nervous, way past nervous actually, about seeing Lyria at the wedding. He hadn’t seen her at all since their break-up and he knew it would be awkward when they ran in to each other.

At least he wouldn’t be alone, the rest of the guys would be there too, and Lysandra and Aelin. He supposed that an element of his nerves were probably apprehension about pretending to be Aelin’s boyfriend. He couldn’t believe Aelin had agreed to do it, or that he himself was going along with it.

He smoothed the lapels down on his blazer as he walked into the living room. He was wearing a suit borrowed from Aedion under specific instructions from Lysandra, she had deemed his own options not up to scratch. Aedion and Lorcan were already seated on the couch, both ready to leave, drinking a beer each.

“Alright man, looking good.” Aedion raised his beer, “Want one before we leave?”

“Thanks, you too,” He said, taking the beer Lorcan held out to him. Aedion did scrub up well, and he looked smart in his navy blue suit, but it wasn’t unusual to see him so well dressed, unlike Rowan and Lorcan.

He took his seat on the couch, there was still time before they had to leave, but Fenrys wasn’t ready yet and neither were the girls, so he had time to calm himself down before they needed to set off. The beer would probably help to calm some of his nerves, he hoped if he drank enough they’d all be covered.

He, Aedion and Lorcan made idle conversation about the football game on the television when they were interrupted by Lysandra coming into the room.

“We’re ready,” She said. “Are you guys all ready to go?”

Rowan’s response died in his throat when Aelin walked into the room. Her hair was curled and pinned so it cascaded down over her left shoulder, loose waves folding over one another. Her dress was tight at her waist and flowed out slightly to where it hit mid-thigh, emphasising her slender figure.

It had one strap over her right shoulder with ruffles that complimented the way Lysandra had styled her hair to the other side. Had it been blue he would have compared it to water, but it was a rich, green shade of fabric that stood out brightly against her pale skin and sun-kissed hair. The golden earrings she wore brought out the ring of gold in her eyes that crinkled as she gave him a soft smile. She seemed slightly unsure in her strappy heels but gained her confidence as she joined Lysandra where she stood by the side of the couch.

“Hot damn, ladies,” Aedion drawled, his eyes not straying from Lysandra for a second. “We’re ready I think, but I don’t know where Fenrys is.”

Rowan cleared his throat and tugged his eyes away from Aelin, but he noted the blush gracing her cheeks at his expression before he turned.

“I’m here,” Fenrys’ voice came from behind him as he left his bedroom. “Looking good.” He grinned at Aelin and Lysandra.

Rowan stood as Lorcan and Aedion did the same, getting ready to leave, and he wandered over to where Aelin stood.

“Nice suit,” She smiled as he walked towards her, crossing her hands on her bag across her front.

“Thanks, it’s Aedion’s.” He brushed his hands awkwardly down the front of his jacket. “Your dress is nice too.”

It was so much more than nice, but his brain was short-circuiting and didn’t seem to want to cooperate. Aelin smiled at the compliment and folded her arm around his own.

“Ready boyfriend?” She asked, a teasing lilt to her voice.

“Ready girlfriend.” He nodded at her and led the way out of the loft.

-----

The wedding was being held in an up-scale hotel in the city-centre. The floors were marble, and the sounds of her heels echoed throughout the room as Aelin walked in with the rest of the group. There were marble pillars stretching up to the elaborately decorated ceiling and flowers filled every available surface.

It was a beautiful wedding venue, Fenrys clearly hadn’t been lying when he said their friend from college was wealthy. He had made idle chatter with her in the Uber on their way, but she hadn’t taken much of what he said in, unable to draw her mind away from where Rowan’s leg was pressed against her own. Heat seeping through the layer of fabric of his trousers, the only barrier between their skin.

She held onto Rowan’s arm as they entered, they hadn’t spoken much since their brief exchange in the loft, but she knew he was nervous about seeing Lyria again. She hadn’t wanted to push him to talk, but they needed to begin their act and holding his arm seemed a good place to start.

She took in all of the guests milling about, there was a little while before the ceremony started yet and most of the guests were talking in small groups.

“Ro,” Aedion’s voice filled the air, “There’s Lyria.” He pointed subtly behind her and she felt Rowan tense. Aelin couldn’t spot Rowan’s ex in the crowd, she caught the sight of a head of dark hair before Rowan pulled her back around.

“Maybe she won’t spot us.” His voice was short.

“Ro,” Aedion began, “You’ll have to see her before this is over.”

“I know,” Rowan said running a hand over his hair. “But just—not yet.”

Aelin squeezed his arm in silent encouragement, and he relaxed slightly as he sent her a small smile.

“Well,” Lorcan’s voice broke in, “I’m getting myself to the bar to at least get one drink before this thing starts.”

“I’ll join you.” Lysandra said quickly and the two headed off into the crowd leaving Aelin with the three college friends.

“She’s looking this way.” Aedion said without looking away from Rowan, who slipped his arm around Aelin’s waist. She tried not to react to the warmth seeping through her dress from his hand, tried to remind herself why he had done it when it was so easy to sink into his side and tuck her shoulder under his arm.

-----

It was a beautiful service, the couple were clearly very much in love, even to Aelin who had never met the pair. At the end she even felt a little teary, the outpouring of love in Essar and her now-husbands vows had touched her. Once the ceremony was over the wedding relaxed a little and the guests mingled helping themselves to food and drinks. Aelin, Lysandra and the rest of the Loft 4D residents all made use of the open bar.

Rowan had played the doting boyfriend well.

A gentle hand on her lower back when he introduced her to other guests at the wedding, an arm along the back of her chair when they sat at their table for the speeches.

Aelin was dealing with his physical affection, trying to keep herself focused on remembering the reason for it and she wasn’t shying away herself. Resting her head against his shoulder or ghosting her lips across his cheek when Fenrys let slip that Lyria was nearby.

She hadn’t been introduced yet, and Aelin was wary but it wasn’t long until Rowan turned to her, his tie loosened and the top button of his shirt undone. She enjoyed seeing him dressed smartly, but he looked far more himself with the few steps taken to play down the formality. “We should probably go and say hi to Lyria.”

She took the final swig of her drink and linked her fingers through his. “Lead the way.”

He led her through the crowds towards where a woman with dark hair was talking in a group.

“Lyria,” He called.

“Rowan!” Lyria’s voice was high but soft as she turned to him.

Lyria was, in a word, stunning. Her dark hair framed her face perfectly and her poker-straight lengths shone under the gentle lights of the hotel. She was slender, but had curves that her tight, sea-blue cocktail dress highlighted, and she seemed to glide as she turned towards the pair. Rowan’s perfect opposite.

Her smile was blinding as she took in Rowan, who was attempting a small smile and Aelin squeezed his hand in hers. He glanced briefly down at her, returning the squeeze.

“Rowan, so good to see you. How have you been?” Lyria leaned in to peck his cheek, which he returned stiffly.

“I’ve been well thanks,” His voice was low as he slid his hand from Aelin’s to loop it around her waist, taking in the dark-haired gentleman holding Lyria’s hand. “And you?”

“Yes, well,” She laughed, a beautiful sound. “I’m well too, I’m sure you remember Rolfe from work.”

Aelin felt Rowan’s hand tighten on her waist as he stretched his other hand out to shake Rolfe’s. Aelin hadn’t anticipated Lyria bringing a date too. Was hers fake too? Based on Rowan’s reaction she guessed not.

“Yes, I’d like to introduce you to my girlfriend Aelin.”

Her time to shine.

“Great to meet you Lyria,” She offered her own hand and Lyria’s eyes lit up. Not quite the reaction that Aelin had expected, but she smiled sweetly and greeted her.

“You too,” Lyria’s smile was warm as she shook Aelin’s extended hand. “How long has this been going on?” Her tone was inquisitive, but not unkind.

They had planned out their story, as not to get it wrong. They planned to tell Lyria how Aelin had moved in almost two months ago, as was the truth.

The lie came with the part where they had realised their mutual attraction, and with the blessings of the others in the loft, had begun to date almost a month ago.

“About a month now.” The smile Rowan gave her as he answered had her breath catch in her throat.

Rowan needed to smile more if he looked like that when he did. Eyes sparkling, and lips pulling back to show rows of straight, white teeth. It softened his usually harsh expression.

“I’m happy for you, Rowan,” Lyria’s voice was sweet and Aelin could tell she was sincere. Whatever she had expected from Rowan’s ex after the stories she had heard about their numerous break-ups from Aedion and Fenrys, this wasn’t it.

“Thanks,” Rowan said, his breath brushing Aelin’s hair and raising the hairs down the line of her neck.

“And you guys look so good together, don’t they Rolfe?” Lyria pressed her hands to her heart turning to her boyfriend who nodded loyally.

She turned to Rowan, trying to look as in love as possible, and pressed herself into his chest. She wasn’t faking the blush that rushed to her cheeks at the thought that she and Rowan looked good together.

“Thanks,” Rowan said, not looking away from Aelin. He brushed his lips against her cheek, and Aelin couldn’t help but lean into it.

“It was really great seeing you, we’ll have to speak soon.” Lyria smiled as she and her boyfriend left, Aelin and Rowan giving their own goodbyes. She immediately felt Rowan relax, his hand drifting from her waist leaving her side cold.

“How was that?”

“Honestly?” He let out a small sigh, “Not too bad.”

“Good, I’m glad. I’m sure rubbing your fantastic new girlfriend in her face helped.” She smirked at him, and he laughed, throwing his arm around her shoulders and leading her back to the table the rest of their friends were sat at.

-----

The rest of the wedding was fun, she danced with Lysandra for what felt like hours. The pair laughing at the fact they had probably drank hundreds of dollars’ worth of drinks at a wedding for a couple they hadn’t met before. They had been introduced to Essar by Aedion who had been friendly and inviting, thanking them for coming.

She had danced with her cousin and Fenrys too, even shared a dance with Lorcan when Fenrys had crept off to play his hand with a bridesmaid.

She had been nervous to share a dance with Rowan, even though that was a large reason for her attendance at the event, after the conversation Lysandra had attempted to drag out of her in the ladies toilet.

“You and Rowan are looking awfully cosy,” her friend had teased.

Aelin shushed her, concerned that Lyria could have been hiding in a cubicle, but she knew it was ridiculous.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you and Aedion,” Lysandra had been looking pretty comfortable tucked under her cousin’s arm and holding his hand as they shared a dance.

She had managed to dismiss her friend, with the promise of discussing later, but had left the toilets and pulled Rowan straight up to dance.

She turned away from Lysandra’s not-so-subtle gesturing where she leaned against the bar with Aedion to rest her head on Rowan’s chest. They would talk about that later.

Her hands were locked around his neck, fingers interlinked as they swayed together, brushing the back of his shirt collar. He’d removed his jacket earlier, and she couldn’t help but prefer him a little ruffled.

She knew how this had to look to Lyria, knew they looked like every other couple on the dancefloor, and shuffled a little closer to Rowan. His hand on her lower back slid further around her side as he adjusted his grip to hold her tighter against his body. His other hand stayed resting by her shoulder, toying lightly with a lock of hair that had fallen out of Lysandra’s careful styling in the hours they’d been there.

He wasn’t a bad dancer, not that what they were doing exactly qualified as dancing, but his steps from side to side followed the rhythm of the old song playing in the background.

When I'm in your arms, nothing seems to matter

Aelin shouldn’t have felt as relaxed as she did, in the arms of Aedion’s college roommate turned Aelin’s roommate and fake-date for the evening. Especially considering she had noticed Rowan watching Lyria as she danced with her new boyfriend. His navy blue suit perfectly coordinated with Lyria’s dress.

It wasn’t lost on Aelin that her own dress, courtesy of Lysandra, matched the deep green of Rowan’s tie. A shade much darker, and not quite as lovely as the bright green of his eyes.

Lyria’s eyes seemed to flash over to the pair of them, and Aelin quickly pulled her gaze back to Rowan to find him looking down at her, a slight hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He played his part well. She easily could have believed his gaze was loving, that he was holding her this way because there was no other way he would hold her. She swallowed against the unwelcome thought.

My whole world could shatter, I don't care

“Your acting skills are better than I expected, I have to say,” he teased, his words snapping her out of the daze she had fallen into.

He was far more relaxed now than he had been earlier, she wondered if he was relieved that Lyria seemed to have bought their ruse. She stepped on his toe and he winced, still laughing slightly.

“My acting is almost as good as my dancing.” She grinned as she spun out of his arms and twirled back in. His smile was bright as he pulled her tightly in to rest against him, now even closer than they were before.

“Truly impressive”, he drawled sarcastically. She had no other response than to grin up at him, towering over her despite the heels she wore.

Wouldn't you agree, baby you and me got a groovy kind of love

It was his next sentence that stopped her slightly.

“Thanks for doing this, Aelin,” he said into her hair. “I didn’t want her pitying me.”

His eyes were back on Lyria, and Aelin dropped her hands from his neck to his chest, leaning back and away from him gently.

“It’s no problem,” She managed, “What are friends and new roommates for, right?”

She scanned the room, looking for an out that wouldn’t seem sketchy to Lyria. That’s who they were here to convince, Aelin wasn’t sure where her mind was headed but she needed to settle back into her fake-girlfriend role quickly. Emphasis on fake and quickly.

She spotted Lorcan sat at their table, whiskey in hand, and as the song finished and transitioned into something more upbeat she tugged herself out of the circle of Rowan’s arms and lead him by the hand over to where Lorcan was sat. She didn’t check to see if Lyria was watching.

“I’m not trying to convince my ex of anything Galathynius so don’t be expecting that of me.”

Lorcan nodded his head towards the dancefloor where Aedion and Lysandra were dancing to the new song. Lysandra’s movements much smoother than Aedion’s.

Aelin didn’t miss the smile threatening to break through onto the lips of her best friend as she watched a drunk Aedion flail uncontrollably.

“Someone would have needed to date you first for that to happen, Salvaterre,” she bit back mockingly.

She and Rowan were both ready to take a seat when Fenrys appeared over Rowan’s shoulder, having apparently lucked out with the bridesmaid.

“Her loss,” he had shrugged.

“That looks like fun,” He said, grabbing Aelin’s hand as he led her over to join Aedion and Lysandra. His dancing even worse than Aedion’s, despite their comparable levels of intoxication.

Not bothering to hold back her smile as she danced with her new roommate, Aelin relaxed into the song not bothering with any particular steps. Seconds passed until they were joined, albeit reluctantly, by Rowan and a stiff Lorcan.

Her limbs were loose, and so was her smile. She didn’t care how they looked to Lyria now, she wasn’t sure it ever really mattered to her.

-----

When they arrived back at the loft Fenrys and Lorcan hauled a now-babbling Aedion to his room, having bid Lysandra goodbye at the venue. She had promised to text Aelin when she was home safely, and that they would debrief the next day. Aelin made her way to the kitchen for a glass of water, kicking her shoes off and not bothering to check where they landed.

The cool water cleared her head slightly, and she tapped some of the beads of condensation off the glass along her forehead, trying to sober up before heading to bed. She wasn’t drunk, but even going to bed mildly tipsy always made her feel unwell.

She turned when she heard the nearby cupboard door open as Rowan grabbed a glass for himself. She must have missed him come into the kitchen, distracted thinking about the night.

He’d kept his jacket off, and his tie was gone now too, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. She followed the motion as he turned the tap on, filled his own glass and started to drink.

She wasn’t supposed to be looking at Rowan like that. Wasn’t supposed to notice how the rumpled look was working for him or how the rolling of his sleeves highlighted his muscular forearms; they lived together.

She shouldn’t have let herself be so affected by what they had done tonight, they had managed to escape without sharing a kiss, the furthest they got was pressing their lips to each other’s cheeks. Only a tiny part of her was disappointed.

She looked up from his arms to catch him looking at her, eyebrows raised. She shook her head, hoping he wouldn’t ask, and cleared her throat but his question beat her to it.

“How long do you give it for Aedion to actually make a move on Lysandra?” He asked with a conspirator’s grin.

“Don’t,” She sighed, passing a hand over her forehead. “He would never. She’s my best friend, and especially not now that I live here.”

He shrugged at her; he clearly didn’t agree with her assessment.

“He might. He’ll probably hope you forgive him if it fucks anything up though.”

The look he gave her didn’t seem like a joke anymore, but then he shrugged again and turned to put his glass in the sink.

“Night, Aelin.”

“Night.” She whispered back as he left the kitchen. She stayed stood, leaning against the worktop waiting to hear his bedroom door close.

Shit, she thought to herself. Probably not for the last time.

This was Rowan, her roommate. Her new friend.

She bent over the counter, pressing her face into the cool surface. Maybe she could pass this off as drunken pondering.

Rowan being friendly and hot was something she needed to ignore. Maybe this would pass, maybe it was only because she was recently single and now surrounded by guys. Honestly it was bound to happen.

But she needed to not mess this up, which looking at Rowan like she was tonight might very well do. He wasn’t looking at her the same way. Probably.

She whirled, leaving her own glass on the side, and marched into her bedroom, the one opposite Rowan’s. But she wasn’t thinking about that, she needed this loft to work out.

-----

tags:

@jesstargaryenqueen

@maybekindasortaace

@slytheringalathynius

@http-itsrebecca

@morganofthewildfire

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato

@fictional-horan

@tottenhamboys20

@dressedindustandshadows

@sleeping-and-books

@perseusannabeth

@ireallyshouldsleeprn

As always if I’ve missed anyone please let me know!!

#rowaelin #rowaelin fic #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #aedion ashryver #lysandra #aedion x lysandra #lorcan salvaterre #fenrys moonbeam #throne of glass fic #rowaelin fanfic #aelin x rowan #fake dating

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evienyx · 4 years

Note

How did the staff in the palace feel about zuko ‘s Agni Kai?

The Staff of the Fire Nation Royal Palace had seen a lot in a short amount of time.

It was always interesting to work in the palace, of course. Being up close with the people who ran their glorious nation was something that people yearned for. Everyone knew it was better to work in the Fire Nation royal palace that as a laborer down by the docks, or a farmer out in the fields, or even, sometimes, a merchant in the streets. The royal palace was the most air-conditioned place, it had the easiest access to medical care, and the streets surrounding it were the most guarded ones in the whole country.

What those who worked outside of the palace didn’t know was that working in the Fire Nation royal palace was one of the most dangerous jobs one could get in the homeland (no one would ever dare say that the troops didn’t have the most dangerous jobs).

It was a thing that fresh blood in the palace learned rather quickly. It was necessary. Older members of the staff would teach them. Servants would bring in their children when they were young and impressionable to make sure that they understood. Guards would send carefully-worded letters to people they knew who were still in the Academy or at other posts that were assigned to arrive at the palace soon. Older chefs would only let the newer ones touch the food after six months of just shadowing. Everyone in the staff was at an understanding about these things.

It was just the way that things were.

A surprisingly small amount of the staff actually interacted with the royal family. The royals had their small amount of personal staff, the best of the best, and anyone else who worked in the palace just made sure that things ran smoothly. The bath staff would interact with the royals when they visited the bathhouse. The chefs would interact indirectly whenever they got specific orders for meals. Guards of certain parts of the palace would interact occasionally when a royal passed through there. Other than that, though, nothing. Younger servants who joined the palace staff with delusions of being noticed and swept off their feet by whatever royal was closest to them in age had their dreams swiftly and mercilessly crushed when they went their first half-year working without seeing hide nor hair of a single royal.

There were few exceptions.

Everyone on the palace staff knew of the odd friendship between Prince Lu Ten and Keeli, one of the girls who’d been groomed from a young age by her mother to join the palace staff. Still, though, outside of his friendship (if you could call it that, considering multiple girls on Keeli’s rotation had glimpsed the two stealing kisses in abandoned corridors) with her, the prince didn’t interact with any of the staff more than the rest of his family did. At least he smiled at a few of them if he passed them. That was far greater than most of the other royals.

Prince (General) Iroh would do the same as his son (which must have been where Lu Ten got it from). He never snapped at the staff. That automatically made him a favorite of many.

Princess Azula was on the opposite end of the spectrum, having taken very much after her own father. She barked orders and paraded around with an air of intense superiority and she burned things that were really just a hassle to clean up and replace.

Prince (Fire Lord) Ozai was worse than his daughter was, because while she was always on the brink of losing her sanity, he was completely and utterly in his right mind, and it made him even more terrifying.

(Everyone knew he was the one who killed young Chiaki and then blamed the child for destroying the painting, too).

(Chiaki had been thirteen).

(Prince Ozai had been eleven).

Princess Ursa was a bit of an odd case, as she hadn’t been born or grown up royal. She had even been born and raised in a village. Still, she had been a descendant of Avatar Roku, and that did not come with monetary perks. She was kind to the servants, thanked them more than other royals did, but she didn’t do anything more. If she saw someone being punished unjustly, she wouldn’t step in to help. As a result, no one was inclined to step in and help her.

Never let it be said that the staff of the Fire Nation royal palace weren’t petty as hell when they wanted to be.

All of the Fire Nation royals were relatively what could be expected. There was nothing strange about them, really. Some were cruel, some were kind but distant, some had their favorites, that was it. That was all.

Prince Zuko, though, was the outlier.

He skipped through the corridors, free from pressure that settled onto the shoulders of other royals in the palace, as he was fourth in line for the throne. His grandfather was alive, and his uncle was the heir, then his cousin, then his father, and then him. He didn’t have to worry about a future ruling, and he didn’t have to worry about anything that the staff did. He was in that beautiful little niche of contentment.

That should have been a recipe for disaster. A royal without any pressure to one day rule the country? He should have been arrogant, unforgiving, completely above consequence and completely above those around him.

Yet, he wasn’t.

It took a while, but word and rumors spread quickly through the staff of the Fire Nation royal palace.

Prince Zuko skipped with a heaviness to his step, but not the same kind as that of his family. It was not the kind of heaviness that came with the pressure of what was to come, the pressure to succeed.

Prince Zuko skipped with a heaviness that was foreign to the Fire Nation royal family. It was a heaviness that showed everyone that he wasn’t good enough and he knew it and he knew he couldn’t change it.

The realization first spread after a guard near the training yard let slip during a graveyard shift that Prince Ozai had burned his seven-and-a-half-year-old son across the arm and told him to sit through the pain if he wanted to prove himself as a true firebender. The story spread through the palace staff like wildfire, and they all began to take note of Prince Zuko more than they had before.

The boy moved through the halls of the palace with a sadness that no one had thought to take notice of before. One of the servants to Princess Ursa told the others when the Princess found out about her son’s injury she had him rushed off to the medical wing to be wrapped immediately. The healer who helped Prince Zuko said that any longer and a horrible infection would likely have grabbed hold. The boy walked around with his arm wrapped close to his chest for the next month, and could be heard complaining about not being allowed to train until he was fully healed.

For the first time, it occurred to the staff of the Fire Nation royal palace that maybe he wasn’t upset because he was bored, but because he was falling behind even more, and he wanted to get better and prove to his father that he could.

Despite everything, Prince Zuko continued to be strange. Though he nearly fell apart after the death of his beloved cousin, he somehow managed to still be nice. It was... odd.

Once he was the Crown Prince, that heaviness he had always walked the corridors with seemed to double down on itself. Without his mother and cousin, the two people he always seemed closest with, it seemed as if the boy had nowhere to turn. Guards from the hallways reported to the other members of the staff that the prince tried to talk to his Uncle, General Iroh, but the former crown prince was so lost in his grief that it was as if the boy was talking to a brick wall.

Still, Prince Zuko would talk to his uncle, and bring him tea, and he would tell him about his day. General Iroh would watch Zuko with an odd glimmer of pain in his eye, as if he was trying to see the boy for who he was, yet his grief-addled mind would only allow him to see Zuko for who he was not.

Then, a year after the death of his son, General Iroh left, and despite the fact that he still had a sister and a father, the staff saw the way that Prince Zuko was suddenly alone.

He should have been withdrawn. He should have lashed out at people and gotten more aggressive and he should have gotten closer with his remaining (crazy violent) family members.

Instead, he seemed to try and live as if nothing had happened.

Prince Zuko started talking to the staff more.

He would ask for the names of people. He tried to memorize them. He sent a jolt of shock through every person he asked the name of. It was surprising. He knew the names of a few guards that were frequently assigned to him. He knew the name of the seventeen-year-old girl who woke him every morning to get ready for the day.

He would sit in the courtyards and talk to the turtleducks about everything he wanted to do to make the Fire Nation better when he became Fire Lord.

He would hide out in his chambers and pluck the strings on the pipa that he had hidden in a closet near his bed.

He pushed himself in his firebending training harder than ever.

(Not that it was ever enough for his father).

He was sent off to Master Piandao one summer to learn to use the dual dao (while Fire Lord Ozai trained his daughter even harder back home), and he came back and practiced that, too.

He would pay extra attention in his lessons. He would ask more questions, and he would put that fake smile on his face, and he would pretend that everything was all right.

Then, one day, he sneaked into a war meeting.

To this day, the guards on duty that day won’t give a straight answer to anyone about whether or not they saw the young prince slipping into the room and hiding behind a curtain.

The guards outside the room, though, will give you a full version about what happened after. They will tell you about how one general proposed a plan to sacrifice new, young recruits just for glory, and how Prince Zuko jumped out from behind a curtain and proclaimed that he couldn’t do that. They will tell you how Fire Lord Ozai rose on his throne and declared that the prince must fight an Agni Kai to regain his honor, and how the prince said confidently that he would.

Then the guards who watched the prince over the next week as the duel approached would tell you about how they overheard him telling the turtleducks that he could easily beat the old general.

Then everyone would tell you about how very wrong the boy was.

It was a painful day for the staff of the Fire Nation royal palace when Prince Zuko was burned by his own father and told that to learn he would have to suffer.

The healers helped him, and about a month later he was finally, fully awake.

The messenger who had to tell the prince that he was to be banished will never speak of that day. No one else on the staff besides that lone messenger knows, to this day, that the prince was even meant to be banished.

Members of the staff recall vividly how they saw the boy race through the halls, past servants and guards, for once not greeting any of them or even smiling as he stormed to the throne room.

The guards to the throne room were shocked enough to let him through.

They were the last to see him for over three years.

The staff mourned the loss, quietly. In the daylight, Prince Zuko was nothing more than a faded memory. In the shadows, he was a name that the palace staff would drink to, together. Some were more attached to the memory of the prince than others, so no one noticed much when, during these drinks, Keeli, that old friend of Prince Lu Ten’s, would cry. No one noticed much when the stoic guard Ming or the guard that always tagged along with her, Lee, would exchange an oddly hard glance. No one noticed much when another guard, Tyne, would grip the hand of her husband, Anzo, and down her glass in one go.

The staff wondered when he would return from wherever the Fire Lord had taken him. They wondered how he would have changed.

But no one said anything, because the Staff of the Fire Nation Royal Palace had seen many, many things, and they knew that that was just the way things were. It was dangerous to be a member of the staff. They all knew that.

But the feeling that everyone got the day that the prince returned, emerging from a random door in a random corridor looking one step from keeling over, the feeling that started in their chests and warmed their whole bodies in a rush of glee, made the staff feel like, sometimes, it was worth it.

#fractures atla #ask #ask away #it got away from me again #ok so i take liberties with zukos childhood when it comes to this fic #ignore it #still this is very long #i dont know how but anyway i love the staff #like as a whole i mean #if you couldnt tell #in other news this is the 500th post on this tumblr #thats kinda nuts kinda funky kinda fresh ngl

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stilloutofmyvulcanmind · 4 years

Text

The Wedding

Pairing: Earth-2 Harry Wells x Female!Reader

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: None

Summary: Needing a date for a cousin’s wedding, you ask your colleague and friend Harry to pretend to be your boyfriend for the day. But is it really pretend when you’re already secretly in love with him?

A/N: My first fully-fledged Harry fic! Ahhhh! If you guys like it and want more, there may be a smutty sequel

"Got any plans the weekend, Harry?" Cisco asked, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms. "Or you just gonna wait here for us to get back?"

Harry glared at him from behind his coffee mug. "Actually, Ramon, I do my best work when I don't have your incessant drivel in my ear."

"Oh yeah, hot stuff? What grand piece of technology are you gonna bless upon us on Monday then? A personality transplant?" Cisco laughed, narrowly swiveling out of the way of the pen that came hurtling towards his head.

"Nothing this week. I have other plans."

"Suuuch as?"

"Y/N invited me to her cousin's wedding and asked for me to…pretend we're together. So she doesn't get inundated by annoying questions."

"Ohhh myyy God!"

"What?"

"Look, I know my fiction tropes and fake dating? It's a classic! And it's only gonna end one way, my dude."

Harry raised an eyebrow and took a sip of coffee.

"With you two declaring your love for each other."

Nearly choking, Harry coughed up the drink, his grip on the armrest turning knuckle white. "I...are you…suggesting that I… love Y/N?!"

"And that she loves you, genius."

Spluttering, Harry shot up from his seat. "Don't be absurd, Ramon! Y/N doesn't love me! The only reason she asked me was because you and Allen are already in relationships! Th-there's no love! Or any romantic…feelings. Why would there be? She's…smart and kind and beautiful! She's brave and strong and I assure you there's no universe in which she'd ever love me!"

Cisco looked at him a moment, smile curling up on his lips. "See, I was just teasing you before, but wow, dude, you're really in love with her."

"Maybe you're in love with her!"

Cisco simply raised his own mug, failing to hide his own smirk behind it.

"... Shut up, Ramon."

"Thanks for agreeing to this, Hare," you said, smiling over your shoulder at him before resuming your task of unpacking.

"It's fine. Nice to get out of the Labs for once." Harry dropped his bag on the armchair of the hotel room you were sharing and hooked the one carrying his suit on the bathroom door frame. "But uh," he gestured to the one bed in the room, "how are we going to negotiate this?"

"I've got that covered." Reaching into your case, you pulled out the rolled-up sleeping bag.

Harry made a face. "You expect me to let you sleep in that?"

"I expect you to play me for it." Dropping the bag down, you held up a closed fist. "Paper, rock, scissors."

Harry stared at you a moment then laughed. The sound made your stomach flip in the giddiest of ways. "You should know I've never lost a game," he said, walking towards you.

"There's a first time for everything, Doctor Wells."

"Bring it on, Y/L/N."

You looked yourself over in the bathroom mirror a final time, adding the final touches to your make-up and clasping a silver necklace in place. You were ready, and looking pretty damn fine. Knee-length and with a cold shoulder, the midnight blue dress fit you perfectly. Exiting, with the intent on adding your shoes, you stopped short when you saw the sight in front of you.

Harry was dressed in a suit that matched the shade of blue you wore, an unintentional but useful detail for your ruse, the white button up standing out stark against the jacket. The most distracting detail was the fact that he'd left one too many of the top buttons undone, leaving a tantalizing amount of neck on display.

Not for the first time you wondered if asking Harry to be your fake boyfriend for the day was your smartest idea. Being forced to share a bedroom and pretend to be smitten with the man you were already in love with was definitely going to take a toll on your sanity. But showing up to yet another family event filled with happy couples on your own, and having to deflect the endless questions as to why seemed worse than having to spend forty-eight trying not to go mad.

"Y/N," Harry's voice broke you free from the trance, "you...you look…nice."

"Thanks. So do you! Who knew you scrubbed up so well." You moved around Harry quickly, avoiding looking at him too much and sat on the edge of the bed, to pull on your heels, while he tucked the sleeping bag he'd ended up using away out of sight.

"Ready?" You asked, finishing up and grabbing your purse.

"As I'll ever be." Harry opened the door for you, then locked it behind you both before passing you the key to tuck away in your purse.

Even though the hotel had been booked by your cousin for all the out of town guests, you hadn't expected to do much pretending until the reception. While guests were mingling on their way to the ceremony, there wasn't much time to chat yet, so not much time for prying questions or close observations either. Harry, however, seemed prepared to delve straight into it. He took your hand in his almost immediately, giving you a quick glance to make sure it was okay, then walked with you to the elevator. It was a simple gesture, but it sent your heart racing.

How the hell were you going to survive the day?

You were starting to think you'd accidentally brought another Wells doppelganger to the wedding. A much more polite, charming doppelganger, because it had been two hours now and Harry had yet to reduce anyone to tears or be anything more than a little sardonic.

"Who are you and what have you done to Harry Wells?" you whispered in his ear as you lined up outside the fancy hall to congratulate the newlyweds and take your seats for the reception meal.

Harry chuckled. "I don't think your family would approve of your new 'boyfriend' if I was my usual self."

"Okay, fair. Still, it's weird. I wasn't aware you even knew how to be charming."

"You don't build a billion-dollar research company by not knowing how to occasionally butter people up."

"Well, thank you. It must be painful for you, and I appreciate it."

Harry smiled at you softly. It was the same one you'd only ever previously seen him use on Jesse. It did a funny little thing to your heart and nearly distracted you from the hand that came to rest low on your back as he guided you forward.

"Annie! Congratulations!" You beamed, hugging your cousin and kissing her on the cheek. "You look beautiful!"

"Thank you!" Both she and her new husband couldn't stop grinning, and you loved how happy they looked.

"Uh, this is Harry, my boyfriend." The word sounded strange to say.

"A pleasure. Congratulations," Harry smiled, shaking both their hands.

"I could hardly believe it when Y/N told me she'd be bringing a plus one! You kept that one quiet!"

Laughing nervously, you shrugged. "We wanted to keep it on the down-low for a bit."

"Wanted to keep him to yourself more like!"

"That too."

"You know, you look kinda familiar, Harry, but I can't- oooh! I know! You look like that scientist Y/N used to crush on! What was his name again, Y/N?"

Feeling the heat rapidly spread up your neck and across your cheeks, you looked at anywhere other than Harry. "I, uh, I can't remember now."

Annie gave you a knowing look, but Harry came to your rescue before any more embarrassment could be had. "We'll let you greet the rest of your guests. Congratulations, again."

"Thank you, Harry. Talk later."

Harry led you into the beautifully decorated hall, his hand still hovering on your back as you made your way to the table. You were the first ones there to take a seat, which meant you were unable to escape the look he gave you.

"So, you used to have a crush on Harrison Wells?" He asked with an amused eyebrow raise.

You groaned, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole. "In my defense that was years before I joined the Team and found out about the whole evil speedster thing. Don't mention it to anyone, please?"

Harry looked at you a moment longer, then nodded. "It stays between us."

"Thank you."

Other guests began to arrive at your table, and the topic was dropped.

The food was amazing and the company just as much, and with the distraction of other people to talk to, it was easier to ignore the constant butterflies in your stomach.

After the meal and the speeches and the first dance, people began to mingle. You and Harry mostly stayed at your table, however, talking with your Great Aunt Margaret. The woman was in her nineties now, but she was just as sharp as ever, and probably one of the members of your family you were closest too.

"Another drink, ladies?" Harry asked after a little while.

"Gin and tonic for me, dear."

"Y/N?"

"Just an orange juice." As tempting as it was to just drown your feelings in alcohol, keeping a clear meant it was far less likely you'd make a fool of yourself by saying something you regretted.

Harry nodded, standing from the table and heading over to the bar.

"So, who’s he really?" Margaret asked as soon as Harry was out of earshot.

"What do you mean? He's my boyfriend." Margaret fixed you with her infamous 'cut the bullshit' look. "He's a co-worker. A friend. I asked him so I wouldn't have to show up to another family function alone."

Margaret watched you thoughtfully. "That's what I thought. You've been too skittish around him for you to be together."

"Was it that obvious?"

"Only to me, dear." She smiled and leaned across the table to you. "But you two need to talk."

"Why?"

"Because it's clear he's more than just a friend to you, and he's hopelessly in love with you."

"Wh-what? No, he's not!"

"Dear, I don't think I've ever seen a man more in love."

"I…" Looking away and down at your hands, you chewed your lip. "How do you know?"

"The way he looks at you. It's plain to see."

"No, no, I'd have noticed if he'd been looking at me like that!"

"We don't reveal our true feelings when the object of them is watching. We wait until we think they aren't looking. And the way that man looks at you when you aren't paying attention...it's like you hung the moon. I can tell you there aren't many people lucky enough to be on the receiving end of that kind of adoration."

"Oh."

Margaret's smile was kind when you met her gaze again. "Talk to Harry, Y/N. You deserve to be happy, and I get the feeling he does too."

"He does. He's been through a lot."

"Did I miss anything?" Harry returned carrying your drinks.

"Just some girl talk. Thank you," Margaret said as he set the glasses down in front of you. "Why don't you two have a dance?"

"Oh no, you know I'm not much of dancer-"

"Nonsense! I went to enough of your dance rehearsals to know better!"

"Aunt Margaret-"

"All the other couples are up dancing! You don't want to be the odd duck, do you?" To anyone else, Margaret's happy grin seemed innocent enough. You knew better. "Go on! Off with you! I'll watch your drinks!"

Before you could protest further, you were being poked out of your seat by her walking stick in your ribs.

Harry followed suit before he too came under attack, and took your hand as you merged into the crowd already on the dance floor.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. I'm the one who should be apologizing for this-" Harry pulled a few moves that could really only be described as 'dad dancing.'

Muffling a laugh with your hand, "That's…something," you giggled, swaying your own body in time with the music.

"Told you."

"Maybe one day I'll teach you a few moves. Ready for when you have to do your Father/Daughter dance with Jesse."

Harry groaned, "Don't. Don't make me think about that."

Giggling again, it turned into a squeak of surprise when Harry suddenly grabbed your hand and twirled you around.

"That's what happens when you tease," he grinned, hands landing on your hips to steady you.

"Not the worst punishment I could think of."

"Oh, and what is?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Maybe."

Realizing you were suddenly on the border of flirting, you shrugged. "You know, the usual. The same stuff everyone else hates as punishment," you mumbled.

"I see." It seemed like Harry was going to step back and let go of your hips when the song changed. A slow song. A slow, romantic song. Harry swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing, "We should...head back?"

You were going to nod when you looked across the floor to spot Margaret. She motioned for you to move close together. "Or...we could stay. Unless you want to get whacked with a walking stick that is."

"No. No, I don't."

It was awkward for a moment, then Harry took you into hold, one hand staying on your hip while he took one of your own in the other, with your free arm finding it's way to his shoulder.

He smiled. You returned it. Together you started to sway softly to the music.

It was way too intimate. More intimate than you really had the capacity to deal with, especially after your earlier conversation with Margaret. So you did the only thing you could think of to not have to look Harry in the eye. You lay your head on his chest.

For a split second, Harry's breath seemed to hitch, then it evened out again, though his hold on you tightened slightly, drawing you in until there was no space left between you.

Okay so maybe this was actually way more intimate. But at least now, with your head tilted away from him, you didn't have to hide the sappy smile that spread across your face.

Yet your mind was still racing. Was Margaret right? She'd never been wrong before. But that would mean Harry actually loved you in return, and that...that was nearly enough to make your brain explode.

You would have to tell him. He'd never say anything himself. But when? Now? Later? Tomorrow? Next week? That would be safest. If things went sour you wouldn't have to share a room or a car, and you could simply retreat to the safety of your apartment and eat away your feelings. Yet it felt like if you didn't say anything soon you'd implode.

It was so hard to think when he was still swaying you like this and was he…he was resting his cheek on top of your head. He was relaxed. Enjoying it just as much as you were.

The song came to an end, and Harry's grip loosened enough for you to take a step back. He didn't say a word. Just looked at you with that soft smile again.

You had to say something. Now. Just say the words and tell him. It'd be fine. You just had to say three little words.

"I...I'm really warm. I'm gonna go get some fresh air."

Coward.

Turning before you could see his face drop, you wormed your way off the dance floor and made a beeline for the door, exiting out into the garden and the cool night air.

"Stupid, stupid!" You muttered under your breath, pacing up and down the cobblestone path. How could you have chickened out like that? The opportunity was right there. And there was no way Harry would've bought the 'needing fresh air' excuse, which meant now you had to come up with something more believable or leave it feeling awkward. Why did you have to fuck it all up?

"Y/N?" Harry's voice from behind you nearly startled you out of your skin. Spinning around, you saw him approach, illuminated by garden lights that lined the path. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine."

"If I did something-"

"No! You didn't do anything. You've been amazing all day, Harry."

Nodding, Harry came to a stop in front of you. "You ran out so quickly, I thought...maybe…"

"It's not you, I just...I had to get out before I did something potentially very stupid. We both know how much you hate stupid."

"The last thing you could ever be is stupid."

"Says the man with seven PhDs. Pretty much everyone is stupid to you."

"Never you."

The way he was looking at you...it made you want to turn and run. There were too many emotions in his eyes, and it almost made you hate the hope that bubbled up in your chest.

Harry was the first to move, running a hand through his hair as he turned away. "Ramon...he said this would happen. I thought...I told him not to be ridiculous. Now here I am…he'll never let me live it down."

"What did he say would happen?" You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Taking a breath, Harry faced you. "He said I'd end up...saying how I love you."

The world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you, the din from the party could no longer be heard, the garden disappeared, only you and Harry and the thumping of your heart remained. "You love me?"

"How could I not? You're...special. I'm not an easy person to get on with. I know I'm an annoying, cantankerous dick, and while I can act the charmer, when I'm just being…me, I can't, I don't...I don't always find it easy being around people. Except you. From the start being around you was easy. You know when to call me out or when to let me rant, and always you're kind. You're smart and brave and beautiful and I love you."

You stood in shock, simply staring at him. You'd never expected him to say anything let alone make a confession like that.

Harry cleared his throat, "Of course I value your friendship above anything else. Say the word and I'll never mention it-"

"I love you too. I wanted to say it in there, after our dance, but I couldn't…I was too scared it wouldn't be reciprocated."

For a breath, Harry hesitated, then he took your face in his hands, fingers curling around the back of your neck and pulled you into a kiss. Your response was immediate, kissing him back as fiercely as he kissed you, your own hands clutching at his arms. It was everything you'd ever imagined and then some.

Breaking the kiss Harry stayed where he was, holding you as if he were scared you'd slip away if he let go.

"Wow," you whispered, leaning your forehead against his.

"I should've said something sooner."

"I should've too, but it doesn't matter now."

"No, it doesn't."

Unable to stop the giggling like a schoolgirl, you kissed him again. "Just so you know I'm going to want a lot of these kisses."

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

"I love you, Harrison Wells."

"I love you too."

Best wedding ever.

Like what you read? Consider buying me a coffee! I’ll love you forever!

Tagging: @pinkdiamond1016

#harry wells x reader #harrison wells x reader #earth 2 harrison wells x reader #harry wells #harrison wells #harry wells imagine #harrison wells imagine #the flash imagine

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for-ests · 4 years

Text

Behind Closed Doors: Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader (Part 1)

Summary: As a famous actor yourself, private affairs are few and far between. The only part of your life that had been private was your two year-long relationship with Japanese heartthrob, actor and model, Kuroo Tetsurou. After you and Kuroo endure a messy breakup from the implications of multiple misunderstandings, you are forced to attend an interview for your upcoming film. A film that you are also co-starring with Kuroo in.

Warnings: angst, breakup, possible triggers

Word count: 1, 345

AN: Please lmk if you’d like me to start a series, and if you’d like to be tagged, I think I could have a lot of fun writing something like this :’) (mlist)

“So, Y/N,” The reporter crossed her legs with a devilish smile. One that was mischievous in a teasing, yet encouraging way. “The last segment I want to touch on, is your relationship with co-star Kuroo Tetsurou. The fans are just dying to know.”

Your stomach lurched.

The journalist, Jessica, leaned forward—eager to figure out the truth for herself. Two costars falling in love while on set was a dream that many people believed could be true. Some though, refused to believe it since neither of you had confirmed your off screen romance.

And now, reflecting on what unfolded three nights ago was enough to make you lie through your teeth. Right now, you were going to save yourself the grief of the entire world knowing what happened to you behind closed doors. You were going to tell them that Kuroo had never meant anything to you. He was only your coworker. Nothing more.

“You’re sneaky.” You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood and cover up the pause you had made mid-interview.

Truthfully, you should have prepared yourself better for a question like this. The interview was about your upcoming movie, the one you had kissed Kuroo Tetsurou in multiple times. Of course there were rumors, of course there were questions.

Hope though, was a disappointing thing. You had hoped to keep the interview focused on you, on your talents, on anything else but him.

But your connection with Kuroo was obvious. And you would have admitted everything right then and there, if you and him had still been together. Unfortunately, it was too late for that.

“From the snippets of the movie that I’ve seen, the two of you have real chemistry. Something I haven’t seen in a long time.” Jessica’s eyebrows knit together as you struggled to reply to her kind words. She was a popular interviewer in your line of work, a reporter that balanced the line of being an established magazine, versus an over dramatic tabloid. “It was refreshing.” She added for good measure.

“Thank you.” A grin spread across your face. Though you had been an actress for many years, this movie was truly your big break. And because of that, the anxiety of getting wrapped up with the wrong people followed, along with having the wrong rumors spread about you.

Your relationship with Kuroo had been a secret because the last thing you wanted your legacy to be was Kuroo Tetsurou’s ex girlfriend. His scorned lover that was desperate to reach his level, but never could, essentially labeled as a one hit wonder.

You were more than that. You deserved more than that.

You had worked so hard to get to this point. You were starring in your own feature film, you had the talent, you had the drive and you had the looks.

Yet, sadly, all that could be erased by one man. All your hard work could be diminished by the truth, that the two of you had been in love since the start.

That didn’t happen in Hollywood. Real love was dangerous.

Those negative thoughts swirled through your mind, as they had been for weeks now. You needed to protect yourself and your brand. Kuroo didn’t actually love you, who were you kidding? You had made a mistake.

Fame came with a newfound outlook on life, and it was up to the person on what they did with their wealth and connections. Most grew incredibly large egos, some felt entitled to endless blessings, few stayed normal, and even less grew to hate themselves.

You were one of the few. You had developed crippling anxiety and every time someone as so mentioned your name, your insecurity intensified. You had become distracted by Kuroo and all his promises, which was the number one thing you were trying to leave in your past. If you were going to become successful, you need to get over your hopeless crush.

“Lovely, indeed.” The interviewer said with genuine interest. All of a sudden, you realized you had been talking.

“Sorry to go off on a tangent though, everyone knows how much I loved being on set.” You gathered your composure and pieced together your surroundings. Jessica’s expression radiated pleasure, so whatever you said made sense. Whatever you said was fitting enough. But it was time to address the dreadful question.

“My relationship with Tetsurou... It was just for the movie.” You voice faltered slightly as you managed to get the answer out. “We’re just friends.”

She raised her eyebrows.

Your smile cracked, and for a moment, the pain was visible in your expression. You glanced away from the interviewer, ashamed. You were an actress, faking your emotions should be easy for you.

The camera definitely picked up your discomfort. How you had suddenly shifted positions awkwardly, and how your eyes glossed over for the slightest moment. People were going to pick up on the lie. The woman in front of you, Jessica, obviously had.

“That’s unfortunate. You and Kuroo had me fooled for sure.” Her questioning gaze faded as the next question rolled on by.

Yet, just the mention of his name shattered your heart into a million pieces. And because of your status, there was no way to escape the internal torment. There were upcoming movie premieres, there were more interviews and plenty more events to attend.

There was no escaping him.

And for Kuroo, it felt like there was no escaping you.

When he got out of bed the next morning, your name was trending on Twitter. The interview was posted on YouTube from the company who had set up the project.

Your radiant smile was what greeted him when he pulled up the video. His finger hovered over the play button, and for a moment, he stopped.

He needed to get over you. He had to. Keeping tabs on your success would only bring him deeper into despair. But he watched anyways, even as his best friend Kenma, the director of the movie, texted him with a warning.

Kenma:> Not good bro. You might not want to watch it.

In the beginning, you had held yourself with grace and confidence. But as the questions continued, Kuroo could physically see them wearing away at your mental state. They continued to get more personal, and many of them alluded to him. The one topic he knew you were hoping to avoid.

And when that one question left the interviewer’s lips, he watched your gaze fall to the ground. You masked your discomfort with a mystifying smile, what you often did in awkward situations. That was why everyone loved you, you always knew how to make others feel better, even if it cost you your own sanity.

You were kind. You were genuine, yet you remained ignorant about your own potential. It was hard for outsiders to see, but he knew you better than most. He was your lover... or had been.

So truthfully, he was shocked to hear your answer.

“We’re just friends.”

The answer seemed to physically pain you. Your eyes were glistening in the light’s reflection, lips glossy from the many times you had anxiously licked them.

Kuroo noticed this, his own heartstrings pulling in multiple different directions. There was no way you had lied like that. There was no way you could deny what the two of you shared. Yet, what else could he expect from you than for you to pretend he had never existed?

Definitely more. You meant more to him than that. And he could see that you felt the same.

Kuroo wouldn’t have felt this way if the breakup had been right. His feelings for you remained consistent, his heart remained yours.

Days had passed and all he could think about was talking to you again.

Practically half awake, Kuroo sat fully up in his bed. A bed that you had once been a concurrent occupant in. It felt cold without you. He felt cold without you.

Because of his revelation, Kuroo swiped up your contact and sent you a text.

Kuroo:> we need to talk, Y/N.

You responded almost immediately as if you had been expecting it.

Y/N:> I know.

tag list!

@tamcitrus @akaashit-baeji @writeiolite @bokutokoutarou @dorkyama @infamouswhitepawsies @heccingdead @kingkags @raevaioli

#Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader #haikyuuwritersnet #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #Kuroo Tetsurou

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greasygyeom · 4 years

Text

Title: Blame it on Me [Part II: Where Do We Go From Here?]

By: GreasyGyeom

Summary: what is someone supposed to do when they have to choose between the love of their life and the career of their dreams.

Word Count: 9.2k

Yugyeom x Reader / Angst, smut (kinda)..more angst. (i use noona but just pretend it’s y/n)

Warnings: Mature content please read only if 18+

Author’s Note: i am back after two weeks this is a character development guys. hope you like part II !! if you do leave an ask or write in your tags. i love hearing from you guys! tell me if it made you feel something. if there’s spelling errors, let me know hahaha. love you guys and thank you for reading.

Read Part I here

Your night burnt by slowly, filled with explanations and fake acceptances of congratulations that everyone showered you with; that you had no interest in. The only reason you stayed awake was because you were hoping Yugyeom would actually come back. Little did you know he’d been so drunk BamBam had to let him pass out on the couch and keep a bucket right next to him; because if drinking had taught him anything, the amount Yugyeom had, he was bound to throw up.

You, poetically so, had also passed out on the couch. It was hard to believe that in the afternoon you were in a relationship, getting fucked out of your mind and by night you were single, bawling in your living room.

Still, he had to come back at some point, it was his house after all. How was he going to go to work without his clothes? BamBam for sure wasn’t going to let him stretch out his T-shirts.

Hanging onto that hope, you prepared breakfast in the morning, which unfortunately sat out cold until noon, while you face timed your best friend and let out all your pent up emotions.

She advised you to not hang onto the hope of him wanting to be with you for a few days extra. It wasn’t fair to him, because everything said and done, you were leaving. If there was a way around it, you would have done everything within your control to get that promotion without the transfer. Unfortunately the path you were going to take had been set in stone by your company. There was no space for any alterations left.

You didn’t want this to happen but really, what else were you expecting. This was never going to have a happy ending from the start.

Last week you’d wanted him to act like a douchebag so you could be bitter and cop out of being hurt over having to break up with the best guy you’d ever known.

You finally understood why ‘be careful what you wish for’ was such a self-fulfilling prophecy.

After your long distance chat, begrudgingly you got dressed for the office; even though you didn’t have to really go officially—you were off until you started at London next Friday—there was some paperwork that needed your signature. You wanted to get it over with so as to spend the next few days peacefully crying in bed.

Half-heartedly walking to the train station, you wondered if you’d even crossed Yugyeom’s mind since yesterday.

Maybe it was a bit selfish, but you wanted to know if he was thinking about you; or was it just you that was miserable.

He was.

Of course he was.

While he chugged a bottle of water, because his mouth felt like sandpaper, all he could worry about was how you were going to pack all your belongings in such a short amount of time, without forgetting the most important stuff; and how he was going to not lose his sanity over it.

Ominously so, life had come such a full circle for him; because had your colleague not been a student at the academy, he would have never met you.

The work-life that brought you to him, ultimately took you away too.

Funny how the universe works, right?

He’d drank so much alcohol the previous night in hopes of forgetting you that even an hour without your face swimming in his head would have been worth it. Yet, all night all he lamented about was how unfair it was that he was going to have to let you go.

His friend circle–that over time had also become your friend circle–had been made aware of the whole ordeal, so they knew what to expect. They were just surprised by the magnanimity of it.

Yugyeom had never been heartbroken—at least to this extent. In the 10+ years of knowing him, he’d never expressed so many emotions in such little time to any of his friends. It was like witnessing a compressed pack of cocaine burst under high pressure; messy and not a good look for anyone.

When he woke up he already had a text from Jaebeom very sternly asking him to not come in to work until he got his shit together, several texts from Mark asking how he was feeling and to start hydrating his body immediately, and a whole essay from Jackson on how he should drop his tough guy act and be with you till it was time to go.

He hated being called out like that.

Yugyeom: Hyung you’re supposed to be my friend and tell me I should forget her immediately. His text elicited an immediate response.

Jackson: Listen you brat. I’m your friend that’s why I’m asking you to spend the last few days she is here with her. Because I know you and you’re going to regret this later.

Yugyeom: Tell me, how does it matter if she’s out of my life today or after five days?

Jackson: You won’t even try to stay in touch?

Yugyeom: No.

Jackson: Is that a mutual decision?

Yugyeom stopped replying after that, because now that he was sober, he was back to not being able to aptly express his feelings and he actually didn’t know the answer to that question.

He’d thought about this so much yesterday, while in bed next to you. There was no expiration date on your time in London, there wasn’t even any guarantee that after London you’d come back—you could get transferred to anywhere in the world. That particular uncertainty had torn his heart into smithereens and had led him to end the relationship so abruptly.

It had seemed logical yesterday.

Today? not so much.

You’d zoned out staring at a travel bag while window shopping. After your work was done you thought of giving retail therapy a shot, an endeavour that was proving to be extremely unsuccessful, for the lack of focus you were carrying with you.

A loud, screeching, honking bus on the road snapped you back to reality, but not really. You were still dazed and confused and within seconds wanted to go back home, wondering why you thought this was a good idea in the first place.

You did buy three pastries and a venti on your way though, to devour your feelings once home. To discover that you’d forgotten how you lived life before Yugyeom and not understand how to combat it, was definitely taking a toll on you. The concept of being without him seemed so outlandish, it felt like a distant dream you might have had in your childhood. For now, until you found a way out of this maze, unhealthy coping mechanisms would have to do.

Truth be told, you were itching to call him. When it came to him, your ego was barely existent.

You were still plenty mad and wanted him to realise how stupid he was for not taking you up on the offer last night, of course, but you also wanted hear his voice equally badly, at the cost of him being unwilling to entertain you.

You had been postponing your urge every hour, since morning, because this time around you were reluctant to lose this battle; even though you’d already lost the war.

At 9am it was ‘Wait for another hour, maybe he’ll turn up.’ At 10am it became ‘Maybe I’ll stop by the studio’– but that was too much effort (and you were in no mood to face Jaebeom). When you were leaving for work, you baited yourself by saying you’ll call him after you were done at the office and currently you were convincing yourself to wait till you reached back home, so that at least when he ignored your calls, you could cry into a cup of tiramisu and feel better about it.

That thought was more comforting than it needed to be.

This awkwardness of not being able to wiggle your way into his life this time, was eating you inside, honestly. It’s not that you’d never had disagreements and fights before, where he’d left for Bam’s because he was too frustrated to even talk to you—in spite of him indulging his anger to a bare minimum, there had been plenty of those. But this was the only one time where saying sorry and promising to buy him chocoshakes for a week wasn’t going to cut it.

Along your route home, you bought more food—a full loaf of strawberry bread from the train station, some chips and a sandwich at the convenience store, a slice from the pizzeria nearby and finally your favourite fried chicken. Clearly, you had a lot of feelings to chew through and some days of solitude to chew them.

You hadn’t anticipated the struggle to get your apartment door to open, with all those packets hanging on your arms, trying not to spill any of the contents. What you also didn't anticipate was Yugyeom opening the door from inside, asking you to hand over some of the things you were holding.

You felt your system shut down like windows 98 being attacked by a trojan.

Was this real? Was this a delusion and you'd really just dropped everything on the floor?

“Yu….gyeom?” You called out, afraid of not actually hearing an answer.

“Why are you still standing outside, noona?”

“Oh-uhm-I….” you fumbled, before closing the door. “This.. is-uh?? Hmm-what-what are you… doing here?”

“Honestly? I don’t know.” He replied curtly.

You furrowed your brows accompanying it with frown lines on your forehead, indicative of the confusion you were unable to convey verbally.

However, you chose not to question him further, not wanting to go wherever that interrogation would have taken you. You were more than content to see him move around at close proximity, even if it was in silence.

There were plenty of places he could have gone, really, he didn’t have to be there if he didn’t want to; but he did want to. Oh god he’d wanted to see you so badly. More so than the hangover, it was a bizarre feeling in his chest, from the way he’d behaved with you last night, that had caused him discomfort all morning. That and Jackson’s messages.

Was he really not even going to try to keep in touch? But then….. who likes to stay in touch with an ex?

“Want some cake?” you asked, in an effort to dissipate the elephant in the room. “Or some other food? Pizza? You look like shit, you should probably eat something greasy.”

“You went and bought the whole shop didn’t you?” he raised his eyebrow.

“I… did not. I was….. craving a lot of things.”

“You know, the only times you’ve bought so much food is when you’re sad about us fighting over something.”

“Well—I am sad,” you paused, “and we are fighting ... and this one seems to be the last one.”

“For now” he added and then immediately retracted his statement

“I’m...I don’t know why I said that. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Yugyeom... baby,”

When did you even get close enough to do that, he wondered, as you cupped his face.

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, you know?”

He put his arms around your waist and pulled you into a tender hug, because if he looked into your eyes any deeper he would have either kissed you or teared up; and neither was a good option to choose from.

“Noona will you promise me something?” he then asked, his words heavy and morose.

“Hmm?”

“Please try your best to forget me.”

You weren’t expecting that sentence to knock the wind out of your lungs, because you weren’t expecting to hear that sentence at all.

You broke away from him, tears accumulating against your will.

“Did you come here to hurt me, Yugyeom?”

It felt like a sword was now ominously hung above your head, when you looked at him; and it could fall at any moment and sever your head.

“Don’t take this the wrong way. I just…. I don’t know. Don’t hold onto some irrational hope or something. That’s all I meant.”

“Irrational hope? Really, of what? Getting back together someday? You wanna get rid of me and move on so fast that you want me to forget you? Is that it?”

“Don’t twist my words. That’s not what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant.”

“You think I don’t understand that this is the end for us?”

“Just ... leave it, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Yeah you shouldn’t have.”

“But I don’t want to be the reason you hold yourself back in London. That’s all.” He yielded, not wanting to make matters any worse.

“You know what…. I was wrong to think it would be a good idea to pretend like nothing’s changed until I get on the plane. You win.”

The anger in your tone and your deadpan face made it very clear that you were not interested in holding a conversation about this, any further. “I’m gonna go start collecting my stuff. I should be out of your apartment and your life, by tomorrow evening.”

Before Yugyeom could react, you slammed the bedroom door shut and locked yourself inside.

One second later he was banging on the door frantically.

“Noona! Come on, open the door please.

Please, baby!”

He must have stood there trying to rotate the knob, begging you to let him inside, for at least fifteen minutes before giving up and sliding onto the floor.

This was turning out to be worse than his worst nightmare.

If he knew you at all, he knew you would want to come out to smoke soon. So he sat by the door, getting annoyed at himself for saying that and at you for taking it out of context.

Before coming here, he’d asked for Jinyoung’s opinion on whether this was a good idea or not; and Jinyoung had replied asking him to not do anything foolish. He had assumed Jinyoung meant going to his house to meet you was the foolish act. Dejectedly, he typed a text.

Yugyeom: Well…. I should have listened to you. I went to see her and you were right, it was a bad idea.

Jinyoung: when did I say that was a bad idea?

Yugyeom: you said not to do anything stupid

Jinyoung: yeah, I meant don’t go there and mess it up. I didn’t mean don’t go there at all. What did you do?

Yugyeom: oh…. nothing.

Jinyoung: I can call her and ask.

Yugyeom: No! Fuck. please don’t do that. She’s already pissed at me.

Jinyoung: what did you do

Yugyeom: I asked her to move on

Jinyoung: huh?

Yugyeom: I don’t want her to get hung up on me and us and the maybes and what ifs when she's there. Because I know she will.

Jinyoung: and what about you? Are you going to try your best to forget her?

Yugyeom paused and stared at that question for a few minutes. No…. of course not, how could he want to forget you or anything about you. Even if every memory attached to you dug into his organs like shards of glass, he’d gladly take them all to his grave.

Yugyeom: she doesn’t need to know if I do it or not.

Jinyoung: I’m glad God gave you the gift of dance because clearly intelligence and common sense are completely lost on you.

Yugyeom: hyung i'm really not in the mood to be insulted right now.

Jinyoung: Jackson asked you to drop your tough guy act didn’t he? She doesn’t need you to protect her. She’s never needed anyone to protect her from anything. You should stop trying to save her from whatever it is that you think you’re saving her from.

Yugyeom: I’m not trying to do anything. I don’t want her to regret going to London.

Jinyoung: How is asking to forget you a solution to that? Say hypothetically she does forget you. In a years time she doesn’t give a fuck about what you meant to her. She meets someone else and starts dating, maybe even gets engaged. Would that make you happy?

Yugyeom: No. But she’ll be happy.

Jinyoung: that’s your problem. You’re assuming that forgetting you and finding a new life would make her happy.

Yugyeom: Well won’t it? Idk I just don’t want her to be hung up on us and if she gets stuck on it, I don’t think she will be.

Jinyoung: You just said you don’t wanna move on so then why the fuck are you forcing it on her?

Yugyeom: hyung she doesn’t need to know how miserable I am. Without knowing that whenever she sees me she apologises to me. if she gets to know how much I want her to stay I’m scared she’ll turn down the promotion. She’s already thought about not going.

Jinyoung: let her make her own decisions? Right now you’re lying to her. I’m 95% sure she’s pissed because you’re trying to act unfazed by all of this.

Jinyoung: Just this one time, try to not bottle up how you’re feeling.

Jinyoung: tell her you have no interest in moving on. Be honest, man.

Jinyoung: and just saying, asking the ‘love of your life’, who calls you ‘the love of her life’, to forget you after 12 hours of breaking up is a shitty thing to do. She should have kicked you in the balls.

He typed up a stingy reply to that but, before he could send it, the sound of you unbolting the door from inside distracted him. Hurriedly, he stood up, to catch hold of you.

“Yugyeom, leave me alone. You got what you wanted?”, you spoke frostily.

“Are you going to smoke?”

“Are you going to stop me?”

“No.. But I wish you’d hear me out. Let me say my piece and if you’re still pissed, I’ll leave. I promise.”

After opening the window sill and lighting your cigarette, you waited for him to start. Your face was red and hurting from crying so incessantly, but you were determined to not let your emotions get the best of you, in front of him. At least, not right now.

“When I asked you to forget me, I didn’t mean… you know, erase me from your memory or whatever. I meant give yourself a proper chance at happiness, when you’re there.”

You gave him no expressions.

“Like… I’m not dying to move on. This is killing me. I don't want us to come to an end. I even thought of giving long distance another shot… or like you know….maybe just keep in touch. But every time I thought about it, it was too painful. So I couldn’t ask you to do that because I…. didn’t wanna do that.”

Saying that out loud made him realise how selfish he sounded. He continued his monologue when you wordlessly stood still and puffed away.

“I wanted to pretend like this isn’t hurting me, but I’m so miserable, noona. I don’t know how to live without you. I don’t even want to know how to live without you. But, I want you to live your life without me; which is hypocritical, I guess, but that’s why I asked you to forget me.”

“That’s really fucking unfair.” you interrupted. “You’re planning things for me without asking what I want. That’s not how it works. If I want to move on or not, is my decision. If I want to be miserable over you or not, is my decision. If I want to live my best life in London or not, again, is my decision. I have never loved anyone like I’ve loved you, Yugyeom; so what you asked of me was just cruel. I know I want to live in a fantasy until I have no option but to accept the outcome. I know it’s not a good way to deal with things. How could you even think that forgetting you would ever be an option?

“I’m sorry” he pursed his lips and looked at the floor.

“When I said we have five more days, I wanted to play pretend. I was just trying to live in this denial bit longer.

“Then… can I live in that denial with you?”

“No, I’m sorry, I gotta pack and hand over the house to the owner by tomorrow.”

“I’m sure the owner will understand if you’re delayed by a day or two or four.”

“I’m tired of running around in circles with you man”, you sighed. “No matter how this turns out, I will never not love you. Maybe in ten years time you’ll be with some other girl and I’ll be with some other dude, even then I will probably, in some capacity, still love you. And I get it if you don’t want to feel the same way, you don’t have to. But don’t ask me not to.”

“Thinking about you with someone else really fucking hurts.” he admitted, feeling a knot tighten in his throat.

“It hurts me too but you’re the one so fucking adamant about moving on like it’s gonna happen in 2 days.”

“Are you still angry?”

“Yeah, of course... but I can let it slide if you promise to forget about me.”

“Haha very funny.”

You chuckled and he wasted no time in giving you a kiss on the forehead.

“The only thing I can promise you is that I’ll love you till I die.”

“No one is dying, baby.”

“Without you, I just might.”

“Jaebeom won’t let that happen, you’re the second reason his studio has clients.”

“What’s the first?”

“Jaebeom, obviously.”

Yugyeom rolled his eyes at you. “He’s going to have to be the only reason, till next week because I’m stuck to you till you get on that plane.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I’m not letting you leave that room for the next 100 hours, starting now.”

He didn’t give you much time to process his words, as he picked you up to take you into the bedroom. You tried to fake-protest to the best of your capabilities, but truth be told there was no better feeling than hiding your face in the crook of his neck; while he effortlessly carried you in.

Making his intentions for the night perfectly clear, he took off his shirt.

“Wait-wait-wait!” you yelped, pinned under his lithe form. “All the food is on the table, I'll be damned if that Tiramisu goes to waste. I’ll be back in five.”

“Make it three.”

“Okay baby.”

Then you kissed him on the nose and ran out.

Since your last reconciliation, you'd spent most of your time in bed, mostly without clothes, wrapped in Yugyeom’s arms; savouring every kiss, every touch, trying to save these ending moments in your memory, so you could replay them over and over again at the end of this week when all this would inevitably be over. Your departure was three days away and the fact that you were still unpacked was beginning to weigh down on you heavily. You were at a point where you couldn’t really avoid it any more; even though it was antithetical to the denial you’d built your cozy house in.

As much anxiety you had regarding leaving and not wanting to deal with that, there was an equal amount of anxiety related to not being prepared ahead of time. It was a lose-lose situation either way, with consequences that weren’t susceptible to change. So, you decided to rip the bandaid completely, to avoid running around like a headless chicken at the last minute.

You didn’t have to deal with the furniture, at least, because even though some of it was bought together, Yugyeom owned the apartment. You just had to sort through your clothes and products.

He wasn't the most excited at the thought of seeing you empty out the house.

“Do you know your living situation in London?” he asked, trying to hold up a conversation.

“Yeah…they’re giving me a furnished apartment as part of the deal.”

“Wait no rent?”

“Uh-huh”

“Woah that’s amazing.” The lack of excitement completely contradicted his statement. “And who’s gonna help you set up and stuff? Won’t you need help?”

“Uhm... mum’s already gonna be there when I land. Not at the apartment, obviously, but…. in London.”

“Aah. Ok ok. It’ll be good, you haven’t seen your parents in a long time”

“Hmm I guess.”

“And your visas and shit?”

“Yeah my passport’s with the company, they’ll sort it all out and hand it to me on the day of the flight.”A

Yugyeom felt like he’d accidentally stepped on an emotional land mine.

He was already gutted about seeing his closet empty, and now hearing your monotone voice just upset him even further. But he didn’t want to show how sad this was making him either, because then you would probably cry.

It was really frustrating.

He quickly made up an excuse to leave for a bit. “Is it okay if I go to the studio, Jaebeom hyung needs me to sort through some assessments. But if you need me to stay, I’ll tell him something.”

”No, it’s okay. I have to face time Ishi anyway. I haven't spoken to her in a hot minute. And Jae has been more than patient this past week. I’ll try to be done soon too. It’ll probably take me 4-5 hours.”

Oh.

“I’ll definitely be back by then.”

“Or… maybe I can meet you at the station and we can go to Naksan?”

He gave you an affirmative forced grin, kissed you on the forehead and headed to the studio to redirect all the aggression he was so suddenly full of.

Just knowing that you’d be leaving a giant gaping hole in his life, was driving him nuts. He wasn’t sure if he could keep up his end of the bargain any longer. You at least would get to start over a new life, in a new place with new faces. But he was going to have to pick up pieces of his life that he knew you were about to leave behind shattered; and never look back at

Your fragrance lingered in every corner of his apartment. His bathroom smelt like your shampoo, his closet smelt like your body spray and cigarettes, his bed.… how was he ever going to exorcise your memories out of his bed? His king size bed that had not seen a dip on the right side up until you had waltzed into his life. Everything was going to remind him of you. His favourite restaurants, clubs, hideaways—it was overwhelming him.

“Aah fuck” he mumbled to himself, absent-mindedly walking into the studio - much to Jaebeom’s surprise.

“I thought you weren’t coming in?”

“She’s packing. I’ll break something if I have to sit through it.”

“Don’t break anything here.”

“Maybe my bones.”

“The third room is empty.”

He was barely going to be able to concentrate on whatever choreography he was going to try, but he acknowledged Jaebeom and locked himself inside.

Jaebeom also felt rather incompetent to handle the situation, since he’d never seen this volatile and mostly upset side of Yugyeom. So he just let the kid do whatever he wanted to. No one knows what to do until you actually start doing it, right? Jinyoung would probably disapprove of this philosophy, but he wasn’t there to voice his objections, so too bad!

When dancing, Yugyeom barely ever understood the concept of time, so between choosing a song, researching some new styles, to mentally animating the possible formations, 4 hours flew by. He yelped and hurriedly ran to his phone, hoping he wasn’t already late.

You sighed heavily at the other end of the call “no... I’m still working through the pile. It’s probably going to take me two hours more.”

“It’ll be too dark to go to Naksan then.”

“Yeah…. I guess. Just come home?”

“It’ll take me some more time at the studio though.”

“That’s okay, take your time. It’s a mess here anyway.”

“Hmm… I’ll see you later then, noona.”

And he went back to focusing on perfecting the new moves, even harder than before, because otherwise your voice would keep ringing in his ears. He could hear how disheartened you already sounded and he wanted to be there for you, but he had to take care of his own feelings first, before he could take care of yours.

He didn’t know he could feel such a foul mood, but that’s what his days had recently been made of. All he’d done was get blackout drunk, fight and then fuck; this wasn’t a routine he recognised at all.

It was almost nine in the night when he entered the house, fully expecting to see you still having a rough time with a mountain of clothes next to you. Surprisingly, he found you passed out next to an empty cup of coffee.

He peeked inside the bedroom and his eyes immediately went to the two giant suitcases stacked in the corner and a cardboard box balanced on top of them.

His closet now housed his bare minimum collection of T-shirts and sweatpants and the bathroom was entirely stripped of its former glory. It was depressing. He took a quick shower and considered slumping onto the bed, knowing full well he should wake you up and make you eat something.

Who was going to feed you actual healthy food in London, with him not around? Because if you had it your way, you’d call a bag of chips dinner and call it a day.

He tried with everything he had, to not care about it and went back into the bedroom, fully determined to go to sleep. Perhaps it was his frustration towards the situation that was garnering such a petty reaction. But then he thought about it for five minutes more and felt like an absolute asshole. Why was he taking this out on you? It’s not like you deliberately caused it. It’s not even like he wanted you to stay for him.

He shook his head almost aggressively, as if trying to physically shake off the bad thoughts and went back out, to do what he actually should have done as soon as he came home.

You’d fallen asleep in the most haphazard position; your head resting on your arms on the kitchen island top, and your body stretched out on the chair. It didn’t look comfortable whatsoever.

He nudged you gently, “noona?”

You barely even stirred.

“Wake up, baby”. The butterflies he gave you, at such close proximity, made you open your eyes.

“What time is it?” you groaned, lifting your head the slightest bit.

“It’s almost 10.”

You did a little cat stretch. “Did you just get back?”

“No... it’s been a bit, I took a shower and everything”.

“Oh… okay. I was planning on taking a bath too” you trailed off, yawning through the rest of the sentence.

“I’ll make something for us till then.”he replied, thinking about what they could eat, but his chain of thought was disturbed by a phone call.

“Oh hyung, yo.” you heard him say. His energy seemed so low.

“Wait right now? I don’t know hyung.”

Inquisitively you tilted your head and he handed you the phone. The quota of patience he had for the day was very low.

You could see Jackson’s name on the screen and you greeted him accordingly.

“You wanna chill here?” You repeated, simultaneously gesturing to Yugyeom about his thoughts on the matter at hand.

He shrugged indecisively and you came to the realisation that you hadn’t actually thought of when you’d say your final goodbyes to Jackson, or in fact anyone else except for Yugyeom; so now seemed like as good a time as any.

“Yeah cool, how long will you take?”

With his patience running on thin ice, the man standing in front of you frowned, but you pretended to not notice it. Instead, you stretched and headed for the shower, avoiding his gaze. Yugyeom’s energy was all over the place and you were lowkey glad you wouldn’t have to deal with it by yourself.

You thought about planning your day tomorrow and meeting at least some of the people you cared about. What you hadn’t expected was Jackson bringing most of those people to you.

Half an hour after the phone call, your living room was at full capacity. It wasn’t even that many people honestly, just your usual hang-out group - a mixture of your and Yugyeom’s combined friend list, but your living room looked full.

Yugyeom was even more displeased than before, but managed to hide it by holding onto a bottle of beer, like it was crucial to his existence.

“He didn’t say he was coming with…. everyone.” You sheepishly expressed.

“It’s fine. At least you get to meet most of your friends.”

“Yeah I guess, i was just thinking about it.”

You get distracted by a hand on your shoulder, “thinking about what?” Bambam asked

“Meeting some people before leaving.” You repeated.

“Ooh depressing.”

“That’s one way to look at it.” You gave him a deadpan stare, unimpressed by his poor timing.

Yugyeom took the opportunity to wander off to his other friends, most of whom were gathered around the table of food, in front of the TV.

Some random nonsense movie was playing that Mark and his girlfriend were really invested in. He considered sitting next to them but he was not sure when they’d start making out, so he parked himself next to Jaebeom instead. His head was heavier in that moment than it had been in the morning, when he’d left. He couldn’t leave right now though, Jackson would beat his ass.

So he settled for eating silently and drinking slowly, in his little corner.

Meanwhile, you were trying to keep up a brave face. Jackson had already repeated himself at least thrice, saying how much he was going to miss you and it was getting more and more difficult to hold your tears.

Taking a large gulp of the wine you had in your hand, you told him you were going to miss him a lot too and gave him a partial hug.

There was no scope of hiding from the reality of the situation anymore.

Two days later no one in this room was going to physically be a part of your life. Just two days. All you wanted to do was find Yugyeom and bury your head in his chest, like the ostrich that you were.

You took in some really deep breaths and poured yourself more booze, in the hopes of turning it around and becoming chipper.

Inevitability should be accepted or else life begins to feel like a drag…. no?

Alcohol made it a lot easier for you to bury the sadness that came with your unofficial ‘bon voyage’ celebration. A part of you was also suddenly scared to approach Yugyeom. You studied his face carefully, discreetly, while seated on the couch. Get togethers usually made him hyper, yet here he was looking into his phone like he was studying for a phd degree.

Even though there was an overwhelming urge to go and talk to him, you decided against it. If he wasn’t feeling some type of way, he would not have isolated himself like that and you knew you were partially to blame for it

You indulged in more cocktails, talked to your friends and somewhere in the middle of all this chatter, Jackson, for the nth time commenced a relay of toasts addressed to you. Really on brand of him to talk about his feelings like that but because you were caught so off-guard you started crying.You weren’t prepared for this kind of emotional haranguing.

Yugyeom hated every minute of it. He didn’t want to hear over and over again that you were leaving, or see you cry. He should have declined Jackson’s proposition when he had the chance to, but now he had to deal with long speeches almost all of which included him too. He felt his lungs constrict like he was about to drown. Jaebeom gave him a comforting pat on the back and passed him a new bottle of soju.

From time to time he looked at you but avoided eye contact. He knew he should have been next to you, hugging and comforting you, he just couldn’t bring himself upto the task. It was that same resentment he had felt earlier today that made him respond in this fashion. All he wanted was this night to end and for everyone to leave. But then again, maybe this was better because he didn’t have to be alone with you.

You cried for a good hour while everyone told you they were going to miss you. There were long hugs and accelerating levels of inebriation involved. You promised to text everyone back because at that moment you had no proper words to say and you wanted to tell them all so much.

By the time you crossed your threshold of tipsy to near blackout drunk, it was almost daybreak. The sun was just beginning to peek at you from behind the mountains.

Yugyeom was in a worse shape than you, so Jackson and Jinyoung decided to clean up a bit, as your parting gift; trying to rope in Bambam in.

“No way. I know what’s coming after she leaves. I deserve a break before donning my emotional clean up crew role.”

“Don’t lie, you’re both just going to drink.”

“Yes and drown him in his sorrows. This is how you clean out emotions. He’s gonna drink and cry.”

“That’s the worst way to deal with anything.” Jackson rolled his eyes

“Hyung…. you work out and write music, he drinks and dances. It’s not really all that different.”

“It’s not the same either though. If I feel something I don’t carry it with me. All he does is let it eat him until he forgets it or explodes.”

Can you debate about this later and help me carry him to the bedroom?” Jaebeom interrupted.

Jackson handed the empty bottles to Jinyoung and got to the task of shifting Yugyeom’s large body from the couch.

“Just him?” Bambam asked

“I already tucked her in,” Jaebeom replied. “We should get out of here soon.”

“Yeah, I still have to go to work. Can’t believe Youngjae and Mark left me alone.” Jinyoung complained, trying to make as little noise as possible while trashing the garbage.

With a lot of difficulty, Jackson was able to plonk Yugyeom on the bed. Jaebeom studied you both before heaving a sigh. The peaceful look on your faces was not an accurate testament to your respective behaviours prior to passing out. But there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He kept a trash bag and a bottle of water each near your nightstands before leaving.

At least he could hope that when you wake up, you’d feel better.

... You didn’t.

The splitting headache you were experiencing was really on another level when combined with your sandpaper mouth. Thankfully things were conveniently placed around you because if you had to walk to the kitchen to drink water right now you'd rather die of thirst than get up. Your attention turned to the man next to you, his porcelain skin tempting you to kiss him or at least stroke his face, but you resisted.

You finished the whole bottle and gently lowered yourself back into the bed, lying awake with throbbing pains radiating from various places.

Yugyeom made a cute sound in his sleep, making your heart jump. It was nearly impossible to not want to scoot closer to him. He hadn’t given you a hug in all of twenty four hours and you were already about to lose your mind.

How you were going to survive without him was really beyond your comprehension.

You just lightly touched your fingers to his palm and closed your eyes, hoping you’d fall back to sleep. The next thing you knew he had one arm around you and was pulling you into his chest; aligning his body with yours. His soft breaths landing on the back of your neck, making you shiver.

“Feeling okay?” He asked in his hoarse, morning voice.

“Hmm…”

You could feel his lips moving against your skin as he spoke, making you melt in his embrace. Your heartbeat accelerated and he held onto you even tighter.

Melancholy hung in the air, much like Christmas decorations in December; he could feel it. Your legs intertwined and he heard a faint sob.

There was nothing he could say that would change the atmosphere. It was time to burst the bubble, so he let you cry, and he cried too.

Head buried in your back, he whispered, “noona…. please will you leave a hoodie of yours with me?”

You nodded and kissed his hand.

“I love you.” He said and the both of you went back to sleep.

It was almost evening when he finally woke up. You weren’t in bed anymore, his head was hammering to a tune of it’s own, in spite of having medicated in the morning, and his body was craving water. Staggering, he made his way to the kitchen and found you in a semi-messy situation with cooking paraphernalia all over the counter.

“Oh? What is happening here”. It sounded like he was concerned but he was really only a bit confused.

“making some sandwiches.”

“Suddenly? Why? We could have just ordered.”

“Yeaaah I don’t know, just felt like it.”

He smiled, because you looked so cute in that apron. His mood was foul but looking at you made it better. He chugged some water while you emptied the pan and he was overcome with the urge to hug you.

You were caught off-guard when he put his arms around you, but you reciprocated his gesture. It was difficult for you to look him in the eyes because you weren’t sure if, for the hundredth time, you'd end up crying. He cupped your face and nudged you to see him, the sincerity in his face…. all the love he wanted to shower you with right then.

He kissed you slowly, taking his time to taste the light traces of your strawberry lip balm. You didn'’t know what spells he used to get you turned on so fast. Threading your fingers with his hair, you deepen the kiss. The urgency that took over him was maddening. He wanted you right now, which he made abundantly clear when he slipped his left hand under your T-shirt and began caressing your boobs; his other hand gripping your hair and pulling it sharply.

There was air caught up in your lungs as he kissed your neck, like you’d temporarily forgotten how to breathe. Low moans began to escape your lips and you squeezed your thighs together. You were so wet, just with his mildly aggressive kisses.

He knew what he was doing to you when he felt your lower body clench and both his hands slid back down to grab your butt.

The kiss got sloppier as your focus dwindled to his boner, your fingers already caressing it over his sweatpants. He bit your lip in response, pushed you against the kitchen island and aimed to remove your clothes. You were still in your flannel and shorts from the night before, so he fumbled a bit on the buttons. His accuracy was failing him because you weren't stroking him over the sweatpants anymore; he could feel your hand sliding over his skin, purposefully slow and tender. His eyes were barely open, your lips were still locked and he was trying to get you naked without actually seeing what he was doing. He grunted helplessly when you touched the tip of his cock. Wet sounds of you stroking his length, mixed in with his shallow breaths and moans, filled the kitchen.

He nibbled on your neck, as your movements accelerated. With your non-dominant hand you tried your best to remove his sweatpants, but he stopped you.

“Turn around.” He whispered, pulling your hand away. The way he seduced you with his demanding voice and bedroom eyes, you gave in without a fight. You bucked your hips and grabbed the closest edge of the marble top. He bit your neck, gently sucking at the skin caught between his lips, until it looked bruised and then he moved on further down, while dry humping your ass, one hand firmly placed on your waist. A small gasp escaped your lips when his fingers slipped inside your panties. Automatically, you spread your legs wide, to let him access the delicate parts.

He could smell your shampoo mixed in with your intoxicating scent and it was sending him over the moon as he played with your wet and sensitive clit.

“Good girl” he praised, when you pushed your ass further into his boner, craving to feel it bare.

You hummed, his thin and long fingers dancing to the tune of your arousal. He fingered you slowly and deliberately, and it was excruciating.

It was the last time he was going to get to feel you. Tomorrow you'd be gone. It made him angry and sad. It made him desperate.

You could feel his aggression in the way his lips collided onto yours with force, the way his nails dug into your skin, the way his body was stiff and wrapped around you in a solid cage.

His hold on you tightened and he spun you around again, to face him. He wanted to make sure you never forgot how he made you feel; so that no other man would ever be enough for you because he set that bar up so high. He wanted to spoil the idea of being pleased again by anyone else, for you. Maybe it was toxic to think that way, but he was already letting go of you.

He had no choice but to let go of you. The train of thought he'd gotten on made his brain short circuit and switch off. He wasn't aroused anymore and everything was blurry and confusing. Before he could stop himself, he took a step back.

“Don't leave me, noona.” He said in a small voice, looking at the floor.

The words crash on you like a violent wave.

You wished he'd stayed looking at the tiles, because when he looked up, you felt the guilt of having accidentally run over a puppy. There was sadness and shame and anger and you didn't know which emotion to address first.

“Yugs….”

So many words swirled in your brain but your lips were sewn shut.

“So, I guess that's a no.”

“What are you trying to do, Yugyeom?”

“Oh well, It was worth a try.” He chuckled, rather bitterly.

What else was he expecting would happen.

Life is not a movie scene; the girl doesn't quit on her career for the boy, in real life. But was it valid for him to feel the sting that persistently worsened as you two stood opposite each other uncomfortably? He knew this was going to happen. He chose it with you. Hell, he chose it for you even. While he was trying to rationalise his own resentments, you straightened yourself up and started putting the buttons of your shirt back in place.

“I don't know what you want to hear from me, Yugs. You know I don't want to leave you. And you don't want to come with me.”

Shit, that stung him even more.

“I have to leave for the airport in 12 hours so do we have to be like this?” You asked defeatedly.

He shook his head and you extended your arms, waiting for him to fall into them.

“I'm really sorry we have to end this way.”

In his experience, there was no safer feeling than being held by you, but right now it was the root cause of all the knives ruthlessly jammed in his chest.

Nonetheless, he hugged you and exhaled pure agony.

“I'm gonna go take a shower. Maybe afterwards, if you feel like it, we can go get some drinks?” You asked cautiously.

“Yeah… I’d like that” he lied, as he let go. Truth be told, he couldn't look past the multiple ‘last times’ anymore. The last time he could hug you, the last time he could fuck you, the last time he could hear your voice… he couldn't do any of it. He didn't want to do any of it. He didn't want this for the last time. He heard you close the door to the bathroom and started fixing his appearance however he could, grabbed his wallet and phone and headed out. If he stayed in that house for a second more he felt he'd choke and die. He was trying to run away from the toxic fumes his own thoughts were emitting, and there was nowhere to hide from them, so he tried to leave them behind.

His brisk walk turned into a sprint and then he ran as fast as he could towards the subway station. And just like that he vanished into the sea of anonymity, nowhere to be found.

Four hours had gone by since you'd come out of your shower to a deserted house and a singular message from Yugyeom. “Sorry noona, I can't do this.”

it felt like a cruel déjà vu.

His phone wasn't reachable. Bambam had no idea, neither did Jaebeom. You were much too confused to react in any appropriate manner.

“He left” You said to Jaebeom, who was equally confused and infuriated.

It seemed like you'd already connected the dots as to Yugyeom’s unavailability but a part of you was holding onto some hope.

“I'm sure he's gonna show up dude.”

“I have to leave in like 3 more hours. He wouldn't have left if he planned to show up.”

“He's definitely not at Bam’s?”

“Jae…. unless I was being lied to, he's not there. And i don't think Bam has any reason to do that.”

“Okay. Keep me posted.”

“Yeah” you sighed.

You were neither angry, nor sad and you had good reason to experience both those emotions at once, but the way your brain had switched itself to autopilot, everything had just become a matter of necessity.

You tried Yugyeom’s number once again, and weren't even surprised anymore when you heard the automated switched off message.

While scanning the room your eyes fell upon your suitcases and your heart dropped 6 feet further than where it was already at.

You had to leave soon.

The silence had already been gnawing at your sanity, now it was overpowering guilt because if you had just said no, none of this would have happened. If you had just said no to the promotion. If you had tried harder for Seoul. If you had chosen to stay when Yugyeom asked you to, then the chain of events would have been different. Maybe, if he'd not run away from this whole situation you could have figured out a solution. But he wasn't here and you were running out of time.

A high pitched buzzer cut through the atmosphere, giving you a jump scare. For a second you thought maybe it was Yugyeom, but why would he need to ring the bell.

You saw Jackson's silhouette in the little alarm system by the door and sighed.

“You look so unhappy to see me.” He huffed, when you greeted him dryly.

“Gee Jackson, sorry I'm upset about Yugyeom literally bailing on me when I have to leave in an hour.”

“Wait what? He's not back?”

“No…..i don't know where he is.”

“And he's still not answering?”

“I tried about 50 times, it's off. Anyway, how come you're here?”

It was comical how distraught you were internally and how inept you were at translating your emotions externally. The way you were talking, no one would think you were in this sad sad situation of leaving your life behind to start a new one.

“You don't remember asking me to drop you off?”

“Was I drunk?”

“Well…. tipsy maybe?”

“I was definitely drunk. I don't remember any of it. But, I'm glad you're here.”

“Are you…. packed?”

“Yeah, I just got the last batch of clothes I need to shove in.”

“Cool. You have anything to eat?”

“I made some sandwiches in the evening. Have at it.”

You were trying your best to be normal. A few minutes later Bambam and Jaebeom arrived as well, both without any worthwhile news of Yugyeom.

“I'm gonna kill him when I see him.” Jaebeom raged.”this is very childish.”

“It's fine man…. i know why he just vanished. It's okay. I'm not mad.”

“Bro are you…. Hearing yourself?”

“Very clearly. He was never good with confrontational emotions. He didn't want to see me leave so he left. It's not rocket science.”

“You went through your stages of grief really fast with this one.”

“I didn't have an option.” you looked at the three of them sitting around you “So…. are all of you taking me to the airport?”

“Yeah, duh.” Bambam countered.

“Okay then wait for me in the car, I need to say bye to the house.”

“And you can't do that in front of us?”

“Would you rather get uncomfortable watching me cry?”

Honestly, you were just prolonging it, the actual act of leaving. You felt so heavy when Jaebeom rolled your suitcases out. In passing you looked at your two favourite hoodies you'd left on the bed and it took everything out of you to not have an emotional breakdown right at that moment.

It was difficult, leaving was difficult especially without Yugyeom. You were in denial of your feelings but you were so angry at him but also so sorry towards him, your emotions kept cancelling each other out. You just wanted to hug him one last time and get the closure you were hoping to get but he took that option away from you. In your three year relationship, this was maybe the most cruel he’d ever been with you. But it was over now. This chapter was done, even with all of its loose ends.

You took your time saying your final byes to three of the most important people you'd met in Seoul. It was quite impressive that you didn't burst out in tears, even when Bam and Jae almost did. There was a part of you that was distracted by a hope that he'd be at the airport to see you off. When he wasn't at the main gates, you hoped he'd be there at check-in. While walking towards your departure gate you kept an eye out, hoping to catch a glimpse of his smile. You just wanted to say goodbye. But he never came. You sat glued to your spot, because what if he did try to find you and you weren't there. You boarded your flight at the very end. You gave an imaginary him all the imaginary chances you could, to materialise and tie a neat ribbon around your life in Seoul.

But your flight took off and the last shred of hope you had snapped and so did you.

Because life isn't a movie. Just like the girl doesn't leave her career, the boy doesn't run through the airport either.

#got7 #yugy #yugyeom fanfic #yugyeom smut #got7creators #got7 fanfic #got7 fanfiction #got7 yugyeom #yugyeom fanfiction

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shiny-procrastinates · 3 years

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(re)Watching Magia Record S1 - part 5

part 4 here

Hello everyone and welcome back to this... thing. Last time, we met Tsuruno, who I forgot to mention is voiced by the TrySail member we hadn't seen yet, Natsukawa Shiina. After meeting Tsuruno, our girls join Yachiyo in investigating the rumor of the Seance Shrine, that they in fact find, and left off with them meeting the people they were looking for. Are those the real deal? Guess we'll have to watch to find out.

Puella Magi Madoka Magica Side Story: Magia Record S1 episode 5

Rather than going back to where we left off right away, we are first treated to a flashback to the person Yachiyo asked to meet.

and of course, that inverted "sayonara" there in the background doesn't mean anything, nope.

Just by this little scene, we can guess that the person Yachiyo's searching for was also interested in the rumors about salvation. Yachiyo, however, doesn't wish to be saved like this person does. So what exactly happened to Yachiyo's friend?

Back to where we left off, Yachiyo and Iroha meet the people they had written the names of. Iroha runs after and hugs Ui, but the situation is quite strange. When Iroha takes a step back, this Ui starts repeating the ad about Kamihama like a broken record (haha, record). It's really unsettling. Iroha realizes this is a fake, looks around, sees the people that had disappeared and when she looks back Ui's fake is gone.

Iroha, that's a pretty concerning color your Soul Gem has right now...

While she's off doing that, Yachiyo confronts the Mifuyu that appeared to her. Hey, this one's actually behaving like a person, at least.

Yachiyo says she can't just believe she's real, so Mifuyu tells her some things that probably only the two of them should know, making Yachiyo have to concede that at least when it comes to memories she's the real deal.

That's kinda mean to say when you're the one who went ahead and disappeared.

Yachiyo questions Mifuyu about why she disappeared and asks her to come back but Mifuyu says she can't leave the shrine because her body has become too used to it. What is this, the underworld?

Mifuyu invites Yachiyo to stay instead, and Yachiyo is... hypnotized by the little pinwheel? I guess, but Iroha snaps her out of it.

Obviously, this Mifuyu was also a fake. Really raises the question on why this one is so life-like when Ui's was a walking ad.

For some reason, Yachiyo can't see the creepiness of the fake. She insists that they have to leave, but the fake Mifuyu refuses to. Seeing that, Yachiyo starts doubting she's the real Mifuyu again.

...really, what is up with that pinwheel? Yachiyo stares into it again and is, uh... cursed? I guess.

Seeing that, Iroha threatens the fake Mifuyu, who decides Iroha's the reason why Yachiyo won't stay so she has to erase her.

Mifuyu jumps around with her chakram hula hoop, boasting about her relation with Yachiyo, before attacking.

Can't really screenshot this but Mifuyu's movements while dodging Iroha's bolts are really nice, she’s like a ballerina.

...also, Iroha, your aim sucks. Though nice job noticing the hoop was also a boomerang.

...well, guess you're the one who has a void to fill in now. (this shot’s so nice)

being meguca is suffering.

Yachiyo defeats the fake Mifuyu with a fair deal of colateral damage to her sanity points. She cleans her Soul Gem with great difficulty, but the amount the Grief Seed she had in hand could clean was not enough. So Iroha comes in and uses her own spare one (which I think is the one she received from Yachiyo in ep1) to finish cleaning it. Yachiyo protests this but Iroha says she can't just abandon her.

When that's done, Tsuruno comes in to join them. Shes says the familiars outside suddenly disappeared, so she got worried and came here.

It seems like since they defeated the fakes, the master of this barrier decided to deal with them itself.

The girls try to put in some damage, but not even op Yachiyo's attacks manage to make a lasting effect. When Tsuruno loses her flames, Yachiyo creates a bullet hell and tells them to find a way out while she distracts the thing, but apparently Iroha's still on the "need to get stronger" mentality and refuses to back out, only to get wrecked.

Uhhhh... That's not very good. Are we losing our protagonist only five episodes in?

...this face is kinda heart-breaking. It's actually honestly impressive that she didn't witch out right then and there considering how unsettling fake Ui was and how her Soul Gem was already impure by then.

Iroha passes out, so Yachiyo carries her and Tsuruno and her make a run for it.

While they do that, Iroha's having some weird near-death experience (...I never died so I can't affirm it's weird). She sinks further and further, getting caught up in bandages and then, when she comes face to face with her own reflection, bandages cover her eyes and that reflection gains a creepy white mask(?).

Suddenly, the bandage materializes irl and we get a Elseve commercial-- I mean, no, Iroha witches-out...? Kinda...? Her hair has spawned a witch.

The animation on Iroha's hair here is really nice.

Hey, nice haircut!

The witch(?) of the Seance Shrine doesn't seem very happy to have a companion though, so it tackles Iroha's witch, which in turn binds it with its bandages and starts pecking.

Who'd win, an elephant lizard or a weird birb doll?

Just... absolutely brutal.

Iroha's witch tears apart the master of this barrier, and the Seance Shrine fades, delivering everyone back to Mizuna Shrine, including the people who had disappeared... and Iroha's witch. Wait, weren't witches supposed to only exist inside Labyrinths...?

Not satisfied with snacking on the rumor's monster, Iroha's witch decides Tsuruno is next on the menu but, before the restaurant girl can become food, a certain veteran comes in with a bang. Literally.

Iroha's witch gets a second hole in her body and spews Iroha out before fading. Then-

wait...

SPEWS IROHA OUT?

That's not how witches work!

Mami thinks that Iroha is a witch pretending to be a human, so she's determined to eliminate her (to be fair, she only saw Iroha with the witch, so...). Yachiyo, however, tells her to step down, and you could almost see the sparks flying between them.

Yachiyo and Tsuruno manage to make Mami give up on shooting Iroha, so Mami changes the subject to what she had heard from Kyuubei.

Yachiyo, I don't think this is the best time to be picking a fight...

Mami confirms that she's aware of what's going on and Yachiyo says it's none of their problem, and she should keep her territory's problems on her own territory. Geez, Yachiyo, calm down. It's not like she tried to shoot one of your friends or- oh.

Yachiyo: “You must be at least this tall to enter Kamihama.“

Mami did say she didn't want to pick a fight with Kamihama's magical girls, so she decides to retreat quietly for the day, but not before leaving some veteran advice for Tsuruno:

Which girl, Mami? Yachiyo or Iroha?

Leaving this cryptic piece of advice, Mami takes off, as well as the chibi Kyuubei, that she conveniently didn't see.

Inside Iroha's mind, she's freed from being a temporary mummy and instead starts having a weird dream.

In the near future, you'll get targeted ads in your dreams.

"I didn't sign up for this."

Iroha can't catch a break.

When she wakes up, Iroha's in an unknown room. She notices that her Soul Gem is completely clean now. Very suspicious.

I may or may not have an absurd amount of screenshots of this place to use as reference for drawing.

Iroha does some exploring and finds Yachiyo, because this is Yachiyo's place. Yachiyo says she carried her there since she was unconscious, and asks if she wants to call her parents, to which Iroha just shakes her head quietly. Of course, Iroha's parents aren't around so there's no real point in her calling them. Convenient in this situation, but kinda sad all around. Yachiyo doesn't pry.

Iroha realizes she must've been there a while and makes to leave immediately but Yachiyo points out it's past the hour public transport works (even in the near future, huh). While Iroha's visibly troubled, Yachiyo suggests she just stay over for the night.

...now Yachiyo I get telling a middle schooler to not walk about this late at night, but isn't that the time most magical girls act? lol

Dunno what this is but it looks good.

While Yachiyo prepares dinner, Iroha asks if there's anything she can help with, but Yachiyo just tells her to go rest some more, which she does.

"I have school tomorrow!" "...oh, it's Saturday." This is so relatable. Even when you're not at school anymore.

I shouldn't be that long since Iroha's parents left, but as expected it must be really lonely being all alone like this, with no friends and only an empty room reminding her of what she lost. Poor Iroha (man, how many more times will I have to write this...).

Sometime later, Yachiyo comes to call Iroha for dinner, but...

Yachiyo repeats her phrase from the begging of this episode, but with more parts now.

Yachiyo had told Iroha just the episode before that Iroha was held down by her past but, as it turns out, Yachiyo is even more so. These two's suffering is actually very alike: Both lost someone that meant the world to them, and now are searching for their lost parts while bearing their loneliness.

It's a short scene, but it's quietly one of the best ones until now in my opinion. It's beautiful, and does a great job in starting to touch upon Yachiyo's true nature. Even the kinda on-the-nose shot of her being "trapped" by the window is good. 10/10 on this one.

Oh, also, if I had to give one difference between Yachiyo and Iroha in this context, it'd be that while Iroha is adamant that her sister existed and that she'll find her somehow, Yachiyo's way of talking about Mifuyu don't sound like she thinks they'll meet again sometime, despite her searching for her. From my point of view, there are two reasons for this: one is that Iroha might just break if she ever stops believing. Could you imagine? Realizing the sister you've traded your soul for, your only friend and most important thing, never actually existed. That's a one-way ticket to despair if I ever saw one. The other one is that Yachiyo, like fake Mifuyu touched briefly on, has been a magical girl for years now. Whether she knows the truth or not, it's easy to imagine that the longer you live as one the more aware you are of how easy it's to die in this path. If Yachiyo has seen a lot of other magical girls fall around her in all those years, it's quite possible a part of her believes Mifuyu is missing because she's dead. Which is... very tragic.

Well, anyways...

"There's no place for you here."

It's particularly ironic to have this title card show up just after a scene where Iroha's sleeping on Mifuyu's room.

Also, DON'T LEAVE YET.

I did it again, I forgot there were after-credit scenes, again!

Somewhere else, Momoko's team was getting their butt handed to them by a witch and Kaede, the only one left standing, despairs and does the same thing Iroha did.

Kaede, however, doesn't get the benefit of being knocked out like Iroha, so she very understandably freaks out.

"Could I be a witch?" I mean, technically...

One thing Kaede has got right, though: This is definitely not normal.

When magical girls witch out, their Soul Gems are supposed to turn into Grief Seeds, but here not only Iroha and Kaede's Soul Gems were perfectly fine, they were even purified for them. I vaguely remember Sayaka summoning Octavia in Rebellion, but I don't think this is it either. Well, it's a good thing for the girls so not that I'm complaining but what the heck is going on here?

...of course, I already know the answer to this, but making you curious is my job :v

With all of that said (and put all in that this was looong), I hope to see you guys tomorrow as we watch episode 6 and try to put together the pieces of the many puzzles Magia Record has given us. See you next time!

#Magia Record #Puella Magi Madoka Magica #magireco #pmmm magia record

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flowerpowell · 4 years

Text

Unexpected (Drake x MC)

PART EIGHT

A/N: The list of questions that Drake found in this chapter is very real and I had a lot of fun writing this scene lol. I hope you’ll like it too! Characters belong to Pixelberry.

Rating: PG-16 (nothing too crazy but maybe some suggestive language)

Word count: 2289

Tagging: @gardeningourmet @delightfullypinkglitter @hopefulmoonobject @akrenich @blackcatkita @desiree---1986 @dcbbw @kingliam2019 @the-soot-sprite @mskaneko @thequeenofcronuts @dr-ethanjramsey @badchoicesposts @burnsoslow @annekebbphotography @alesana45 @addictedtodrakefanfic @walkerduchess @ao719 @texaskitten30 @lodberg @cordonianroyalty @emichelle @siriusxxvideos @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @samihatuli @choices-lurker @i-miss-trr @drxkewalker @nikkis1983 @innerpostmentality @msjr0119 @bascmve01 @mind-reader1 @edgiestwinter @drakesensworld @queenjilian @princessleac1 @saivilo @yukinagato2012 ♥

“Mmm” Riley moaned as she slowly opened her eyes. It took her a moment to adjust to the bright room and to realize she wasn’t in her regular room.

Drake’s mom. Right.

She wanted to turn to see if Drake had already woken up but she couldn’t as she saw his arms wrapped around her waist so tightly she could barely breathe. Or maybe it was Drake’s proximity that made it so hard to breathe. Drake’s face was buried in her neck and covered in her hair and she tried to stay as still as possible.

Normally, she would push him away the second she’d realize how close they were but for some reason she quite enjoyed them being so close, so intimate. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine it was her real life, entangled in bed with the love of her life. The reality was a bit different and she blushed at the thought that Mr Perfect Butt was cuddling her.

Don’t think about his butt, don’t think about his butt.

Riley felt that Drake started to stir and she closed her eyes immediately, pretending to be still asleep as if she never noticed the position they were in. She felt his breath on her neck and she knew he woke up. She pretended to be waking up too and she opened her eyes meeting with Drake’s already looking at her.

“Ewww, what are you doing,” she pushed him away as she jumped out of the bed. “I knew you should’ve just slept on the floor, ugh,” she added as she quickly left the bedroom.

~~~~

“Good morning, my love birds!” Bianca entered the kitchen with Bartie in her arms. Drake smiled sleepily at her and Riley took Bartie from her fake mother-in-love.

“I hope you had a good night.”

“Moooom,” Drake rolled his eyes.

“What? You just got married, you deserve to have some good nights. I can take Bartie somewhere for the night if it’s necessary,” she winked and Drake facepalmed as Riley blushed.

“Thank you, Mrs Walker, but we love Bartie and we want to spend as much time with him as possible,” Riley answered politely.

“That’s understandable. And please, call me Bianca.”

Drake opened his mouth to comment this somehow but someone knocked on the door and he stood up to open it, Riley following suit.

“Yes?” He asked the woman standing in the doorway, smiling at him.

“Drake and Riley Walker?” she asked as both of them nodded. “Someone filed a complaint about the legitimacy of your marriage. I’m bringing you the copy of the document along with the letter to come to the embassy for the interview.”

“Embassy? Interview?” Drake asked as he opened the letter and seeing the name of the person responsible for it,” Madeleine.”

“We need to establish whether your marriage is in fact real, as the claim suggests it is fake, serving only to get full custody and grant Mrs Walker a Cordonian citizenship.”

“Me...? What?!” Riley’s eyes widened and Drake put a hand on her shoulder to calm her.

“Why did Madeleine even sent it? She was at the wedding!”

“Mrs Beaumont simply voiced her concerns about the legitimacy of your marriage, there will be a few question you two will be asked and that’s all. Nothing to be worried about. Unless, the marriage is indeed fake.”

“Concerns about our marriage? Can I voice my concerns about Madeleine’s sanity then?” Drake asked but before the woman could answer Riley cut in.

“This is ridiculous. And what if that stupid interview proved it was a fake marriage?”

“Then it’d be annuled immediately, you would be sent to America and Drake would most likely lose the custody. But as I said,” she smiled at them, “nothing to be worried about. It’s just a formality. See you tomorrow!”

“Tomorrow?!” Riley and Drake asked at the same time but the woman already started walking away. They looked at each other, Riley full of worry and Drake full of anger.

“Mom? Can you actually take Bartie for the night? Riley and I want to have tonight for ourselves.”

~~~~

“Okay, let’s do this.”

“Why did you bring alcohol?” Riley asked curiously as Drake put two glasses and a bottle of whiskey on the floor.

“I really can’t do that sober,” he shook his head and poured the drink into two glasses. Riley took one and they both drank it, the liquid burning their throats.

“Okay, I found a few lists of possible questions on the internet, are you ready?” He asked and Riley nodded. How bad could it be?

“First. Where did you meet?”

“Easy. In your bar,” Riley answered taking a swig. This is going to be easy.

“Right. When did your relationship turn romantic?”

“Umm, never?”

Drake narrowed his eyes.

“Hmm, maybe after I first visited you at home and met Bartie? I could say I saw the way you take care of him and I fell in love and then it quickly became a romantic relationship?”

“I like that,” Drake nodded. “Okay, next. Why did you decide to have a short engagement?”

“Because we really wanted to start our life together and also because we wanted to make a family for Bartie.”

“Good, I’m impressed!” Drake high-fived Riley. “Moving on, there’s a set of questions about our habits. Ready?”

“Bring it on!” Riley said as she took another swig of her drink.

“Who gets up first? At what time? How many alarm clocks do you set in the morning? Who cleans the house? Who makes breakfast? Who takes care of paying the bills? Does your spouse take any regular medications?”

“Whoaa. Okay. You get up first to go for a run, unless Bartie starts crying, then we both wake up at the same time. You never set any alarm clocks. I have to clean the house because you’re messy. We both make breakfast for ourselves and you pay bills since it’s your house. And I haven’t seen you taking any meds. How did I do?”

“You did great,” Drake admitted as he took a few swigs of whiskey. “You set as many alarms as possible but after like ten alarms you turn off your phone because they annoy you. You take some allergy pills, right?”

“Yes! I’m alergic to mess and since your place is so messy I have to take those,” she answered sweetly and he rolled his eyes.

“It’s not that bad.”

“Whatever. I’m doing this for my restaurant. Next question.”

“What is your spouse’s favorite/least favorite food?”

“Everything with meat is favorite. Anything without meat is your least favorite.”

“Very funny. I like simple things so anything extravagant is not my favorite. Now, you’re a great cook so I would say you love everything.”

“My favorite dish is pasta à la Nana. It was invented by me and my grandma when I was about five years old. It reminds me of her,” Riley said, her voice breaking slightly.

“I’ve never seen you making it,” Drake noticed and Riley shrugged.

“I haven’t been able to make ever since she died. We always did it together. The secret is that you need two people to make it and I just... I couldn’t.” She quickly wiped a tear from her eyes and Drake wordlessly pulled her close.

“Let’s... finish with these questions,” she whispered and Drake nodded.

“Who sleeps on each side of the bed?” he asked and she looked at him confused.

“What, these are the questions!”

“Well, when we fell asleep I was on the right side and you on the left side but when I woke up we both somehow were on the right side.”

“I think that’s a sufficent answer. Okay, next, when was your wife’s last menstrual period? Wait, what?” He read it again. “How am I supposed to know that?!”

“Just say two weeks ago and let’s move on,” she chuckled. Normally she would be embarrassed to talk about such topics with someone who was neither her sister nor her close friend but all that alcohol was making her a bit more confident.

“When did you last have intimate relations?”

“This is what they ask about?” Riley raised her eyebrow as Drake tried to hide his red cheeks.

“Apparently they’re very nosy.”

“Let’s just say it was tonight. Bianca can even confirmed she took Bartie out for the night so it’s more believeable.”

“Good thinking, Mrs Walker,” Drake smiled as he clinked glasses with her. “Next is, how many sexual partners did you have?”

“What? This is ridiculous, they can’t ask that!” Riley stood up, ready to end this rehearsal. This was a stupid idea anyway.

“I didn’t make it up, it’s one of the sample questions, look!” Drake showed his phone to Riley but she only rolled her eyes.

“It’s stupid.”

“It is but need to be prepared. So... what is your number?”

“What is yours?” Riley asked crossing her arms. She hated it already.

“Just seven,” he shrugged, “nothing too exciting.”

“Seven?” her eyes widened. “Not that I care. I’m going to sleep, I’m tired.”

“Hey, we haven’t finished yet!”

“Well, I’m finished.”

“Riley,” Drake stook up and took her hand, “I told you my number, it’s only fair if you tell me yours. How many guys did you sleep with?”

She rolled her eyes, “Zero. Happy now?”

“But I thought...” Drake’s eyes widened. “With you looking like this, I just--”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Everyone is so fixated on--”

“I’m not everyone,” Drake cut in and she looked at him. “And I don’t think it’s a big deal.”

“If you had parents like mine, you’d understand. All I had time for was studying so that my parents were proud of me. My older sister is their favorite and I always tried to be more like her. Jeez, why am I even telling you this?”

“If they couldn’t see how great you are then it’s their loss,” Drake said but she didn’t reply. After a few minutes of complete silence, Drake finally asked, “Can we answer the rest of the questions?”

~~~~

The interview was scheduled early next morning and both Riley and Drake were very tired as they were practicing most of the night. It all was worth it though, because they covered all the questions the interviewer asked them. Even the woman who brought them documents seemed to be happy with their responses.

When they left the office, they were so relived and tired that they hugged each other without even realizing what they were doing.

Bianca was waiting with Bartie and started cheering when Drake showed her a thumb up.

“You should celebrate! Now everyone knows your marriage is real and you love each other.”

“Yeah.”

“Show some enthusiasm, son! Kiss your wife!”

“It’s okay, we’re not really fans of PDA,” Riley tried to argue with Bianca but the woman only shook her head.

“It’s not PDA, it’s just a kiss!”

“Fine, Mom!” Drake rolled his eyes and kissed Riley’s cheek quickly.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. I kiss Bartie with more love than you did Riley.”

“Mom!”

“It’s okay,” Riley grabbed Drake’s hand and he looked at her, frowning. She nodded slighly and he sighed but leaned down to kiss her.

At first, it was a very careful kiss, more like a quick peck on the lips but soon he felt Riley deepening the kiss a little and he followed suit, somehow not being able to stop. He put one of his arms on Riley’s back and the other was entangled in her hair. He heard a soft moan from Riley’s lips and it was only then that he realized what they were doing, in front of his mother. Slowly, he pulled away and looked down, avoiding his mother’s eyes.

“Yes, that’s more like it,” they heard Bianca and Drake could swear he heard her smiling.

Drake shook his head as his phone started ringing and he felt very thankful for that distraction.

“Liam? What’s happening?”

“I sent the guards back to Cordonia. They didn’t find anything in Karlington. Everything is clear. They checked every single room, dungeons, even secret passages. The gardens were checked too. And all the houses nearby. Nothing. I’m sorry.”

“It’s... okay. Thank you anyway, for doing this,” Drake sighed. He was losing hope with each day.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t bring you some good news. I decided to leave one guard there, just in case.”

“Thank you, Liam. Really.”

“I’ll call you later and we’ll talk, okay?” Liam asked and after hearing ‘okay’ from the other side, he hung up.

He started sorting out some documents when he heard a knock on the door.

“Yes?”

“King Liam,” Madeleine bowed and Liam stood up, surprised to see her there.

“Madeleine? What are you doing here?”

“Is that a way to greet your ex fiancee?” She smiled as she waved a big envelope before Liam’s eyes.

“What are you doing here, Madeleine?” Liam repeated, his eyes trained on the woman.

“I brought new evidence. About Savannah and Bertrand. My private investigator just sent this and...” she bit her lips as if considering something, “I think you should see it.”

#the royal romance #the royal heir #drake walker #choices #playchoices #drake x mc #drake walker x mc #choices drake #trr #choices trr #my fic #trr fanfic

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naturaldisasterfanfiction · 4 years

Text

14. Part 2

I decided to come and be here for Robyn, to hear her all emotional about the dream, she just seemed so sad and that really upset me on the phone. So, I just flew out straight away, bought the gifts I got and came. I ain’t going to lie, I am nervous. I am used to the small group of family and friends, the close group but this is the extended now and I am getting stared at like I don’t belong, most of them do not like me I think anyways. I am getting stared at me, but I am staring at Robyn, she is staring at me too. I feel like she wants to be close to me, and I do too. I want to talk to her but there is many people watching now, and I hate it “you came here for more pregnancy pussy?” Jahleel asked, he has been asking me the most stupid things ever, but I like him because he came to me, he spoke to me and wasn’t funny with me about it “who told you?” I asked laughing “told me what?” he retorted “exactly” I pointed at him “boy, don’t play me stupid. Sis came out in your clothes, smelling like expensive weed and aftershave, her weave wasn’t in place either. Come on? We know how this baby came along; Robyn is always horny too. Chile, how many times did we hear those toys go off?” I busted out laughing “wow, I am telling her everything you said. If you tell me where she hides them?” I asked “they are in New York I think anyways. She probably has a collection for every place of stay” Jahleel is funny “so you are sitting with us, we will be eating” Mel said but I want to sit with Robyn “but you know” I dragged out saying “I know but you two need to not, so sit with us. I am moving for you to sit with you, be appreciative!” Mel hit my arm playfully “you know, I ain’t like how the cousin spoke to me. He lucky I ain’t knock his ass out, I ain’t no punk bitch Mel. I don’t fuck with that” sipping my drink, I am truly angry at it, but I calmed down seeing how beautiful Robyn looks, I was taken a back by it all. She looks so good “and I don’t want that Chris, this is why I am here for you. He won’t say anything anyways, not again Chris. Just relax and let’s go to eat some good food” nodding my head.

Dennis pointed and laughed “we meet again, what are you doing here?” Dennis shook my hand “I was about to take a picture and then I was like, I know this guy. You are growing your hair out again to colour it blonde?” shaking my head laughing “nah, just sitting in my depression. You know how it is, but don’t you like it? It makes me look less skinny, in the face anyways” touching my beard “there is growing it out and there is not knowing a barber, it’s good to see you here” he patted my shoulder before walking off, turning back in my seat facing the wall flower, it’s a nice thing they done though. She is lucky to have such a loving family to do this, but they have put me on a table and I am facing away from Robyn, shit sucks majorly. Mel doesn’t want us to be eyeing each other, which I was earlier but that is because I just want to be close to her “I saw those gifts you got her from the baby shower you did” Mel said to me in a whisper “that were so cute, the painting you did too. I said to Robyn he is really impressing you” I grinned, it’s nice to hear that Mel is seeing the effort I am making “you know I wasn’t joking about wanting to marry her” I bought up the subject again, Mel seemed to not like it back when I said it and I didn’t get why “Chris, you getting her pregnant was enough. To prove you are a good man you don’t need to marry her. I am not being negative, but I just love you both, and what if she says no? You don’t need to do this at all” nodding my head, I understand where she is coming from “if we was both supposed to be with anybody else then we would have been, I fucked up and I want to marry her. If she says no then so be it but I tried. Yes, it will hurt my ego a little too. I even got her a ring even though she has my other ring I gave her, we have already been engaged Mel, we already had a baby. We could have had it all years ago, now it’s just wasting time. Maybe I am crazy, I have always been crazy. I jump and I don’t question shit” Mel nodded her head “I just don’t want her to say no and that to upset you” I understand Mel’ concern but if she doesn’t then she doesn’t but I see a future with Robyn, she makes me happy.

Getting up from the chair, it’s like everyone went silent. It was weird but then the chatter started again “where are you going?” Mel asked, “to pee, where is the toilet?” Jahleel also got up “let me take you and hold your Royal penis since it’s so good” I laughed out watching Jahleel being deadly serious with that comment “nigga, you are so dumb but yeah, he will show you” letting him walk ahead of me, Robyn is already looking. She is sat with her parents which is cute to see, flashing her a smile as I walked behind Jahleel “I hope you don’t mind that I made that joke, it was just a joke” he said but I am not offended “I am ok with that, I know you’re funny but harmless with it” looking over at Robyn as I walked by her, this is Robyn’ fault. She is looking at me and making it look noticeable “where you sleeping tonight? I peeped your bag, you is not slick sir” Jahleel pointed at me as he turned around to look at me, I laughed “Monica will be kicking me out but I will be sleeping with you, how about it?” Jahleel laughed “no but seriously, where are you sleeping?” I shrugged “probably in a hotel, I don’t know” I am not going to say where “liar, you are such a liar. Oh wow, Rorrey what you are doing here?” I literally groaned out “Tee called me” who the hell is Tee, oh is that the cousin “well it’s Robyn’ day! Seriously” Jahleel said, Rorrey laughed pointing at me. He is drunk, this is not good “you taking up space in my home” he said pointing at me “it’s your mom’ home but ok, I am not even here for you and this is not your day or mine nigga. I ain’t going to entertain you at all” walking by him but he touched my shoulder and now I don’t fuck with that, I don’t care if that nigga is the pope. Turning around and pushed him “don’t touch me” I said “come on guys, lets pretend we all like each other for one day” Jahleel said “you only bully women” Rorrey said and I just snapped, I punched him in the face and he just fell back onto the ground “oh my god” Jahleel said, Rorrey knocked straight to the ground. Staring at Rorrey on the ground, Jahleel rushed to him. Looking around me feeling my heart beating fast, this is not good, and I am going to have an anxiety attack “he’s breathing, wow” Jahleel said “we should move him, I don’t want this day being ruined. Pick him up” he said ever so calmly but I am having a meltdown.

I knocked out Robyn’ brother, she is going to kill me. Jahleel and I just stared at each other in this room, just looks like a room where they keep rubbish in but we are just sat waiting for him to get him “why aren’t you telling on me?” I asked “are you mad? This is her baby shower! I can’t. I just don’t need her to have heart pains now. She has already been upset so you know, we need to clean this up” oh god, I have fucked it up and I shouldn’t have done it but people test me and now she will not want me around “he’s going to tell her and I will look the bad person now, I fucked up. He wanted that, I did it” that is it, I fucked up “I heard what he said to you though, if you was in the wrong I would say it” it’s still bad “he is waking up” Jahleel said, I might as well beat his ass if he talks more shit. Watching him get up ever so confused, he was out for a while “you got knocked the fuck out homie!” Jahleel said, Rorrey looked at me as he got up shakily, he is wobbly on his feet, but he got up “I don’t want to fight you, I don’t want this shit! I want peace and you are fucking up my vibe!” I spat “I think for the sake of Robyn’ sanity, you both need to quit it now” he seems so confused “it’s not worth losing my sister, I am going” he held his face trying to walk out but he held the wall “does that mean you ain’t going to tell? I wouldn’t, you got knocked out” Jahleel is funny but also he is annoying him “I never came” Rorrey opened the door and walked out, Jahleel ran out behind him and I just sat here on the ground. I don’t trust him; he may tell so I need to be prepared for my exit from this place and to see Robyn’ hurt face and then I did it.

The door opened, I didn’t leave this spot at all “he’s gone, come. You need to pee right?” Jahleel said “you sure he’s gone?” getting up from the floor “he has, I watched him go. I think you may have knocked sense into him but come let’s go” walking towards Jahleel “so the story is, we fucked. I am joking but we have taken so, long!” Jahleel screamed and then I looked, Monica is here like what is she doing “Robz is opening things, she asked where you was all” letting out an oh, were we that long “I was giving Chris a tour of the home mom” Jahleel nodding his head “yes he was” I agreed “mhmmm well come” I have still not had a pee yet, it will get to a point where I will have to pee in a bottle. Following behind Monica, looking down at my hand. My knuckle is very sore right now, I was so angry that he said that to my face too, oh ok the room is very full “hi friend! I am here!” Jahleel is loud and I just want to hide, I will stand behind the cousins Robyn doesn’t like but deals with, like way in the corner. Leaning on the wall in the corner, I am so left out with it all and I am just getting stared at, like I shouldn’t be here, but I am for Robyn. Sighing out resting my head back, I am tired. I am so tired of fighting when I mind my business, see when I am high I don’t have to think about anything but now I do. I am tired of battling and still coming as the bad guy, I am alone in this and if Robyn turns on me then I really have nothing, they only deal with me because of Robyn, I am fed up and I hate it. Nobody has ever thought what shit they say affects me because when I die, that is when they will say he was a good guy, it’s fake, it’s all fake. Watching Robyn from where I am stood, she looks so good pregnant, a real princess and I am not there really like I wanted because I feel awful about that, I will get caught out because shit is never good for me. Pushing myself away from the wall, I can sneakily go outside.

All of these gifts are so adorable, like half of the things I have got is amazing. I have noticed the trend; they all are calling my baby Fenty. I have not even decided on a name or thought of it to be honest, I have so many gifts to get through “pass me that” I pointed at the very bag Chris got, he said Birkins and I wants to see them. Literally made the effort, even the baby shower gift bag, he must have went out and got that it is so cute. Clapping my hands together in excitement, I am excited to see what he bought me “thank you dad” pulling the gift bags closer to me, looking up to see Chris but my face dropped, he is not there. Looking around the room confused, where did he go because he was right there stood in the corner. He has been missing for a while since he went to the toilet “come on Robyn, we want to see!” my cousin shouted “yeah” I smiled looking into the bag and seeing the orange box, he filled out the card on the side too. Turning it around to read it “baby dumplings with the birkins” I laughed out saying, he is so goofy “thank you Chris” I said his name even though he nowhere to be seen at all.

Side eyeing Majesty “you better leave my daughter bag alone girl” she out here trying to take my daughter’ bag now “auntie, I am just looking” pointing at her “you better be, I am so happy with it all. Ja thank you, when I saw the Savage Fenty box, I was like I know they didn’t get my daughter lingerie already, they are the sweetest team. It’s cute” hugging him “it was funny because I said the same thing, I was like she is a baby” I cooed out “I am so blessed to have such a good team, Jen couldn’t make it but her son is not well. But you all are good for me, you all are there for me. I wanted to ask, where did you go with Chris? He has disappeared, is he ok?” I asked Ja, he nodded his head “simply fine, we just you know. I erm, took him around the home like a house guest. That makes no sense, but all is well, he is fine. Probably needed some air” he could be right “well while everyone is here, I might just see” nobody is outside so I can just see him, if he is here unless he has gone home, imagine that. Stepping outside, looking around and then seeing him sat at the table on his own, the kids are running riot here, but I wonder why he is out here alone. Chris saw me and was quick to get up “it’s ok, sit. I came to find you. You walked out” Chris met me half way “I know but you don’t need to be walking around, you will start saying you’re tired. I just you know, needed some air” I want to touch him, but I will resist “thank you for the bags, they look so nice. They were expensive, I can tell they were more then the average because I ain’t seen those designs yet, I read the card too. I swear we are having words about this dumpling business” Chris snorted laughing “already got the song lyrics for it, I ain’t playing either” I believe him “I don’t want you to be hiding, I didn’t mean that. Just I don’t want them to see we are close and whatever. I have to get them to sign NDAs but I don’t trust them. I am super happy you came though, I didn’t expect it at all from you. Just made me sad you wasn’t stood there” Chris’ attention diverted and started to look elsewhere “Robyn, I got to tell you something” looking behind me, why the fuck is Rorrey here “you know what, I am sick of him and his shit” what gives him and Teejay the fucking right. I have been after him all day actually after all that business early, he has been hiding from me.

#Chrianna FF #Chrianna #Chrianna Fanfiction #Fanfiction #Fanfic

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weltonreject · 5 years

Text

Selling a Fake

| Theo didn’t fly home right away; he stayed in Antwerp and together, he and Boris flew back to New York. They start over, two troubled teenagers all over again. They’ve replaced scorching Vegas summers with chilling New York winters. It was never about the place anyway. They’re together-- they’re something-- but Theo still struggles to be open to strangers passing by. | [9.3k] [ao3]

Holding hands with Boris in public was still uncomfortable; still felt like an unnecessary announcement to the world about things that were grotesque and hidden for a reason. Theo used to think it was because time spent with Boris was time spent completely obliterated and sloppy. Admitting to strangers his associations with Boris felt like openly lifting a bump to his nose in public. Well, that’s what Theo thought it felt like, until he realized that maybe being with Boris openly was the only thing that felt so criminal in the first place.

That, of course, was what Thursday afternoon brunches were for: trying to make spending time together less criminal and more commonplace, as two lovers should feel.

“It is your pick today, Potter. You have chosen, yes?” Boris asked, walking beside Theo. They were still in Theo’s neighborhood. Barely able to acknowledge the other existed just yet.

“I was thinking that place we had three weeks ago. I really just want an omelette I think.” Theo shrugged, stepping around the block.

Boris laughed and nudged his side, arm going around his shoulders before dropping to his waist. “So easy to please, Potter. Pick somewhere exciting! These Thursdays, they are fun, no? Meant to be extravagant! Daring!”

“I think I’ve had enough of all of that for a while.” Theo said, turning to look at Boris just barely over the top of his glasses. “They’re just supposed to be nice Thursday mornings. You know how being normal works, right, Boris?”

He scoffed. “Normal? When have we subscribe to normal?”

It was true; between the two of them, they’d done enough in their lives to be unable to step back into normal lives. At least, beyond normal on the surface. They could pretend for anyone who passed, but the truth between them was still that their childhoods had passed in a spotted haze and that their early twenties were nearly lost to a poor art deal. But they’d recovered. The painting, their lives, their money, their sanity.

Everyone was fine. Everything was back where it should have been.

“It’s a figure of speech.” Theo said, still letting himself be led by Boris down the sidewalk. “Normal.”

“I think we are normal.” Boris said nodding firmly. “Yes. We are. Two men, on four legs, healthy-- making money fist over fist!”

“It’s hand over fist.”

“Don’t care! Fist, hand, leg, foot! We’re making it and we’re happy, yes! And now we’re on the way to eat. What could be better?”

“A mimosa, probably.” Theo muttered, casting a glance to the storefronts as they passed.

Shop owners with hoses, cleaning the sidewalk; mothers with their babies trying to get rays of morning sun; children on their way to school; all impossibly bland and predictable strangers that made Theo step farther away from Boris. His arm dropped with a slap against his leg. It fell as if Theo had snapped it, cutting off all feeling from his shoulder down.

“How about coffee instead?” Boris pointed with his other hand over to a coffee cart just across the street. He reached for his wallet just as Theo reached for his arm; the guilt had gotten him before the shame had. “What? No coffee?”

“Well, no. I’ll just get some there.” Theo said quietly. “But also, I mean--” He lifted Boris’s arm as it hung lifelessly in his grasp, trying to motion it back to where it had been. “Sorry.”

“What are you doing?” Boris still hadn’t given life back to his arm. He seemed to enjoy Theo’s wordless proposal of public affection, the bastard. “Do you need itch?”

“What? No! I--I’m trying to say you can-- you know what? Forget it.” Theo sighed, lowering Boris’s arm. He rolled his eyes and let himself smile as Boris burst out in a honking laugh. He grabbed Theo again, his time his hand sitting loosely on his hip. Comfortable and nonchalant.

“So serious, Potter.” He furrowed his eyebrows and mocked Theo’s usual look of concern and anxiety. “It is too early for people to care-- too early to drink too, so twice amount not caring. Not even looking at us, Potter. Don’t be so paranoid.”

Theo couldn’t help it. Sure, the sidewalk was sparsely populated and the noise level was at a low, easy minimum, but there was still something ringing inside Theo. An alarm bell he couldn’t find or still, the metal reverberating and shaking his bones.

“I’m serious, Potter. No one around.” He leaned forward, like he was going to kiss him.

“And I’m serious, Boris.” He didn’t push Boris away, but spoke firmly, hushing his voice. “These people live near me. I see them all the time. They used to know my parents… They know clients.”

Boris nodded and leaned back, his hand still resting on Theo’s hip. His thumb moved over the roughness of his wool coat. “Okay. Okay.”

There was a moment, once the initial panic faded, that Theo wasn’t so afraid of his old and new neighbors seeing him with Boris. There was a level of sophistication to them: two grown and healthy (healthier, let’s say. Cutting down on the oceans of alcohol they’d been drinking had helped their complexions and overall youthfulness) men walking in stride together; one poised and creased to a perfect angle, polished glasses, and a new haircut; the other refusing a trim but still sleek in his all black look, trouser to sweater, even his trench coat a fierce coal black, only the buttons glinting in the morning winter sun. They were two attractive young men that looked attractive together. They looked well put together and somewhat dignified.

So what, Theo wanted to posture. So what if I’m with him? Theo felt a sort of authority in suddenly demanding the old image of him be changed; from poor helpless orphan to a grown, fruitful entrepreneur. He wanted them to notice that something new in his step: certainty.

Yeah. So fucking what.

ii.

The restaurant-- a little corner place mostly of windows with dusted periwinkle walls-- wasn’t crowded when they walked inside. A small bell on the door announced their entrance and all the waitstaff turned to acknowledge them.

“Pick your seat, we’ll be right with you, hun.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Theo started unbuttoning his coat as Boris walked ahead to pick the table.

He picked one in the center, the surrounding tables empty. “Two coffees. Please.” He held up two fingers, anticipating the waitress’s question as he shimmied his coat off. “I don’t think they have mimosa here, Potter.”

“Hm. Shame.” He placed his coat and scarf carefully over the back of the chair. “Maybe coffee is better than champagne at eleven in the morning, huh?”

“Both do the trick, we both know this.”

“What trick is that?”

“Getting us out the door for the day. Just different moods.” Boris winked, folding his hands in front of him. “One cup of coffee, we were functional, maybe a smile if we were lucky. Champagne? Hangover gone and those boring teachers, a bit funner! All the shitheads in class easier to listen to. Like changing dials on radio-- music!”

“Walden is so much better drunk.” Theo hummed, rubbing his one eye under his glasses. “Oh man, you remember Leaves of Grass?”

Boris snorted a laugh. “No!”

“Barely!” Theo agreed, shaking his head.

Laughing at pain was easier when it was closed over and finished; the desert had given them such an excuse to seek out destruction. Nothing around them could grow, so why should they? There was no need to. As hard as leaving Vegas was back then, Theo could at least acknowledge that leaving kick-started his ability to change-- at first for the worst, and then somewhat back toward the baseline for normalcy.

“Here’s two black coffees-- and some creamers.” A new woman came up swiftly, nearly singing the order, and placed the mugs down steadily in front of them. Not a drop spilled before placing a handful of creamers between them. “Alright, gentleman. What can I get for you?”

“He orders for me.” Boris volunteered, placing his menu down.

“Oh, that’s sweet.” The waitress had an unplaceable twang to her voice. It made her endearment sound only slightly pitiful, like she didn’t know what to do with herself. “I wish my husband knew me well enough to do that.”

“Husband?” Theo choked on his sip of coffee he had yet to take.

“Friends for many years, him and I. Boyhood-- idiots, mostly. Mistakes made together are twice learned, you know.” Boris steam-rolled Theo’s panic, grinning brightly as he lifted his own coffee up. He gulped it quickly, giving Theo a chance to sputter out a response.

“He’s not my husband.” Theo said sharply. No, no way. Did people like Boris get married? Well, Theo supposed, people like him would marry people like Theo-- for example. Or, more shortly, people like them married those like themselves; Theo to Boris was not much of a stretch.

“Oh.” Her name was Daisy, according to her name tag. But it could’ve been anyone’s, taken out of a bin at the start of her shift.

Introducing himself was not part of the interaction at a restaurant, but Theo knew his credit cards had his name on it-- did he have enough cash to slip away unknown?

Boris spoke loudly as he swallowed, as if talking over Theo’s thoughts. “Cannot! Need to find a uh, kościół, uh,” He waved out to Theo, knowing the word was translatable, if not only because of their long talks from years before.

“Church.” Theo relayed, blinking up at Daisy. He smiled, suddenly familiar with the art of lying, of selling a fake. “He’s very particular about what church we go to. Catholics, ya know?”

This made Daisy laugh, openly and with her hand on her stomach. The guest check and pen pressed against the waistband of her apron-- Theo only noticed then she was pregnant. A mother, warming up to strangers in the middle of her long morning shift. His smile turned genuine and he reached across the table, about to take Boris’s hand but failing half way and awkwardly taking his coffee mug again.

“So what can I get you two? Besides a good priest?”

“Ha ha.” Theo’s laugh came out calculated accidentally. He cleared his throat before he spoke again. “Uh, we’ll both have omelettes, yeah?” He looked at Boris who shrugged as if he had no say in the matter. “He’ll have… everything in it-- except mushrooms and tomatoes. And uh, I’ll just take a western. Thanks.”

“I’ll get that started for you right away.” She touched Theo’s shoulder as she passed. She scribbled hurriedly before disappearing into the kitchen. Her steps were loud and flat-footed. Theo wondered how badly her swelling feet hurt.

When Theo refocused, Boris was laughing into his coffee and finishing the cup in two strong gulps.

“What?”

“Why did you lie to her? She is no one.”

“You started!”

“Because you were about to act like we are business partners-- nothing to nobody! She would have felt embarrassed all day. She is nice lady-- beautiful and going to feed us. Why lie to her? Who is she?” Boris had far too much reason. It was kind of irritating, kind of what Theo loved about Boris. Not that he’d ever said that aloud. Still.

And with that, he changed the subject. “What else did you want to do today?”

“Today is your plan.” Boris said. He flagged down a passing waitress for more coffee.

It was well known that Boris was a fast and gluttonous eater; childhood of food insecurity led to the appearance of adult greed. Theo understood, but that day in particular, there was something unsettling in Boris already sipping his second cup of coffee. Meals weren’t set to timers, but they did have a certain flow to them. One cup per half of a meal, on a regular pace. There were social cues assigned to the timing of a meal: when to get refills, when to ask for more of something, when to decide if you wanted dessert, when to ask for the check, when to open the check. Boris gulping down his second cup put Theo behind time, stationary but rushing to catch up. There was a warning he was missing-- why was Boris going so fast? What was he ignoring--

“Potter?” Boris placed his cup down across from Theo’s hand. His finger reached across the divide to poke him gently. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You are staring at me. And not in way I like.”

“Nothing. I’m fine.” Theo shook his head and exhaled slowly. He wanted to cry, right there in the restaurant, like some kind of startled infant. Everything was shaking, but only on the inside; Theo didn’t dare make a move.

“You’re lying again.”

“I’m not!”

“Theodore.” Boris snapped, chopping off Theo’s rebuttal. It was a sign he wanted to know and wasn’t going to dance around it. He wasn’t mad, but could very well be if they wanted to play that game. Theo did not.

“Could you…” he groaned at his own request. “Could you eat a little slower? Please.”

“Why does that bother you? Another thing I do that--”

“No. It makes me feel rushed… Like I’m missing something. I-- I want to feel like I have all afternoon with you. We’re not running anywhere.” Theo sighed, meeting Boris’s gaze and watching his eyes fizzle out with a blink.

“Rushed? No, no. Did not mean-- Yes. Can eat slower. Ridiculous request, but yes. Absolutely.”

“I-I’m sorry. Just for today, I guess. I mean, I don’t want to-- I’m just feeling really--”

“Potter, relax! I said yes, right? I will try.”

A part of relationships was asking things from one another, the other part was willingness to do them. As their plates were placed in front of them minutes later, Theo sat wondering what he’d agreed them to.

Leaving Boris was never an option as it was, even back in Vegas, it had just been the desperate choice made, as he felt, for Theo. He would’ve never left if he thought there was another way, he would’ve waited, he would’ve kissed back. Being reunited with Boris-- somehow safer and more sound than in the Netherlands-- was the only path Theo would consider for the future. He never truly gave much thought for The Future as it hurtled toward him, but he knew that it had to have Boris in it for it to have any clarity whatsoever.

With that said, was that the basis of a relationship? Codependency? Maybe that was just loyalty to them by that point. They’d traded enough secrets and drugs to know the other beyond the bounds of friendship-- and definitely beyond the comforts of using the word brotherhood.

What was the word, then? Dating? No. It wasn’t a trial period. Married? Even without the legal fanfare, it didn’t seem right. Theo had dodged one engagement, and watched enough marriages topple after being built on faulty foundations, to begin questioning its integrity. What was Theo talking himself into suddenly? What union was he suggesting they’d become?

And worse, what was Boris agreeing to, picking up his fork like it was an instrument, careful but steady as he got ready to eat. He waited for Theo.

“Sto lat.” Theo muttered, lifting a piece of toast to Boris.

“To us.” He reached over and took the corner piece off of Theo’s toast. He popped it in his mouth with a wink.

iii.

They ate quietly, starting conversations before bites and letting them die while they chewed. It was incoherent at best, but the listening was innate. Theo nodded and hummed in acknowledgement as Boris tried speaking around his food-- still horrible with table manners but at least eating at the pace of a regular human being. He folded to Theo’s request, little argument and no bite. It was kind, but Theo couldn’t help itching to know what Boris would want from him.

“I’ll take the check, please.” Theo said to Daisy quietly, touching her elbow as she walked past. “When you get a second.”

“Of course! Did he like what you ordered?” She grinned, tearing a check out of her book.

“I heard no complaints.” There would never be a complaint over food. It was their common point; if either of them offered food as a meeting place, they’d gobble it up passing bread and wine and laughter.

“Delicious, very much so.” Boris chimed in, placing his napkin down. Wait, napkin. Theo eyed it curiously as the check was slipped into his hand. Boris really was putting the husband act on thick; it didn’t appear too artificial.

“Thank you for humoring me; our meal was an hour and a half.” Theo noted, checking his watch as he opened his wallet. He hovered over his cards before grabbing cash. Anonymity in at least name only. He gave her twice the gratuity tip, tucking all the bills around the check before pushing his chair back.

“Humor? Yes. I did have fun.” Boris pushed himself back and whipped on his coat in one swift motion. His coattails swung out and grazed over the chairs behind him. His front pocket hung heavy, Theo not knowing what was resting inside until they got outside.

On their way out, Theo thanked Daisy quickly and sincerely. He patted her arm and congratulated her-- softly, of course, in case it wasn’t public news. She grinned and waved them both out. She told Theo where he could find accepting clergy in town.

Theo let the door sink closed behind him, the muffled bell ringing inside. Boris produced a cigarette from his front pocket and started down the sidewalk. He held it unlit between his lips as he clicked his lighter unsuccessfully. Theo never carried one, not in his good coat at least. Imagine the look: an antiquesman with a BIC lighter? More like: unemployed.

“Where to now?”

“Uh, I don’t know.” Theo confessed, looking up and down the street. He was trying to guess where the city could house them. At least for the afternoon. On Thursdays, everything felt too committal, too ingrained in their routine to risk being seen. Theo couldn’t cut his usual business spots out if they disapproved of his company. “Oh, how about a movie?” They were safe. Darkness usually was.

“What is playing?”

“I think some slasher, a romcom or something, and that eighties re-release.” Theo recalled, having somehow remembered from the paper that morning.

“How about: re-release and I get pop-corn.” Boris finally caught a light, taking in a long inhale. Since coming back to the states, Boris changed his usual brand. They were stronger smelling, and lasted longer. The stale and thick smell hanging around Boris’s mouth longer, clinging to his hair for just a fraction more than it took to put the end out.

“I’m not really hungry after that.” Theo said, placing a hand on his chest.

“Not say it was for you.” Boris tisked, holding the cigarette out for Theo to take. “So greedy.”

“Is that what you ask of me?” Theo asked, still calculating. “Not to take your food?”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Just talking shit.” Theo said, hissing the smoke out in a sidestream, away from Boris. The taste was near tangible, his tongue going over his top teeth as he passed the cigarette back. He didn’t look at Boris, knowing he’d give something away. Something else away.

A cab would have been easier, but Boris insisted on walking. Can’t smoke in a cab, he’d correctly insisted. Going through three cigarettes between the two of them proved Boris’s insistence to be reasonable. Theo puffed them down the quickest, taking long, deep breaths every time. Boris seemed surprised each time the filter would be passed back to him.

Walking wasn't the problem. It was watching the flags in the windows change from countries and sports teams to ones of rainbow variety. The Quad was in the Village, the two of them stepping right into the quiet corner of the city Theo always felt off visiting. He wanted to stare, as if to say, hey, me too. But always stared at his shoes instead, accidentally saying, i don’t want to see you or be seen by you. It was a difficult line to cross-- one of solidarity to bigotry-- but Theo knew it well. The two sides were miles apart but each step wobbled between the other.

Theo wasn’t sure what he thought of rainbow flags. If he should want one or even feel some kind of kinship with it.

Boris must’ve caught him staring.

“You want one?” He pointed openly to the large flag hanging outside of an apartment complex; safe-space housing for all couples and families.

“No.”

“Why not? You keep staring! On way home, we stop. Get you one. Hang it over your desk-- with all your boring fucking papers-- will look nice! Come on, Potter. I’ll get it for you-- or just take it from the building myself.” Boris nudged Theo’s side, his hand grabbing Theo’s forearm briefly; his hands were stuffed in his pockets.

“No! I don’t want one.” Theo hissed. “What about you? Why don’t you get one?”

“Am not gay, is why.” Boris said without surprise or elaboration. It was the first they’d ever truly discussed the topic. It was obvious where their sexualities overlapped, but it was clear to Theo that Boris, while his only at the moment, wouldn’t have been his only male partner.

“Consider me lost.” Theo said. This was definitely it, what Boris was going to ask for: for Theo to not let his inability to love anyone else overshadow the fact that Theo was Boris’s lucky strike, his one in a million, the only man he’d sleep with because he was in between girlfriends.

Theo held his breath and tried to act casual. He reached out of his pocket and into Boris’s for another cigarette. It forced him to breathe.

“Am beyond-- word is so small. Limiting to whole picture. God, or whatever have out there. Am not one word. If I do everything with love, why pick one kind of person. Love is for all, no?”

“I guess.”

Oh god, Theo huffed and tried to pretend the smoke was burning his eyes. Was he limiting to Boris? Was he putting too much weight in what was just finding happiness? Wasn’t it supposed to be ephemeral. Wasn’t that what made happiness so grand in the first place; it could come and go as it pleased. It had no master and no control, opposing the moon and the tides.

It was fine if Boris didn’t think of himself as gay, that wasn’t any of Theo’s business, but it mattered if Boris thought of their… whatever it was as casually as he thought of passing kindness and love onto strangers. Boris was a very open person generally-- but loving? No. That was supposed to be for Theo, or at least he so selfishly thought.

iv.

In the dark of the movie, some synth tune playing from the speakers and laughter bubbling up from the seats, Boris grabbed Theo’s hand. The tips of his fingers were greasy and pricked with granules of salt. It was almost as if he’d gotten the impulse to grab him, unable to wipe his hands and waste another second. It wasn’t the truth, but the thought moved Theo near tears. A burden couldn’t do that, could he?

“Hey.” Theo whispered.

“Yeah?” Boris moved his hair away from his ear, leaning closer.

It was dark. No one would see them. The seats were tall and the rows were short. They were in the Village for fuck’s sake.

“Nevermind. I’ll tell you later.” Theo muttered, squeezing Boris’s hand. “Not important.”

“I think I should head back home.” Theo said, turning is collar up against the sudden dusk wind.

They’d found a strip of stores they’d never seen before after the movie, winding in and out of aisles, pretending they’d never touched the other before. Theo was startled every time Boris’s hand found its way onto his back. It was closing in on dinnertime and Theo was getting hungry. There was something leftover in Hobbie’s fridge, there always was.

“Come back with me-- I’m closer!” Boris pointed in the zigzagging directions they’d need to walk to reach his apartment. “I even get you cab if your feet are tired. Here, let me--”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll just go home, Boris. Really.” Theo had convinced himself that Boris was just being polite in his invitation. “I’ll see you later.”

“Theo, stay.” Boris swept forward and grabbed Theo’s hand, keeping him from stepping onto the crosswalk. A stream of people pushed past them, shouldering Theo’s stationary figure. “Let me order food on walk there. Pick it up before we go up-- fastest restaurant on the block. Trust me. Really really good-- authentic too. Chinese guys, family recipes. To die for. Here, look, I call right now.”

Before Theo could twist his hand out of Boris’s grasp, the phone was lifted to his ear. He ordered quickly, barely in English, before tapping off the call and slipping his phone in with his lighter and near-empty box of cigarettes.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Is already done. Let’s go. Do you want car or to walk? I think car, you’ve been walking all day. God, wish I still had my driver. We’d already be on the couch by now. No, we find taxi. Get you off your feet. Long day of critiquing, Potter.” Boris said with a laugh, walking up to the edge of the curb-- nearly off of it-- as he summoned a passing cab to him. He hadn’t let go of Theo’s hand.

“That flea market was reselling stuff from Pottery Barn.” Theo said in defense.

“‘Is not worn correctly! Too even, too fine!’ hilarious how much there is to know! And yet, Potter, you know all of it.” Boris opened the door for him. He lifted their hands, like Theo was a woman in tall heels in danger of falling as he sat down in the back.

“It’s my job to know.”

“This is true. It is. To know very much about so little.” Boris climbed in beside him, slamming the door.

The driver was looking at them through the rear view mirror. His eyes hovered downward before going back to Theo’s, eyebrows lifted.

“Uh, not me.” Theo sputtered, pointing at Boris. The address, the physical name and number of it, slipped his mind. It was just muscle memory; a North Star if Theo ever believe in it.

“Is my place.” Boris said, remembering his end of the transaction. He recounted his address, patting the back of the driver’s seat goodnaturedly before doing the same to the top of Theo’s hand. He still hadn’t let go.

“Isn’t it a bit early to be turning in, fellas?” The driver had a deep voice, but spoke kindly-- and drove like a bit of a maniac.

“Been out all day! Breakfast, movie, shopping-- god! Walking, walking, walking.”

Theo hated that he didn’t name their activity as just walking. No, it had to be shopping. Shopping sounded so feminine and suburban. They were grown men with multiple commas to their savings accounts. They didn’t shop. They went and they bought, otherwise they were just perusing. He twisted his hand in Boris’s, a small warning he was growing uncomfortable. Claustrophobic in his own skin; so little places to go.

“I don’t see any bags. Nothing to your liking?” The driver asked. Theo didn’t like the tone. They didn’t have ridiculous taste just because they were two men. No, their high taste was because of how sticky their fingers got around fine art and antiques, but that wasn’t always a welcome rebuttal.

“No. Friend here knows too much to be swindled by Potpourri Barn!”

“Pottery Barn, Boris.” Theo corrected softly. God, he sounded like a nagging wife.

“Yes! The Barn! All not old-- but they say it was! Lying to our faces! HA, if they only knew.”

“That’s New York for you.” The driver laughed. “How long you two in town? Week-long getaway? Honeymoon?”

“We both live here.” Theo cut in. “We’re from… Well, I’m from here.” After opening his mouth, there was no way to convince anyone that Boris was from Manhattan. “We’re not on vacation.”

“Oh, sorry. Nothing against you, just seems like a lot for locals.”

“We had a day. Two of us.”

“Boris, shut up.” Theo hissed, yanking his hand like rope to a curtain. Cut the show, he’d seen enough.

“What? We can small talk, can we not? There will be traffic-- can not spend it in silence.”

Boris really did everything with love, in some weird way, didn’t he? Sure, etiquette wasn’t the first thing on his mind, but he was a people person; making even the most benign interactions for a New Yorker enjoyable. He wasn’t going to make their driver sit in awkward silence while they did the same in the back.

“Am I stealing his attention away?” The driver was teasing Theo now, casting a glance up at him despite swerving the car into another lane. “I can let you two talk."

“No, I didn’t mean it like that.” Now Theo just looked rude.

“It’s okay! I get like that with my boyfriend all the time. I understand.”

“Boyfriend! You have one. Tell me. Better than sun on Earth?” Boris cheered, resting their laced fingers in his lap.

“Of course.”

“Ah, so there is two.” Boris added with a chuckle, stealing a look at Theo.

The sweet sentence soured within Theo. The alarm was going off, but there was nowhere for the sound to go. The walls were close together-- skin tight-- and the echo began throbbing in Theo’s ears. Who was this man? How did they know he was okay to trust? Who else did he know that he’d start blabbing too-- Oh I had these gay guys in my cab last week. One looked like a sheep dog and the other, man, like a male Velma Dinkley or something. Wait? Yeah! Do you know ‘em? No shit! I had no idea. Well, let me tell you--

“--Potter, he is talking to you.”

“Huh? What?” Theo gasped, sitting up again. He still hadn’t let go of Boris’s hand. “Sorry.”

“I just asked what you have against Pottery Barn. Your husband says you were reaming them out while you guys were shopping. What gives?”

“Uh,” Theo wasn’t going to correct someone for the second time that day. “It’s given forced character. It doesn’t have any life to it. You can’t fake that on furniture; it makes the room feel stiff rather than inviting.”

“Oh, wow.” The driver mulled the sentence over. “Into interior design?”

Theo clenched his teeth, trying not to be offended or feel cornered. It was a fair question. He had opinions about room character. He sounded like a gay interior designer. No big deal.

“I deal antiques.” Theo said, voice tight. That wasn’t any better.

“Oh! Well, that makes a lot more sense. Bet you two’s house looks great.” He made his last turn, Boris’s place just straight ahead after a bit.

“Oh no.” Boris said, his hand tightening on Theo’s. He was trying to hold the alarm still. “We do not live together.”

“Oh no?” The driver acted as if he had a say in this matter.

“No.” Boris answered. “Do not.”

Theo’s narrow focus missed all disappointment in Boris’s voice and went instead for the firmness in it. It sounded like a rule: no, we don’t live together. That’s not allowed, not necessary.

It made sense to Theo, if he put his mind (falsely) to it, what good was sharing yourself if you had to share your space too? What was your own after a while?

And here, Theo was hoping he’d have nothing left that wasn’t Boris’s.

vi.

Straight out of the cab, Boris dropped Theo’s hand if only to have both free to carry their food. It was only a block down and around, stories of the taste and delicious flavorful smells-- the smells, Potter, the smell sneaks up at you at night. Can smell it rooms away. So tempting all hours-- spilling out of Boris’s lips. It was easy to stay silent and try to process their cab ride.

For about forty minutes, Theo had been out. Completely and casually. Fully and stupidly. Blindly and happily. Boris didn’t seem to mind the momentous change, chattering relentlessly until Theo was all but pushing him out of the backseat. It hadn’t harmed Theo at all, but he still felt unsettled. It left him wanting to be close with Boris again-- why did he have to drop my hand-- but extra aware of how easy it was to spot them. Two men, easily mislabeled as husbands.

Theo left a considerable distance between them as he followed Boris up the stairs to his apartment. To anyone they passed, he tried to look like an unwilling participant in their conversation. By the time Theo finally got inside, Boris was already setting out their cartons and pulling out a chair for Theo. He took the other rickety metal chair across the table. It was stolen from an old diner or something, Theo was sure. The vinyl had been sun-beaten into a rosey salmon from its original cherry red.

“Come on, take a seat. Take off your coat-- shoes too, what are you thinking of taking off running? Sit with me, Potter. You’ve got to be starving. I’m beat. So hungry. Ready to eat everything in sight. You’ve got to be hungry.” He pointed his chopsticks at the empty seat.

“I still have to go home, remember?” Theo said, keeping his shoes on. “I can’t sleep over again.”

“And why not?” Boris seemed to argue more strongly when he was chewing.

“I never stay two nights.” Theo wasn’t sure if Boris had noticed their strangely unspoken rule, but it was true. They always either alternated or went their separate ways.

“Bullshit! Stay again! My place was closer so we came back here-- stay! Come on, sit down and eat with me. It’s food. No complaints.”

“No, really, I should get back.” Theo rubbed a hand over his face- the one that had been holding Boris’s hand not five minutes before. He could still smell the nicotine and popcorn butter. “I’m sorry to make you get all this food.”

“Theo! Wait!” Boris was scrambling out of his chair. “Not before I speak.” Theo had barely even turned away. Someone new was on the defensive. His eyes were wide as if he was moments from hitting a high, but his eyebrows were furrowed with fear.

Theo had already asked something of Boris that day, but he wished he had saved it to simply be: just fucking say it. End it already.

“I have to get home, Boris.”

“This. This is your home. Can be!” He said, slipping his hands under the shoulders of Theo’s coat. In Theo’s disarmament, he pushed the lapel back and down his arms. “If not, make it so. Put your things next to mine, move the bed, buy paint-- whatever you need. Stay here, with me. Sleepovers are not for grown men, Theo. They are not for us. Men own homes. Two men, yes, two men can own one home. Well, apartment, better word. But own, we can! Together, like old times, practically splitting imaginary rent in father’s house!”

This, and only this, was what Boris was asking of Theo: to live with him. And Theo had all the willingness to do so.

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” The idea seemed preposterous.

“I am. Other key is being made as we speak and-- and I want you to stay. I don’t like the look you get on your face when you talk about taking the ride back to yours. Face gets so long, Potter, I hate it. Makes me want to ride with you, only to make you drive all the way back with me-- we’d live together in the cars between doorsteps! Unable to say goodbye.” Just like old times. “But now we don’t have to! I come home-- ah-ha! You’re here! You come home, hooray, so am I!”

“Boris, this is crazy.”

“Look back at our lives and say that? How can you?” He laughed heartily, still undressing Theo of his outerwear. “We’ve shared the bed in your dad’s house more than we have here. What’s the no for?”

“Are you sure? You want me to live here?”

“I asked, didn’t I?” Boris exclaimed, waving his hands out. The space was his-- theirs. “Live with me, Theo. Stay here. Share with me-- the house, the bed, the food--”

“The rent.” Theo added.

“Hush hush. Missing the point, as always.” Boris cupped his face, as if forcing him to nod. “Do it, yes?”

“Y-Yeah. Okay.” Theo held his wrists, thumbs resting against the back of Boris’s hands. “Okay! Yes, I’ll stay.”

“Perfect! He says yes! He agrees with me!” Boris cried, bringing Theo forward quickly. They kissed and Theo’s glasses are only a little dislodged. “We must celebrate! I think I have some wine-- something in the cupboard! Saved for this very moment!”

“No, no, Boris that’s alright.” Theo would have loved a glass-- or maybe five-- of whatever year Boris somehow always had on tap, but it felt like a recreation. They were sharing the same space again and suddenly slipping down the slope into getting blacked out? No. Maybe not the best idea. “The food is enough. Let me share this with you-- We won’t even use plates. We’ll pass the cartons back and forth on the couch, like we used to when we were in my dad’s house.”

Boris looked touched. He kissed Theo again, softly and with the intent of getting Theo’s rigid posture to melt. It worked.

vii.

On the couch, shoes off and coat still on the ground, Theo rested his head on Boris’s lap. His body stretched out over the other half of the couch, feet over the armrest, while his head was turned to the side, watching the quiet TV program that was on. Theo wasn’t paying attention and he also wasn’t sure if it was in English. He’d finished eating then, but before had a pillow propping his neck up so he didn’t choke in his horizontal dining position. Boris though, was still picking at their carton of lo mein, intermittently resting it on Theo’s chest as he stopped to change the channel or mindlessly move Theo’s glasses up and down on his face, smudging them horrifically. Theo threatened hollowly that if he got any food on him, he’d strangle Boris himself. Boris laughed and poked Theo’s glasses with a greasy finger.

“Asshole.” He mumbled, scrunching his nose to look under the lenses at Boris.

Theo was so full and had such aching bones, as Boris finally replaced the carton with his hand resting on Theo’s chest, he couldn’t help but start to nod off. His breathing became slow and dreamy, his blinking languid and promising.

“Tired, Potter?”

“Not that much. I’m just listening to the TV.” It definitely wasn’t in English.

“Want me to turn it off?” Boris offered. “Or how about change? This making you sleepy?”

“No. No, it’s not.” Theo was half lying. He wasn’t sure how effective it would have been if it was in a language he understood.

“Here, I put on-- Uh, here! Jeopardy! The ‘what is’ show!” Boris pronounced it Jep-ar-dy, clicking the remote quickly. “Here, answer with me. I bet you all-- double, truly!”

“You can’t bet if you don’t get any of the questions right.” Theo said, blinking himself back to consciousness. Alex Trebek’s voice struck him back awake and to where he was. It rattled him, and his alarm.

He remembered watching the show with his mother, even having it on in the background of days in his father’s house. It was a grounding host of sounds-- the timer, the buzzer, the Daily Double chime. It was a show that could be found in every household, every normal family, and here it was entertaining two grown men that were all but-- dare he say it-- married?

That child that used to watch Jeopardy, shouting all the answers and tallying his humble imaginary winnings, was still lying on their couch. His head was resting in Boris’s lap, letting a hand rest on his forehead and ground him in comfort. For a moment, that child was disgusted. His curdling instinct to run struck up inside of Theo and he lurched upright. Boris’s arms lifted in alarm, trying not to accidentally strike him.

That child wasn’t sure when he’d gotten so comfortable being something no one knew about. The apartment was their secret, and so were the memories they were making around the common game show. Theo was a liar in the dark: even when no one was looking. There were people in his life, alive and dead, that would never know this part of him, and he wasn’t sure if that meant it was okay to submit to.

“Potter, what’s wrong?” Boris squinted and reached for Theo’s glasses. He polished them as Theo suffocated the words a younger him would’ve said: god, what are we doing? being fuckin’ girls, staying in and watching TV? god, lets see what Xandra’s hiding and--

“I think I’m going to get ready for bed.” Theo stood, wobbling without his depth perception. Boris held the glasses out as he turned the TV off. “You don’t have to get up. I think I’m just-- I think you’re right. I’m tired.”

“Be in anyway. Five minutes! Can’t play Jeopardy myself-- that’s pointless gambling. Money and bragging rights, that’s always a plus. Can’t brag if you’re the house too!” Boris clapped his hands against his legs before he stood. “Want a smoke?”

Yes yes yes. Yes. “No.”

Theo turned away from Boris’s tisk, going down the thin hallway to the back bedroom. It was poorly lit and even more sorely decorated: dark plum wallpaper, peeling at the seams by the windows, where sticky city summers had taken it victim; a dark oak bed frame bought at a hefty discount because the posts were built too short to look correct when wrapped in canopy, which Boris’s never was; and scratchy blankets that sat on top of simple cotton sheets. There was one dresser, five drawers tall, that had a wood grain that didn’t match the bed or any of the other furniture, and held all of Boris’s belongings-- and still had empty space. Theo wouldn’t have to ask Boris to make any room. He already fit in.

Through the bedroom was the ensuite bathroom, complete with all leaky fixtures and a semi-moldy shower curtain. Theo started the sink, its faucet spitting up thick droplets of water onto his cuffs before starting a slow stream down the side and into the basin. He splashed cold water against his face, nearly forgetting to take his glasses off. His mind began racing, trying to find a way to cover up what he’d done-- but first, he couldn’t seem to place what wrong he’d committed.

He’d felt the same crumpling fear years before, lying flat on his back in Vegas with Boris over him. His hands pressed into the bed on either side of his shoulders, hair framing his face like a waterfall. Boris’s lips were parted and sending his heavy breathing out in rounded gusts; Theo could feel it against his cheeks.

“Are you scared?” Boris asked. He had hope in his voice for a certain answer.

“Yes.” Theo didn’t know what it’d mean, once they’d done It. He was already calculating ways to erase actions he had yet to do. It was like an accidental spill he’d have to pull rugs and tear carpet to cover up in a heated panic-- but he was standing there, waiting to tip the cup. “Yes.”

“Don’t be. Is just me. You know me.”

Sputtering against the cold, Theo knew Boris had been right then and still was. Their shared memories had practically formed a shared consciousness, the two of them taking the same steps, mistakes or not, together; walking in and out of trouble like a waltz. Two people peeled apart at the seam-- at the soul-- and placed on two sides of the country with a timer ticking. Just like a bomb-- the bomb-- maybe.

The towels were like wool as Theo wiped his face, still exhaling strongly. He tossed the towel back on the edge of the sink and began unbuttoning his shirt. He hadn’t grabbed any of his other clothes and had to sleep in just his underwear. He could have borrowed some of Boris’s clothes, but that wasn’t the right cover-up for the situation; that was like pouring red wine to extinguish a fire burning on white carpet.

Not a minute after Theo relaxed into the mattress, his lower back cracking and neck aching at the stretch, the bedroom door opened and Boris came in-- loudly and without much apologies. He knew Theo would still be awake, truthfully.

Boris didn't even reach the dresser; he undressed quickly, dropping his clothes where he stood before sliding under the covers. Theo seized up, if only for a moment at the new warmth beside him. It was practically white hot, rough but like velvet at the same time.

It had been a long day, tugging and pulling away but never knowing what was the better choice. Theo ached all over, but maybe it was for something. For someone. A chance to stop, to settle.

Are you scared?

No.

“Hey.” Theo started carefully, turning over in bed and moving his glasses back on the bridge of his nose.

“Hello.” Boris said with a stupidly happy grin. He spoke formally, if only because Theo always had the habit of doing so when they were that close together. When things had the possibility of getting more intimate.

“Thanks for letting me stay over.”

“I told you. It’s your house now too.” Boris said, holding his arms up to the room. “A man doesn’t have to thank anyone in his own house.”

Theo reached up and grabbed one of Boris’s hands, pulling it down and resting it on his face, careful and calculated. “Borya.” He said. “Thank you.”

“Borya?” Boris repeated, making sure he’d heard Theo correctly. The name was rare and saved for special moments between them; when Theo was haunted by his own buried hatred and repressed desires, and unable to say what he wanted to say, or even initiate what he loved doing with Boris. It was the one-word go ahead for Boris to remind him he had nothing to be ashamed of. “Yes?”

“Yeah.” It was an exhale, forcing himself to go limp and ignore his own panic.

In all honesty, kissing was still very strange to Theo. He could never get out of his head long enough to enjoy it fully. There was too much movement to consider-- while also not a whole lot either. It was like moving cups for a magic trick; there were only so many things he could do without just going completely off-script, and simply being a very bad magician and kisser. Which he constantly thought he was, only to be assured later he wasn’t. Which could be one of the many lies Boris had gotten very good at telling in his growing wisdom and honest swindling.

“You’re stiff, Theo. Is okay.” Boris muttered, hand still cupping his cheek. Theo envied Boris’s ability to cut off any cautious, self-conscious thoughts to his brain. In a matter of moments after Theo’s blushing admittance of wanting to be close with him, Boris was rolling over to brace his weight just over Theo’s chest, slowly pushing him back onto the pillows. “If you want no more just tell me.”

“I’m okay.” Theo hated how unsure he acted despite knowing he wanted to be kissing Boris, holding and touching him, just being with him. No matter how much he knew he’d want to-- in the private freedom of his own thoughts-- when it came to admitting it aloud, to being heard by another person to be wanting those things, even possibly embarrassing himself by saying the wrong things, it was too much. Theo would cower away and be thought to be uninterested. Borya was his way of inching closer while having Boris do most of the moving.

“You look so handsome.” Boris said, smoothing back Theo’s hair. He was really big with compliments. Not only was Boris big with talking in general, he also really liked to believe it helped get Theo talking too. It was yet to do that, but it was still nice that Boris kept it up. “Can I take your specs? I put them aside. Usual place.”

“Y-Yeah. Here.” Theo held his glasses up and squinted into the dark shadows of the room as Boris’s shape moved toward his night stand. It was dark and his vision wasn’t entirely necessary, but it was a comfort, to know exactly where and what he was doing. Not that it mattered-- he was always clueless somehow.

The first time they had sex as sober consenting adults, it was an embarrassing sideshow event. Boris was kind and told Theo how great it was-- so much better than being stupid kids fooling around in their grimy parents’ bathrooms-- but Theo knew it was a disappointing attempt. He’d been silent the entire time, rigid as a board, and kept his arms frozen by his sides. He’d been too horrified by his own delight to speak any man’s name. It was in the last shaky moments of consciousness that Theo began shaking his head. It was intended to stop his own wave of guilt from drowning him, but it ended up startling Boris and getting him to come to a sudden and untimely halt right as Theo was one last deep breath from tumbling over the edge.

He was so embarrassed, he never again brought the idea up, no matter how much he’d wanted to try it once more.

It had been at least six months since then, and Theo was still trying to get better at acknowledging his own comfort, but it was still a daily frustration. There was no one else around, but somehow, Theo couldn’t stop thinking of how he sounded to everyone else. Despite it only being Boris, his Boris, the boy who knew every secret and kept it close and personal. He could trust Boris to die for him-- nearly did-- and still, somehow, his opinion of him scared Theo to no end.

Theo remained silent, much to his own dismay. He was able to bubble up a few sounds-- a hum of agreement, short and staccato; a short hiss that definitely could have been a ‘yes’ if misheard correctly; and a moan that finally broke his mold and had his hands grabbing for Boris’s shoulders as Boris’s one arm tightened around his hips and lower back, and pulled him closer. Boris laughed, not at him, but as his only way to smile wider than he already was. His kisses were lop-sided and off-center from his giggling, slowly infectious and comforting.

By the time Boris was back to full sentences-- at the same time Theo was not-- neither could stop themselves from laughing. They were sitting up, legs overlapping hips and facing opposite directions, Boris’s hands bracing Theo’s back for touch and to keep him from toppling over. Theo was a mess-- hiccuping and giggling and sobbing and snorting. Boris was no better, trying to speak in smooth suave sentences while his crooked smile bared his new, perfect teeth and silenced his coherence.

There was only one exchange, gasped between fits of laughter:

Boris--

Yes? Yes, what? I’m here.

God-- Boris--

Yes. Yes. I know.

Fuck… Boris, Fuck.

Shhh, Theo. You’re okay.

Boris never asked questions-- never tried to instigate Theo or get him to answer during a time he was seconds from collapsing and crumpling-- but instead just listened to Theo, agreeing with his fragmented expletives and constant reminders that he was with the only person he trusted. Hearing that same, slanted voice from beyond Theo’s star-spotted vision after grappling for it in the fog of his fears was a secret rush, a safety Theo couldn’t get enough of.

In the hanging silence afterward, Theo always felt the most self-conscious. He hated how he began to re-feel every part of his body. How now it only felt attached to him and no one else. It was easy to feel ugly that way, to feel embarrassed about letting himself get thrown apart so so easily.

Boris didn’t speak a word. His hands eased Theo back down, letting him lay down before he readjusted and moved to find comfort beside him. Theo listened to their heavy breathing and began to feel like there was panic in Boris’s cadence. It was fast, like he’d been running-- and trying to run faster. The alarm began ringing again, Theo’s bones still fragile and the ringing sending shock waves up to his chest. He gasped, already feeling like his chest was filled with air.

Theo still couldn’t see with full clarity, his hands having to reach out to find Boris’s chest in the dim shadows.

“Why are you breathing like that? Are you mad or something?”

“What? No! No, Theo, I must catch breath.” He laughed again, his chest caving harshly almost in a cough. Oh.

“Y-You’re still catching your-- laughing. That’s it.” Theo exhaled and thought all his bones would turn to liquid as he blinked.

“Yes! Yes! I find you happy-- not funny, nothing to laugh at, no no. But something so happy, it comes from me. Deep in my stomach; just want to laugh when I see you sometimes. Idiots! The both of us! But, still, somehow here together! A plan set by something greater, I know this.”

“Sure.” Theo reached for his glasses with his other hand. He took another deep breath, strictly because he could now.

“You are okay?” Boris placed his hand over Theo’s on his chest.

“Of course I am.” Theo tried to sound flirtatious, like what they had just done wasn’t already trying to be forced down down down and away from his mind-- God, what would everyone think if they knew that-- he was unsuccessful and sounded only half convinced. Boris curled his fingers around Theo’s hand, a panic of his own. “No, really. Yeah. I, uh… I loved it. I--” Theo huffed. “I love you.”

Boris clicked his tongue and rolled onto his side, facing Theo. “Is that what you were trying to say the whole time? The theatrics! ‘Boris! Boris! Oh Boris!’ was that it?”

“Fuck off.” Theo pushed Boris lightly on the shoulder. He was waiting, the time scraping by. Each second seemed to be trying to build to some greater rejection.

But, of course, Boris would never: “Love you too, Potter. ‘Course I do. Would not go through hell for anyone else. My little ptaszyna.”

Theo could feel his entire body again, his legs still slightly quivering and back arching as he shifted. He still felt unsettled and like he’d done something unforgivable, but he kept breathing and listening to Boris breathe. In a small, guiltful reminder, no one knew but them. Theo had disappeared from all but four people’s lives to make sure he could more securely establish himself where he wanted to be. Although, that had very little to do with getting a new address and all to do with the man laying beside him, whispering an old evening comfort: is just me, Potter. Is just me.

#theo and boris #boreo #theo decker #boris pavlikovsky #the goldfinch fic #the goldfinch

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