#once again i will only give them 24 hours to contact me or delete it on their own | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hugheshoe · 3 years

Text

carter hart // lunch dates

request: 28 from the prompt list for carter hart?

28: my mom asked about you again.

word count: 1655 words

a/n: long time no see! enjoy :) (ALSO I COULD SOOOO DO A PART TWO TO THIS SO LET ME KNOW IF YOU WOULD LIKE ONE) feel free to send in any requests <3

- - - - -

Carter Hart: My mom asked about you again.

You put your phone down after rereading and analyzing the text for what feels like the 50th time.

Your brain is currently running a million miles an hour.

- - - - -

Why is he telling you this?

Why did he text you?

Why did he use a period at the end of the sentence? What could that mean?

Why is his mom talking about me?

What if it is just a lie?

Could he be lying just to get some?

You shake your head, trying to get rid of all the bad thoughts.

It doesn’t work, though. You sigh and grab the phone again. You start to type back:

Cool

Then delete it. Sounds too harsh. You try again with:

Why?

No...that won’t work. You delete it. Maybe:

Tell her I say hi.

That will do. You hit the send button, and almost immediately regret it. You didn’t need to respond to him, you tell yourself.

My thoughts of regret are interrupted by a chime.

Carter Hart: She wants to get lunch with you.

You start to laugh out loud.

Lunch? With your ex’s mom?

You remember how sweet she was to you the only time you met her in person, and she sent you embarrassing pictures of Carter to tease him with.

You sigh and write back:

Sure, when is she in town?

- - - - -

You walk five blocks to a hot and trendy lunch spot known for its soups and salads.

The nerves are definitely kicking in.

Why does Carter’s mom want to get lunch with me?

When you arrive, you tell the hostess your name and she shows you to a cute two person table in a room filled with leafy plants as its decor. If you were here with a girlfriend of yours, you would most definitely be snapping pictures for your Instagram feed in her.

You thank the hostess as you sit down, and pick up the menu to gaze at it as you wait patiently.

The waiting only lasts five minutes. Shauna Hart walks into the restaurant and beelines over to you with the biggest smile on her face. You get up to greet her and she embraces you with a warm hug. You know the feeling of a Hart hug. It is iconic.

“How are you, dear?” She asks as you retreat back to your seat.

“I’m well, how about yourself?” You reply.

“I’m lovely. Thank you for coming with me. Have you been here before?”

You shake your head, “No, this was actually Carter’s recommendation.”

Her smile grows when you mention his name.

Before she can say anything, the waitress comes over to introduce herself and inform us on the specials of the day including homemade chicken noodle soup! Sounds fucking good.

She leaves to let us continue our process of figuring out what we want for lunch.

After a minute of silence, Shauna speaks up, “He misses you.”

You look up from your menu, but don’t know how to respond. The fastest thing you can think of is, “That is nice of him.”

The minute the words leave your mouth, you get a little embarrassed and start to blush.

The waitress comes back to take your orders. You order a cup of the chicken noodle soup and a BLT salad with fresh avocados. Shauna orders a chicken salad sandwich, which is advertised as one of their bestsellers.

After handing our waitress the menus, you and Shauna get into a conversation that, thankfully, ignores the elephant in the room, Carter.

The nervousness you felt early starts to disappear with time. Shauna is such a easy person to have a conversation with and makes you feel relaxed despite the odd situation the two of you are in.

Your food comes out to the two of you and it looks amazing. You both start to dive into your meals while continuing to chat in between bites.

Eventually, the conversation takes a turn. Shauna starts to share a story of Carter, without even realizing it. You listen, though, and the mood does not shift. It starts to feel normal and comfortable.

The story ends up with both of you nearly in tears.

You manage to get out, “Why was he so obsessed with that stuffed animal?” through your laughter.

- - - - -

At the end of lunch, Shauna insists on paying for your meal, too, and you thank her a million times. You check your phone and realize you’ve been at lunch for almost two hours. Time flies when you are having fun.

You say your goodbyes to Shauna, and go off your own ways.

On your walk home, the memories of you and Carter flood your thoughts. Your cheeks start to hurt from smiling at them. People probably think you are a lunatic walking through the streets of Philadelphia with a smile like the Cheshire Cat for no reason.

When you get home, you kick off your shoes, throw your purse on the couch, and walk into your room. You leap onto your bed and stare at the ceiling. You don’t know what to do.

Your phone starts to ring, but it isn’t your normal ring tone.

It’s Carter’s ringtone. You never changed it.

You rush over to the couch and rummage through your purse to pull out your phone just in time to press accept, “Hello?”

“How was lunch?”

You smile, “It was good. The food was really yummy, and it was so cute. Thank you for the recommendation.”

“Would you ever go back again?”

“Yeah, I think I would. I could get some uber cute Instagram pictures next time. Oh! And some of the drinks looked heavenly, but ya know I didn’t want to get drunk at noon at lunch with my ex’s mom,” you chuckle.

“Want to go tomorrow?”

“Yes, I would love to wha-....wait. What do you mean?”

You hear Carter let out a nervous giggle, “Do you want to go back there for lunch again tomorrow?”

“With you?”

“Yeah. With me.”

You pause before responding. It’s only been three months since he broke up with you. It still hurts you sometimes.

Would it be okay to go to lunch with him already?

What if he wants to get back together?

Was this his plan the whole time?

“Y/N? You still there?” The voice through your phone says.

“Yes, yes I’m still here, sorry. I was thinking.”

“Is it too soon?” He questions.

“No. I’ll go. Tomorrow at noon?”

“Yes, that works for me. I will see you there.”

- - - - -

The next morning, you wake up with a smile on your face, but the smile fades as the anxiety kicks in.

You have no clue what to wear.

What do you think he is going to wear?

Is he going to go all out?

What if you look more dressed up than him? Or what if he looks more dressed up than you?

To let out a little steam, you scream into your pillow.

“Ah, much better.” You can and hop out of bed.

You have three hours until the scheduled lunch date.

Wait is this a date?

You tell your brain to shut up, and get out of bed. You head out into your kitchen to make a cup of iced coffee. In your head, you start to formulate a to do list to complete before heading out.

- - - - -

Carter Hart: I’m early :) I’m at a table in the middle.

You slide your phone back into your purse as you walk out of your apartment building and onto the sidewalks of Philadelphia.

You try to hype yourself up during your walk. It doesn’t work very well, but gives you a little bit of confidence and a break from worrying.

Once you arrive at the restaurant, you enter and see Carter immediately. He looks nervous, which makes you feel a little at ease knowing you are not the only one.

You walk up to his table, and he stands up to give you a hug, “Hi, Y/N, you look good.”

The hug feels so familiar, and not because you were hugging his mom 24 hours ago. Your nose immediately recognizes his smell, too. The scent makes you feel warm and happy inside.

As the gentleman he is, Carter pulls your chair out for you to sit, which you thank him for of course.

He sits down, too, and the two of you look at each other to take in the moment and process what is going on.

You giggle, “I cannot believe this is actually happening.”

“I know.”

“Did your mom actually want to get lunch with me?”

He nods his head, “Yes, of course. She loved you the first time she met you.”

“She’s a really good person. I see where you get it from,” You say to him and smile. You notice he starts to blush a little as he looks down at his menu to avoid eye contact.

To change the subject, Carter speaks up: “Which drink are you getting?”

You are about to respond when the waitress comes up for our drink orders and the whole specials of the day ordeal. You are pleased when she says homemade chicken noodle soup is being served again today.

Since you are unsure how to pick a drink because they all look amazing, you ask the waitress to make whichever she likes the best. Carter only gets a glass of water due to the season being in full swing.

While you wait for your mystery drink, you ask Carter about the season so far and how everything is working out.

When the drink arrives, you slurp it down so fast you aren’t even sure what it was. The drink calms you down, and when you place your lunch order you ask for a new mystery drink to enjoy. Carter laughs while you order it, exactly like he would when you two were dating.

#carter hart #carter hart imagine #imagines #imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #hugheshoe imagine #philadephia flyers #flyers #prompt #writing #hockey writing #philadelphia flyers imagine

186 notes · View notes

jaycewrites-192000 · 3 years

Text

Growl: Chapter 6

Warnings: None

Tags: @theravencawsatmidnight @etroman @kaariqueen

Your P.O.V

I sat on my bed, phone in hand trying to think of what to say to Kyotani. I would type out a few words then immediately delete it, because it sounded really dumb or really desperate. "Why is this so hard?" I groaned. I could say whatever to Iwaizumi and Oikawa and it wouldn't bother me later on, but with Kyotani...I just really don't want to mess this up. I looked back down at my phone screen, took a deep breath and typed.

Me: Hey Kyotani, it's me Y/n, did you make it back home?

I held my phone to my chest, I didn't even want to see the speech bubble pop up. But when it did, and my phone dinged, my stomach did a backflip. I looked at my phone.

Kyotani: Yeah.

Yeah. Yeah? That was all he typed? I sighed slightly, well, he never was a man of many words.

Me: That's good. So, about coming over again. How does tomorrow night sound?

"Wow, way to be clingy." I mutter.

Kyotani: Sounds good.

I blinked a few times. "Whoa really? That worked?"

Me: Cool! I'll see you then.

Kyotani: See ya.

I let out a weak sigh and fell back onto my bed. Before I fell asleep I went back to the texts and changed Kyotani's name to:

🐶Mad Puppy🐶

He might have the personality of a feral wolf, but he could be as cute a little puppy. I smiled softly before drifting off to sleep.

Your P.O.V

Your alarm jerked your awake early the next day. With a groan you sat up and turned it off and checked your phone, you gasped when you saw what day it was. "It's Saturday!!" You cheered before flopping back down on your bed. It might be immature for you to act like a child when it came to the weekend, but Jesus did you hate waking up early to go to some boring classes for eight hours a day. Besides, you had a very important day ahead of you. Tonight was the night you went over to Kyotani's place for dinner. The grin on your face only grew wider. "It's like a date...only his mom is going to be there too..."

Speaking of moms, you needed to tell your mom you wouldn't be home early tonight. "Oh great. She's never going to get off my back over this." You sighed. You got up and changed out of your pajama's and into some comfy clothes before heading downstairs. Your mother was just on her way out it the door once you got to the bottom of the stairs. "Hey mom!" You called, making her stop. "Yes sweetie?" She turns to face you. "Um, is it cool if I go over to a friends for dinner tonight?"

"Hm? You mean Iwaizumi?" She asks. "No, not him."

"Oikawa?"

"No."

"...uh, then who?" She mutters.

"A new friend. Remember that intense guy I told you about? His name is Kyotani." You tell her. "Huh, I see. Well first I'm happy that you're making new friends sweetie." Your mother smiled. "But are you sure this "intense" guy is a friend? I just want to make sure you're not being bullied."

"I'm not being bullied. He is a pretty angry person at times but, he's actually really cool too." Your mother took a minute to think about it. "Alright, you can go. Do apologize to them for me. I won't be there."

"You won't?" Your mother shook her head. "I work late tonight. I won't be home until midnight. Which I expect you to be home before then, understand?" Your mother raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I promise. I'll tell them." Your mother pats your head and opened the front door. "Good, I'll see you later." She waves before leaving the house. "Of course you're working late again." You mutter as you walk into the living room. It never use to bother you as much before, but the more you thought about it and the more you watch her leave, the more it bothered you. She was always working, even during the weekends. You two hardly ever talked at times. You sat on the couch and decided to watch your favorite show to pass the time.

After a while, your phone dinged.

Shittykawa: Heeeeeey L/n-Chan! Wanna hang out? I'm free all day~😙

. . . . .

Shittykawa: Don't ignore me!😫

You: That was my answer.

Shittykawa: Your answer was pure silence?

You: Yeah. 😒

Shittykawa: Whatever.🙄 What are you up to?

You: Lazying about. Something you would know well huh, Lazykawa?

Shittykawa: So. Rude. What about later tonight?

You: Can't. I have plans.

Shittykawa: Liiiiike?

You: What's it to you?

Shittykawa: Come on! The least you can do is tell me!

You: Uggggh! I have dinner plans with Kyotani ok!?

. . .

You: Shittykawa?

Shittykawa: YOU HAVE A DATE WITH MAD DOG!?

You: It's not a date!!!

Shittykawa: Really? You? Him? Dinner??? Is it not clicking L/n-Chan?

You: His mom is going to be there, dumbass.

Shittykawa: I just can't believe it... You. And Mad Dog??? Of all people???

Me: What's so wrong with that?

Shittykawa: First, I can't believe you chose him over me 😭 Second, he's not exactly the ladies man. He's more the, scare and intimidate everyone he comes in contact with, man.

Me: Oh shut up Shittykawa. Kyotani's cool. Now if you'll excuse me, he's texting me right now. So I'm gonna get to that if you don't mind 😡 Besides, we all know you gay af.

You didn't bother to read what Oikawa texted next.

Mad Puppy: Hey. You still on for tonight?

You: Yeah totally! I'm really looking forwards to it.

Mad Puppy: Cool. My mom's been pestering me about it all fucking morning. It's like she's trying to play matchmaker. It's ducking creepy.

Your heart twinged a bit at that.

You: Oh yeah? Sorry to hear that.

Mad Puppy: It's whatever. Just telling you ahead of time, she's gonna keep this up the whole night. I just know she is. Anyway, I'll call you later ok? I gotta take Killer on a walk.

You: Ok. Talk to you later.

You bury your face in your hands. You had a feeling that tonight was going to take a lot out of you.

Later that night you stayed close by your phone, just waiting for that call from Kyotani. You had already gotten ready ahead of time, just so you would have to be in a rush later. You wore a short (color) dress with leggings.

(I know that must suck, but give me a break idk what outfit description would satisfy you all lol)

You didn't want to be super dressy but you didn't want to look like a bum in front of Kyotani and his mom. Speaking of, your phone lit up as the ringer went off. You scramble to pick up your phone before answering. "H-hello?"

"Hey, just checking in. You all ready to go?"

"Yep, I'm ready. I'll be over soon."

"Oh uh, actually...I'm on my way to your place....I didn't want you to walk alone at night."

You held back an "aw", you knew it would make him mad. "That's really nice of you Kyotani. Thank you."

"Yeah, I just figured you'd feel more comfortable if you were with someone. Anyway, I'll be there in a few."

"Ok. I'll see you then." You hung up and held your phone to your chest, the brightest smile on your face. Who knew Kyotani could be so nice? You never thought that you would have fallen for someone who looks pissed 24/7, but here you are.

Shortly after, Kyotani was knocking at your door. You took a deep breath and opened the door. "Hi." You say softly. "Hey." He responds. "You ready to go?" You nod and walk out the door before shutting it. "Oh yeah, forgot to mention, my sister will be there too." He tells you. "Really? What's she like?"

"She's a l bitch." Kyotani says bluntly. "Oh come on." You laugh. "Is she really that horrible?" Kyotani nods. "Yep." You just rolled your eyes. You didn't have a brother or sister, but you understood that siblings would pick fights and "resent" each other from time to time. "Is your dad gonna be there too?" Kyotani remained silent, his eyes narrowed. "No." Oh....You decided not to press for more questions, not yet at least. You didn't want to ruin the night by bringing up touchy subjects.

Before you knew it, you were at his home. Kyotani knocked on the door, which was immediately answered by his mom and Killer, who was barking and jumping on you. "Oh, look at you Y/n! You look stunning! Doesn't she Kentaro?" His mom gushed. Kyotani nods. "Come on in! Dinner is just about ready!" You thanked her before stepping inside. At the table was a girl with black hair and the same yellow eyes as Kyotani sat. She wasn't really paying attention to anything or anyone, aside from her phone, which she tapped away on. "Natsuki, we have a guest. Put that thing down for once!" Her mom says as she walks to the stove. Natsuki sighs heavily and puts her phone down. "Hey." She mutters. "You my dumb little brother's girlfriend or something?" You and Kyotani's faces turn red.

"Shut your trap, Natsuki!" Kyotani growls. "She's way too pretty for you, mutt." She smirks. "I said shut it!"

"Both of you shut up!" Their mother yells. "Sorry about my two idiots Y/n." She smiles. You just wave it off. "Uh, don't worry about it." Kyotani and Natsuki's mother set down a very delicious meal on the table. Everyone sat down and gave thanks for the meal before digging in. "Wow. This is really good!" You say as you take another bite. Kaori smiles warmly. "I'm glad you like it. You should take some home for your family. I may have gotten carried away and made a little too much. I was just so surprised that my son brought over such a sweet and beautiful young lady!" Kyōtani grumbles a curse under his curse. Your face warmed up. "I'm kinda surprised myself." You admit.

"Same here. Ken has always been weird. Never thought girls would be interested in him." Natsuki says bluntly. "Tsk. And I never thought guys would be into you, guess I was right, huh?" Kyotani counters. The two siblings were caught in a glare off with each other. "I say cut it out, both of you!" Kaori hissed.

The rest of the night was filled with conversations about school, and marriage, much to Kyotani's dismay, and just causal convo. There were more compliments about how nice and cute you were from his mom, and some questions from his sister for you like "so how much did my brother pay you to hang out with him?". They had to be one of the most chaotic family you've met, but you did enjoy their company. It was getting late, time for you to head home. Once again, Kyotani walked you home. "Thanks again." You smile softly. "Yeah, sorry about my mom and sister. Must have been exhausting." You shook your head. "They were great. I had a really good time tonight. Make sure you get back home safe ok?" Kyotani nods. "See ya." He turned ad walked away. You wave before walking inside your home. Your mother still wasn't home, you decided to head up stairs and catch up on your favorite anime.

While watching, your phone dinged. You looked down to see a text from Kyotani.

🐶Mad Puppy🐶 I had a good time too. Night

You smiled and texted back.

You Good night 😊

Previous | Next

#kyotani kentaro x reader #kyotani kentaro #haikyuu!!#haikyuu kyoutani #haikyuu mad dog #mad dog

25 notes · View notes

ace-in-a-shopping-cart · 3 years

Text

Detroit Evolution Character Studies.

If you haven’t seen the absolutely lovely Reed900 fan film Detroit Evolution by @/octopunkmedia, I highly recommend it. (This also contains spoilers for it so watch before reading this.) I’m not done with these character studies as I plan to do one more for both characters.

Essentially, these are scenes taken directly from the film where I wrote it out, action, words, and all, as well as tried to capture what I thought they would be feeling/thinking in those moments as a way of learning to write the character’s voices (or my version of them). Word Count: 2,345 TW: Cursing, blood/ injury/ death mention, brief mention of food.

Nines

Timestamp: 11:22

He carried the full coffee mug from the break room to Gavin’s desk, a spring in his steady step. Placing the mug down, he looked at Gavin, a challenge in his eyes.

Gavin looked up from his phone. “Thank god.”

Nines held back a sigh. “I hate you.”

“You love me.” Gavin sassed back.

Nines pushed at Gavin’s feet that were propped up on the desk. “Move your feet.” He listened to the small sound of surprise that came from the human and sat where the feet had been, waiting for Gavin to stop spinning. “Have you been reviewing the case?” He glanced at the inactive computer screen.

Gavin sat straighter in the chair and leaned forward. “You know me. When do I stop?” He pulled up the case file on his computer. “Our victim’s an AC900, right? That happens to be a model designed for athletics and endurance. So, her thirium pump is one of the most valuable out there.”

Nines tilted his head. “You think the killer could have black market motivations?”

“You can’t rule it out. Not with how advanced that part is. So, once I made that genius deduction, I went through a list of my contacts in the android parts market and they got back to me with some common drop sites for black market deals.”

Nines was wary of where this was going, his LED circling to yellow. “Contacts? There are black market dealers who collude with the DPD?”

Gavin sat back, posture relaxed. “They give me intel, I stay off their back.”

“That doesn’t seem legal.” it defied his sense of logic to work with criminals to catch other criminals, even if the method had some merit.

Gavin spun his chair to face him, voice becoming defensive. “Okay, Nines. Sometimes you gotta bend the rules if you want to catch a bigger fuckin’ fish, alright? I know it’s not your protocol or whatever but, that’s why you got me.” He took a sip of his coffee, looking pleased with himself.

Nines leaned on his hand. “How would I ever succeed without your obstinance and rule breaking?” Sarcasm was something he’d mastered soon after deviating and used often with Gavin.

Gavin set his mug down, crossing his hands over his lap. “Yeah, you got a real funny way of saying ‘experience and wisdom’.”

“Wisdom?” Nines almost scoffed. “Gavin, I have a database in my brain containing over two hundred thousand words in the English language and I believe you found the one that least applies to yourself.”

Gavin looked up at him. “Shuuuut the fuck up.” He reached forward to tap his keyboard, bringing their attention back to the case. “Look, if we can intercept some dealers and bring ‘em in, we’ll find out if our victim’s thirium pump has been making the rounds. That could lead us straight to the killer.” He looked at Nines for his opinion.

Nines hummed. “It’s a good start, but waiting for a dealer to cross our path could mean it could take weeks to find a lead.” His LED went to blue as he thought it over.

“Thought of that too, smartass. There are definitely some sites where black market activity is hot.” He pointed at the screen and Nines turned to look. “These apartments out in Ferndale and Slide Docks-” he moved to point at another part of the map on the screen. “-here.”

Nines considered the information and screen. “We’ll need to split up to cover both.”

“Nah, you won’t have to miss me.” He gestured to the new detective with his mug. “We’ll get Chris on one of them while we go to the other.”

Nines looked at Chris, who seemed to have a lot on his mind. “He’s been quiet, since Jericho.”

Gavin busied himself with gathering his things. “Okay. Maybe work will take his mind off of it.”

Nines hummed, watching him. “Burying troubles in work is your usual approach.”

Gavin stood and rounded his chair, blowing a kiss to Nines sarcastically. Nines turned his head in time to notice Gavin flip him off behind Nines’ back. He smiled at the antics and followed the detective.

Nines

Timestamp: 54:00

‘I need you to come back to me, Nines.’

Nines could hear Gavin, even as he was trying to search every line of his code for a way to fix this corruption.

‘You are my partner. Come back to me, Nines.’

Nines heard a glitch in the garden before Gavin’s voice spoke again, closer this time, different. “Hey, tin can.”

He looked up to see his simulation of Gavin standing there. Calling his name, Nines ran over to him. He said his name again as he tried to hold him, only to be met with loose pixels and glitching code. He took a step back, anger in his voice. “What did she do to you?”

Gavin’s voice was distorted and his pixels were out of sync. “Code’s all buggy from Ada. You gotta delete me. Delete all of this, start from scratch.”

“Delete it?” Nines felt panic rise in him at that. “No, I can’t do that. This is where I process everything. I can’t just erase it.”

“You can rebuild another one after.” Gavin looked up into the trees. “Doesn’t even have to be a garden. Hell, make it a theme park, I don’t know.” He looked back at Nines.

“I can’t rebuild you.” His voice softened. Nines had spent pain-staking hours programming Gavin’s code and making him as close to the real thing as possible and now he was being told to delete it all? He wanted nothing more than to just hold Gavin.

“Look. You don’t have to give a shit about me. It’s all just fucking fantasy, Nines. You got the real thing up there. And the only way to get back there is to let go of all of this.”

‘Come back to me, Nines.’

The Gavin standing before him glitched again and Nines nodded slightly. “Okay.” He moved away, unable to look at him as he did this.

‘I need you. I need you to come back to me, Nines.’

With the real Gavin’s voice echoing in his ears, Nines carefully and ruthlessly tore down every line of code he had to. Thoughts of the past few days, images of his friends and Gavin, tumbled through his mind as he destroyed his sanctuary, the place he went to relax and to process and feel safe. A place that had been tainted by Ada’s forced entrance.

As soon as the last zero was deleted, Nines regained full control of himself.

Gavin

Timestamp: 24:30

Gavin grunted as another fist connected with his face, breaking his nose. Faintly he heard a voice call his name. A hand reached out but instead of a punch- He jolted awake, hands reaching to fight off his attacker, whoever's hands were now on his shoulders, fighting him back. Nines’ voice broke through the fog of sleep and Gavin stared at him, calming down just a bit as he found one of Nines’ hands on his chest, the other holding his right wrist gently. Nines gave one more, comforting, “”it’s not real, you’re safe,” before releasing Gavin and standing up.

Gavin shifted, moving to sit up against his headboard as he tried to calm his breathing. He shifted the pillows behind him, all too aware of Nines’ concerned gaze.

When his breathing was slower, Gavin spoke. “What- What’re you still doing here?” He knew Nines had mentioned reviewing case files but thought he would have left, bored of Gavin. Most did.

“I stayed to review our case files.” Nines’ voice was soft, as if Gavin were a deer that would startle at a too-loud sound. “I heard you struggling.” He moved away from the bed a step or two. “I’ll go get you some water.”

Gavin shifted positions, shaking his head. “No, no, no, I”m fine. I’m fine.” If he repeated it enough, maybe he’d believe it himself. He cursed a few times, softly, as he tried to find a comfortable position.

Nines sat back down on the edge of the bed. Gavin cursed again, the loudest sound in the room being his still heavy breathing. He leaned his head back against the wall, too exhausted to care. “Guess now you know why I don’t sleep.”

“What were you dreaming about?” Gavin was grateful for the lack of judgement in Nines’ voice.

Gavin dropped his head down, shaking it as he stared at his sheets. “Nothing. I don’t even remember.” Not a complete lie, it was reduced to fear and feelings and flashes of memory now, so distorted from what it once was. “Probably bore you, if I did.”

There was a small smile in Nines’ voice, still soft but now holding a note of affection. “Learning more about you would never bore me, Gavin.” Gavin didn’t quite believe him and Nines kept talking. “Would you like me to stay with you? Research shows that physical touch is good for humans, it releases serotonin which has a calming effect-”

Gavin’s skin crawled at the thought of touch and he began protesting as Nines continued. “-I think that-” Nines heard his protests and stopped.

“No.” Gavin shook his head, breathing almost under control. “I’ll take my chances with the cat.”

“Okay.” Nines stood. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” He turned and began to walk to the door.

Before Nines could reach it, Gavin spoke. “It was about this one night.” He looked up at Nines, wondering if the android knew the level of trust Gavin was showing. “It just makes me feel like I’m back there.”

He paused as Nines came back to sit on the side of the bed where he’d been before.

He took a deep breath. “I was a dumb kid. Dropped out of high school, fell in with some shitheads dealing red ice for a little while. I just . . . I just couldn’t do it. I stopped. And they fucked me up, kicked me out. I’m wandering around the streets of Detroit, bloodied to shit, nowhere to go. Fowler found me. He was on patrol. He just, put me in his car, drove me to a diner. Bought me coffee. Told me I could intern at the DPD for a little while. Have something to do, you know.”

Nines listened patiently, only commenting at the end. “Sounds like a happy ending. Why is it a nightmare?”

Gavin’s eyes turned haunted. “‘Cause every time it replays in my head, he doesn’t show. And I just die out there. Bleeding in the fucking snow and no one cares.”

Nines stood, looking like he was prepared to go back to the living room. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you?”

Gavin looked up at him, his face illuminated by the light of the window, and didn’t trust himself to speak. Instead, he just slid over and hoped he understood.

Nines did, his LED glowing yellow in the dark room as he moved to sit where Gavin had been. He gingerly turned so his cloth-covered back was toward Gavin. The human appreciated the gesture, feeling comfortable and vulnerable enough to extend his hand, palm up, to Nines. The android carefully took it, his synthetic skin retracting but Gavin brushed that off as him offering less skinship.

Gavin’s breathing stuttered slightly but he slowly placed his head on Nines’ shoulder blade and shoulder. He felt Nines rest his head on Gavin’s, the android’s thumb running over the back of the human’s hand.

“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll have you scrapped for parts.” There was no bite to Gavin’s words.

Nines shook his head. “Empty promises,” he said, a smile in his voice.

Gavin

Timestamp: 57:19

“I think I can help with that.” Nines’ voice came from the doorway.

Chris called his name while Gavin looked on in disbelief. Tina stood by Nines, Gavin was vaguely aware of her trying to get Chris to leave Gavin and Nines alone but he only had eyes for the android.

Nines stepped into the room as the two left. “Distracting yourself with work at two A.M.? Now I know you missed me.”

Gavin’s shock wore off at the playful banter. “You undead asshole. How did you wake up?”

They both approached, almost meeting in the middle of the room, as Nines spoke. “I heard you. Your voice broke through.”

Gavin backed up a few steps even as Nines continued advancing. “Goddammit. You mean you- you- you heard everything I said?”

Nines smiled. “Every word. A force you can’t live without?”

“I . . . hate you.” There was barely any force in his words.

Nines finally reached him, that soft smile still on his face as understanding shone in his eyes. “You love me.”

Gavin looked up at him and their eyes met. He looked down to see Nines’ skin retract on his hand, gently taking it into his own hands. Nines’ other hand came up to cup Gavin’s cheek and draw his gaze back to his face. Gavin closed his eyes, getting used to such tender touches, before opening them and looking at Nines. Then, they were kissing, both putting the emotions they couldn’t put to words into it.

When they broke apart, Gavin panted for a moment before speaking. “What dipshit programmed you to do that?”

Nines laughed, sounding just as out of breath as Gavin felt. “I’m the most advanced android ever made, detective.”

Gavin threw his head back dramatically, Nines’ hand sliding down to his neck. “Oh, you are such a fucking prick.”

“Takes one to know one.” Nines snarked back.

Gavin sniffed, finally noticing what Nines was wearing. “This is my jacket?”

“Yeah, you left it at CyberLife. They didn’t keep my clothes.” He laughed and looked around. “I see you’ve been making progress without me.”

“Yeah, uh. Guess we’ve got some catching up to do.”

Nines didn’t respond, simply leaned down for another kiss.

#ace writes #Character Study #rk900 nines #gavin reed #detroit evolution #I picked these specific scenes for reasons I'm happy to talk about #that time stamp might be a bit weird as it keeps bringing it back to about 3/4 of the way through so watch out for that #I'm too much of a coward to actually tag octopunk media but I still wanted to give credit as this is not entirely my writing

40 notes · View notes

jessbakescakes · 3 years

Text

@twwobsessed asked for either 89. I noticed or 90. you can tell me anything from this post..

I accidentally deleted the ask, sorry!

This one spans across the series... it also got way longer than I anticipated. Oops?

“Want some chips?”

Donna looks to her left to find Josh holding out a bag of barbecue potato chips he insisted on getting from the store across the street before they loaded up the bus to South Carolina. “Thanks,” she says, taking a couple from the bag.

“Take as many as you want. It’ll probably be a little bit before we can stop to get something to eat, and we didn’t get a chance to eat lunch.” He places the bag between them, but doesn’t so much as reach for the chips again.

~*~

“Pizza’s here!” CJ announces, dropping several pizza boxes on the table in the center of the room.

Josh tosses his pen on his notepad. “What did you get? I’ll grab it for you.”

Donna looks up from her note cards. “Oh, no, I didn’t get anything.”

“What? Why?”

She thinks back to the intern who came around asking for everyone’s orders about an hour ago, and the excuse she gave him. The Massachusetts Democratic Party catered a lunch with a sandwich spread; she told the intern that she was still full from lunch, but Josh would see right through that. He sat right next to her while she ate half a turkey sub and a just-this-side-of-stale oatmeal raisin cookie before they were ready to head to their next meeting.

The truth, of course, is that she’s made a pretty big dent in her already modest savings account since rejoining the campaign. Her parents, in an attempt to impart some financial wisdom upon her during her teen years, had declared that half of each paycheck from whatever after school or summer job she held at the time was to be deposited into a savings account. She managed to make it all this time without having to dip into it; selling her car and sleeping on the floor had made it easier to stretch her limited budget. But it won’t last forever.

Before she can answer, CJ interrupts, calling out everyone’s orders. “Looks like we have some breadsticks on top, here, and some wings… here’s a cheese pizza for Kevin McCallister over there,” CJ says, motioning toward Josh as she opens the box, places it beside the stack, then closes the lid.

“Hey now, Donna and I are splitting this pizza, I wanted to make her feel at home,” Josh retorts, grabbing a plate and handing it to Donna before pulling two slices of pizza out of the box CJ just abandoned.

Donna turns to Josh. “I’m fine, Josh, really.”

“Donna,” he says, grabbing her hand and pulling her up from her seat.

“I don’t want to eat your food.” Josh gives her a pointed look, and she lets out a sigh. “How much do I owe you?”

Josh laughs. “What’s mine is yours, Donnatella.” He places his hand at the small of her back and ushers her toward the pizza box. “Eat.”

~*~

They manage to find a 24 hour diner in Little Rock two weeks before the convention. When their server approaches, everyone’s either staring blankly at their menus or engaged in subdued conversation. They were already tired, but they were pulling hours even longer than normal due to what should have been a minor PR snafu turned media beast that just wouldn’t die.

Josh had gotten Leo to agree to bring Donna on as a salaried member of the campaign once the Governor was no longer the presumptive nominee, but the official nominee; all Donna needed to do was make her last few dollars stretch as far as possible for just a little longer. Her stomach growls loudly as the server moves next to Josh.

“I’ll have the chicken and waffles,” Josh starts, handing the server his menu and sliding Donna’s toward him. “She’ll have an omelette with spinach and feta.”

By the time she opens her mouth to protest, the server’s gone and Josh is listening intently to whatever it is Sam is saying to his left.

~*~

“I’m just saying,” Josh starts, putting his half-eaten box of Chinese food on the table in the Mural Room, “if Thompson thinks Braun and Miller will pull out, we need to plan for that now.”

“You really think they’ll do that?” Toby asks.

Josh nudges the container toward Donna. “I do. At least, that’s what Braun was hinting at earlier. I don’t know what the hell that guy’s up to; he’s harder to read than any woman I’ve ever dated.”

Donna reaches for the food and peeks inside, noticing that it’s honey garlic chicken - her favorite.

~*~

“I think you’re not giving theoretical physics enough of a chance,” Josh insists. “I think you have some weird, unfair bias against it.”

Donna holds out her hand and takes the wrapper to Josh’s chicken sandwich. “Well, considering physics was the only class I ever came close to failing, I think my biases are perfectly fair.”

Josh laughs. “Donna Moss almost failed a class?”

“I stayed every day after school for a month and pulled it up to an A minus. But for a little while there I was in the mid-C range.”

“Painfully average,” Josh teases.

“Shut up and eat your salad,” Donna sighs.

“I’m full, you can have it.”

Donna rolls her eyes. “Josh, you ordered this salad. You said you wanted this salad, and I didn’t question you…”

“You’re about to go back to work, and I know you won’t have time to stop and grab something for another… seven, eight hours? Eat the damn salad.”

~*~

The Hawk and Dove is nearly empty; it’s just CJ, Sam, Donna, Charlie, and Josh in the late hours of the snowy evening.

“Toby was mentioning that earlier,” CJ says. “I don’t buy it.”

Donna pulls Josh’s untouched tray of cheese fries toward her and begins to eat, expecting a grumble or a whine from him. It never comes.

~*~

She’s not invited to this particular State Dinner. She could have gone home an hour ago, but she decided to take advantage of the rare opportunity to catch up on some filing while Josh wasn’t around.

Donna works through the last stack of files and returns to her desk to find two plates full of hors d'oeuvres.

~*~

Donna opens her eyes and stretches as much as the hospital bed will allow. Josh hears her stir and stands up from his chair. “Hey,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

“Been better,” she says, her voice a little hoarse.

“They brought you some breakfast. Looks like you’ve got some fruit and eggs. They’re probably a little cold by now, though. You hungry?”

“A little, yeah.”

Josh extends his hand and offers her a small package of mini muffins. “Don’t ask me how this works, but apparently there’s a vending machine down the hall that has some American snacks in it. I thought these would be chocolate chip, but… they’re blueberry.”

She takes the package and notices that the word blueberry is written in bold, blue font across the front, directly underneath the logo. He hasn’t eaten any of them.

~*~

“If anyone asks, the Congressman won’t be commenting on the situation with Senator Stephens,” Lou says. “Donna, do your best to make sure they don’t ask.”

Donna nods. She walks back to her seat to find a small bag of chocolate covered pretzels sitting in the chair. She looks across the room at Josh, staring at an electoral map, eating a bag of the same pretzels. He turns to grab a marker and makes eye contact with her from across the room.

Donna’s stomach nearly ties itself in knots when he gives her a small smile before returning to the board.

~*~

Josh takes his seat next to Donna, leaning in for a kiss. “Hi.”

“Hey,” she says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Everything okay?”

He nods. “Yeah. I was just getting the ‘don’t you dare hurt her’ talk from the President.”

“Which one?” Donna asks, taking a sip of champagne.

“Either. Both. They both like you better than me, anyway, does it really matter?”

Donna laughs. “No, I guess it doesn’t.”

Josh looks down at his empty plate, then at Donna. “You ate my slice of cake?” He’s saying it in a tone of incredulity, but he’s grinning.

She shrugs. “You left it; I assumed you didn’t want it.”

“Donna,” Josh whines. “I was going to eat that.”

“There’s still plenty left,” Donna reassures him. “Don’t worry. You can get another slice.”

“Why, so you can eat that one, too?” Josh sighs. “At what point did you start stealing my food, anyway?”

Donna moves her arm to rest on Josh’s chair. “Probably around the time I noticed that even though I was on salary, you still continued to feed me. I don’t think I ever thanked you for that, by the way.”

Josh turns to face her. “Wait, you knew?”

“Of course I knew, Josh,” Donna says. “It was your way of taking care of me. It��s really thoughtful, actually. One of the many reasons I fell in love with you.”

She looks at him for a moment, studying the smirk on his face. She’s still in awe that she gets to call this man her husband - this incredibly caring, ridiculously sweet, wonderful man married her.

“I’m going to start putting my name on my leftovers,” Josh declares

“I’ll just eat them anyway,” Donna says, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Yeah. You will.”

#josh x donna #my fics

40 notes · View notes

domesticblisss · 3 years

Text

4 in the Morning | Don’t Speak PT.03

Timothy Thatcher x Female Reader (Mentioned Female Reader x Cash Wheeler) Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 778 Warnings: Tiny tiny bit of angst, fluff, mentions of smut. Inspired by Gwen Stefani’s “4 in the morning” Pt.01 | Pt.02

Toss and turn. It is 4 a.m and her night got summed up in a game of toss and turn. The events of past 24 hours kept replaying on her mind and how she should be getting up in a couple of hours to go and get ready for her wedding day. She gives up and picks up her phone, opening WhatsApp and scrolling back to their conversation.

Toss and turn. It is 4 a.m and his night got summed up in a game of toss and turn. Oney had showed him the beautiful kraft paper card, the cream pearly wax seal holding a single Baby’s Breath branch on the envelope’s opening. Her wedding is about to happen in a few hours and there’s nothing else he could do anymore except wish her happiness.

Reviving his old, lost instagram account, he looks for her profile, scrolling endlessly and marvels at her beauty, thinking about what a stunning bride she would be and how he envies Cash for being the one to do it. He notices how far back he went and sees that she hadn’t deleted the pictures of them together. His phone buzzes as a WhatsApp notification appears with her name on it. All he can think about is did he accidentally like one of her pictures. He doesn’t waste any more time and finally opens it, a thirty second audio staring back at him.

“Hi, Tim. You are probably asleep by now... I– I don’t even know why I’m sending this, but I just... fuck I miss you. I really liked seeing you that day at Oney’s. I don’t know where I’m going with this... I should probably delete it. I’m sorry. I hope you’re happy. Bye.”

He replays it a couple times, the tone of her voice worrying him. He looks up to her contact name and sees that she is online and on impulse, he calls her.

It rings twice before she picks up.

“Hey dove, what’s up? Is everything ok?”

“Hi, Tim. Everything is fine.” her voice is small, hoarse, like she had been crying.

He sighs. “I know you, I know that voice. Did anything happen with the wedding?”

“The wedding...” she laughs.

“Dove, c’mon, talk to me. What happened?”

“I called it off, Tim. I called it off yesterday. Cancelled the whole thing.”

“Did Cash do anything?”

“No. Cash is the nicest person ever, he was actually pretty understanding.”

“So what was i–“

“He’s not you, Tim!” she interrupted. “I can’t see myself doing this with anyone but you. I thought I could go through with it but then I saw you that day at Oney’s and I just... Fuck I miss you so much, I need you, I–“

“Where are you?”

“My old place, why?”

“I’ll be there in 20.”

The longest 20 minutes of their lives. She kept pacing around, almost carving a hole on the path between her living and her door. All traffic lights between his and hers apartments were red, making him stop more than necessary.

She sprinted as she heard his characteristic knock on the door, opening it as fast as she could and being met with the sweetest, most beautiful pair of brown eyes.

“Hi.”

The two-letter word was the only one exchanged between them, silently agreeing on not wasting anymore time, both simultaneously going in for the kiss. Tim gently lifted her up, her legs attaching themselves on his waist and her hands going straight to his hair, pulling him even closer.

The kiss tasted bittersweet, washing away the longing that grew intensely each day they spent away from the other.

He sat down on the couch with her on his lap, his hands roaming freely around her body as he broke the kiss.

Foreheads touching, giggles coming from both parts, two soulmates finding each other once again.

“I’m sorry I was such a prick to you, dove.” Tim spoke first, gently caressing the head she laid on his shoulder.

“It’s fine, love. I’ve forgiven you ages ago.”

“No, c’mon, look at me.” he waited for her to get up and look at him. “I was a complete asshole for how I acted, and I am deeply sorry for it. I could go on saying how it was new to me and that I was scared, which is the truth, but it still isn’t an excuse. I regret all the pain I caused you, and I love you more than anything.”

“I love you too, more than anything.”

They stayed on each other’s arms for hours, feeling the other’s presences, catching up, kissing, making love.

It is dawn, Tim is lying face down on her fluffy carpet while she peppers kisses down his naked back, when a thought ran through his head.

“Did you cancel everything?”

“What do you mean?” she asks confused.

“Did you cancel everything from the wedding? Catering, venue, whatever you guys had going on.”

She sat up, staring at him unsure of what he had in mind. “Well, everything is cancelled except the catering and some of the decoration. Why?”

He was the one to sit up this time, and asked her “Do you wanna get married?”

“What? Tim, are you serious?”

“Of course! We set up everything on the backyard, call up our five friends and our parents. Drew can officiate it, Oney can pretend he knows how to sing. What do you say?”

“Yes!”

→

#wwe imagine #nxt imagine #timothy thatcher #timothy thatcher x reader #timothy thatcher imagine #wrestling imagine #DB Writes

16 notes · View notes

spencerspecifics · 4 years

Note

Hey, can I request something with moreid? maybe their first official date?

Hi! Thanks so much for your request :) Apologies as it took a bit (work and school do b kicking my ass tho.) here is my oneshot drabble of their first date! No TW needed, but this does get very angsty!

———————————————————————

Diner Date

———————————————————————

The diner was a small local joint, the only one open 24/7. That’s how they found themselves there, at 12:42 a.m. After solving their latest case in St.Helens (a small town on the outskirts of Portland), Spencer had mentioned he was hungry- though the rest of the team wasn’t in the mood to go get food, they’d rather pass out in their respective hotel rooms.

Spencer, however, had forgotten to eat lunch that day. So he was starving, and he didn’t care if he had to make the trek to a nearby restaurant alone or not- though he’d rather not. If he could, he would ignore his hunger as a whole and get to his hotel room, too- he was just as tired as everyone else. And he wasn’t a fan of venturing out to get food. It was dark and cold, and he’d rather have someone else’s company, instead of sitting at a table alone. But he wasn’t about to ask- the entire team was exhausted, just like him, Rossi and Dave had made their way up to their rooms first, no time for small talk. J.J. and Prentiss stayed behind to speak for a minute in the hotel lobby, before promptly doing the same.

It was just him and Derek in the lobby of the Best Western after a moment, Spencer didn’t mind. He liked Derek’s company. “You heading up?” Derek asked him, already glancing to the elevators that J.J. and Prentiss had disappeared into moments earlier, as if he wanted to desperately head that way, too.

Spencer shook his head, “No- I’m hungry, I’m gonna go find somewhere to get some food.” “Cool, I’ll come with.” Derek spoke easily, as if he wasn’t one missed step away from passing out right there in front of him. Spencer fidgeted with his messenger bags strap that sat across his shoulder. “You don’t have to come with me, you should get some rest.” He said as he looked to the elevator doors as some sort of signal that it really was okay for Derek to go, he didn’t owe him anything.

Derek shook his head, “No way, man. C’mon, let’s go. It’s way too late to go anywhere alone.”

That’s how they found themselves in the diner at an ungodly hour of the night. The diner itself was small, reserved, their small neon sign that said ‘open’ flickered on and off at random. The only other people there were the waitress that had seated the two, the cook in the back; and an old man at the counter top bar, sipping away on a mug of coffee.

They had been seated in a simple booth by the front window, giving them a view of the empty street ahead that was illuminated by a few nearby streetlights. Spencer leaned back once he made contact with the booths seat, practically melting into the plastic. It wasn’t comfortable, but he was tired. And the fatigue from the stress of the day had finally caught up with him.

Derek looked fondly at him for only a second, before forcing himself to look down at the laminated menu in front of him. Now wasn’t the time to be so obviously crushing on his friend, though it was painfully obvious how he felt- and it had been for while. Even Hotchner realized something was up after a bit, thankfully he had said nothing besides a series of strong glances occasionally when Derek and Spencer were a bit too close, a bit too friendly. His way of saying “focus on the case, not on him”. And Spencer seemed oblivious as ever. Totally unaware of how infatuated Derek was with him. Derek was grateful, he wouldn’t know what to do if Spencer knew, he would probably hide in shame for the rest of his life- have Garcia delete him from every database ever and have him start over from scratch.

Okay, that’s a tad bit too dramatic for Derek’s taste. But still, he wouldn’t know what to do if Spencer knew. It would rock the foundation of their relationship to the core, for better or for worse, Derek didn’t want to venture to find out. He wanted to keep things the same. He was happy to just be with Spencer whenever, at work in the bullpen, on their shared off time, and right now; at this old small town diner.

“You tired?” Derek asked after a beat of silence, looking up to see Spencer resting his head on one of his arms that he had propped up onto the table, the other was resting on the table completely, fingers fidgeting with the sleeve of his navy blue cardigan.

“Yeah, a little.” Spencer said sleepily, sitting up a bit straighter as the waitress made her way by to take their orders.

The waitress was an older woman, black hair pinned up in a bun with heavy eyeliner rimmed around her eyes and lipstick done in a similar fashion. Her nametag simply read as ‘Sue’.

“What can I get you boys?” She asked them casually, she didn’t seem tired or annoyed with their presence. She almost seemed upbeat, like they had come in during her morning shift instead of the late night hour they had arrived at.

“Coffee, please.” Spencer said, giving her brief eye contact before looking back down at the menu. Sue turned to look at Derek expectantly, “Uh- water for me, thanks.” He said. She just nodded, walking off towards the kitchen to fulfill their simple order.

“Coffee?” Derek asked Spencer once she was out of earshot, “Hm?” Spencer mumbled in response, still scanning the menu. Derek knew that Spencer didn’t need to continue reading by that point, the kid was a speed reading demon. Spencer was just trying to keep himself awake by reading the words on the menu in front of him over and over again.

“You sure it’s a good idea to be drinking coffee at,” Derek stopped to look down at the watch on his wrist, “12:42 in the morning?” Spencer just shrugged as he looked up to make eye contact with Derek, who was as equally tired. “I’ll still be able to sleep.” Derek scoffed lightly, like hell spencer would be able to. It usually took him a while to sleep anyways, as evident by the eye bags that always seemed apparent on the mans face.

“You should take better care of yourself.” Derek said simply, not even realizing the full affect of his words. It was just the main thought in his head that had always stuck with him. Spencer always put other things before him. Whether it be the case they were working on, his coworkers, or even his mom. Spencer needed to learn that he was equally as important as all of the above.

Spencer’s weary eyes snapped back up to Derek’s at an almost record speed, he was surprised. He didn’t expect that coming from Derek, especially not now. Spencer’s mind was tangled in this moment, he was tired, drained, and taken aback by what Derek said. So when he spoke, it wasn’t eloquent, it wasn’t put together. It was one simple word; “Why?”

Derek returned his question with a simple glance of confusion, a look of; ‘are you serious?’ He was about to speak when Sue returned, a cup of water in one hand, and a mug of coffee in the other. She sent them down in front of their respective people before pulling out her notepad to take their orders, “Are ya ready to order?”

“Actually, can we have a minute more?” Derek asked her, before Spencer had a chance to change the topic of conversation to greasy diner food orders. Sue nodded casually, tucking her notepad back away into her apron. “Sure, holler me back when you’re ready.” She sauntered back off, to behind the countertop bar, to attend to the old man who needed a refill on his coffee.

Spencer didn’t say anything, instead turning his attention to look out the window onto the vacant and dark street. He didn’t like how it looked, he didn’t like the dark. But he stayed looking out, because he wasn’t sure what was in store for him if he was to look back to Derek and his soft, concerned gaze.

“You need to take better care of yourself because we need you here, we don’t want you burning out.” Derek told him easily, holding the phrase ‘I need you here’ back in his throat. It wasn’t right to say. “You can find ten other individuals just like me in the academy, who are probably better in lots of ways.” Spencer said in his famous ‘matter of fact’ tone. Derek let that go in one ear and out the other, why was Spencer being like this?

“If they’re not you, they’re not better.” Derek replied easily, Spencer didn’t reply, turning from looking out the window to looking to the mug of coffee in front of him. He grabbed three sugar packets from the nearby container sat at the end of their table, ripping them open one by one and pouring the sugar in methodically.

“What’s going on?” Derek asked, voice quieter than it had been before. Spencer crumpled the empty sugar packet that was still between his fingers.

“It just...” Spencer muttered, before grabbing the spoon that came with his drink to stir. He stayed quiet while he worked on the task. He finished, putting the spoon down slowly, before looking back at Derek, whose gaze was laced with concern.

“It gets tiring. Day in, day out. This job.” Spencer explained simply. It was true, the job took a toll on him, and on everyone on the team. They all had their moments of weakness, of anxiety, of pain, of pure fatigue. Derek understood it all too well.

“Are you thinking of hanging it up?” Derek asked Spencer curiously. Spencer shook his head as he dropped the crumpled packet onto the table, switching it for his drink. He raised his head off his hand finally as he started drinking his coffee.

“No. I can’t. This is all I have.” Spencer said, setting his free hand down on the table, the other one was still laced around the handle of his mug. Derek looked down at the hand resting freely on the table.

What he wouldn’t give to grab it, hold onto it and tell Spencer he had so much more than just the job. He had a family. He had the entire teams adoration and love. He had them. He especially had Derek.

“You know you have more than just the work.” Derek said blankly, he was pointing out the obvious. And he knew Spencer knew that. Spencer sighed, a sign of defeat as he raised his coffee cup back up to his lips. He took a long draw before responding, “I know.. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m in this mood. Sometimes it’s just...”

“Too much?” Derek provided an answer, Spencer nodded. “Yeah, too much. I’m sorry.” He apologized, unsure of what else he could say. Derek just gave him a soft, small smile, before doing what his mind had told him to do, he rested his hand on top of Spencer’s. “It’s okay, pretty boy. You let me know when you feel like this though, please. I want to help.”

Spencer didn’t pull his hand away, he instead just stared down at Derek’s hand that was ontop of his. If Derek didn’t know any better, he would swear that Spencer started blushing. But he shook that thought out of his head as quickly as it came. It’s just the lighting in the diner being weird, it’s the fact Spencer’s head was now angled down; hair falling into his face, blocking his eyes and creating a weird shadow on his cheeks.

That what that was, it wasn’t Spencer blushing. It couldn’t be that.

“Can’t believe this started over me ordering coffee.” Spencer said, his attempt at cracking a joke to change the atmosphere around them. Derek smiled, “Yeah, ‘cause you’re a maniac for ordering coffee this late. I know for a fact you won’t be able to sleep after this.” He said, pulling his hand off of Spencer’s. He didn’t want to, but the moment of softness around them had passed. He couldn’t leave his hand there forever, even if it’s what he wanted most.

“I will be able to-“ Spencer started protesting, Derek shook his head; “Nuh-Uh, no way. You’re gonna end up asleep at 4 in the morning, wake up at 7, and complain on the jet the entire way home.” Spencer opened his mouth, as if to protest again. But shut it almost immediately after, Derek was right.

“Doesn’t matter, I’ll steal your blanket on the way back.” He replied, as if that was the best he could do. “That’s harsh, Reid, real harsh. Whatever will I do without my blanket?” Derek faked a pouting face, Spencer rolled his eyes as he flicked the crumpled up sugar packet at Derek’s general direction on the other side of the booth, missing him by a few inches as it landed by Derek’s side.

“C’mon, let’s order something, I’m hungry.”

They ordered, Derek just got toast, he wasn’t that hungry. Spencer, however, ordered a BLT, and when it came to their table; he practically inhaled in within a few minutes.

“You gonna come up for air anytime soon?” Derek joked as he finished off one of his two slices of toast, the blush rose in Spencer��s face again. Derek pretended it wasn’t there.

“ ‘m hungry..” was all he mumbled out in response, before taking another bite that was way too big to fit in any normal humans mouth. Derek watched him fondly, this time not breaking his gaze to look down at the menu. Spencer was gorgeous, in his mind.

It didn’t matter that he was shoving his face into a sandwich, it didn’t matter it was nearing 1 a.m. at a diner in nowhere, population zero. It didn’t matter that they both had bags under their eyes, that they were both sleep deprived; it didn’t matter that Spencer’s hair was ruffed up, or that his clothes were wrinkled and awkwardly framing his small body. Derek couldn’t look away. Everything he could ever want in a person was in front of him, handsome, smart, kind, caring, Spencer.

Derek ignored everything inside of him that was telling him to just say it, instead turning to chuckle at how Spencer looked like a chipmunk, stuffing food in his mouth.

“If you eat too fast, you’ll feel sick.” Derek told him. Spencer shook his head in response, swallowing the food in his mouth before responding, “That only happens if someone has an acid reflux problem.” “You’re gonna get one, at this rate.”

Spencer just rolled his eyes at Derek while he wiped his mouth with a napkin.

Derek watched Spencer continue on, he either didn’t notice or didn’t care- he was just focused on his sandwich.

They finished their meals, Derek set down a 20 dollar bill and a 10 dollar bill at the table, which covered both of their orders. Spencer looked disappointed, almost upset. He didn’t like when others did things for him, it’s a habit he needed to unlearn.

“I brought you out here, I can pay.” He spoke, reaching for his wallet that sat in his cardigans front pocket. Derek waved him off as they both slowly stood up from the booth, “Not necessary.” Derek so desperately wanted to add on ‘you can pay next time’ but he couldn’t. He didn’t want to push his luck.

This was the farthest he had ever gotten with Spencer, the soft energy they had created within the diner, the hands resting ontop of each other. He couldn’t ruin it, he couldn’t.

They made their way back to the hotel, which was in walking distance of the restaurant. It was colder than before, though, and Spencer had forgotten how chilly it could be- the only secondary layer he had covering his body was his thin cardigan. It wasn’t long before he started shivering on their way back.

Derek noticed almost immediately, how Spencer wrapped his arms around himself in a feeble attempt to conserve body heat.

“Here, stop.” Derek stopped them from continuing forward on the sidewalk, raising his hand up as a signal. He wasn’t gonna let Spencer freeze, though this was a pitifully cliche moment. Derek pulled his thick coat off his shoulders, handing it over to Spencer, who shook his head in response; “No, no. You keep that, Derek. I’ll be fine.” “Spencer, we have four more blocks before we get to the hotel, you’re gonna be freezing your ass off by then.”

“I can’t take your jacket-“ “You’re not, I’m giving it to you. Now get it on.” Derek told him, his voice not sounding stern, just intense. He meant what he was saying. Spencer breathed out a puff of air, before finally compromising and taking the jacket from Derek’s hand. He slid the large coat over his thin frame, the jacket was way too big on him.

Derek didn’t care, Spencer looked beautiful to him. In his oversized jacket, it just made Derek’s mind race faster. God, he was absolutely losing it, and over what? His work crush. His hopeless work crush that was too much of an oblivious genius to realize.

“Let’s go,” Derek said, continuing them on forward before he could say something he’d regret. They continued down the sidewalk, illuminated by the small passing streetlights.

“Derek?” Spencer asked him curiously once they were inside the hotel, Derek looked over at him, now he could see him in better lighting.

Spencer’s nose and cheeks were flushed red from the cold, Derek’s oversized jacket still wrapped tightly around him, as if it was a light preserver.

“Yeah?” He asked him nonchalantly, as they continued through the lobby and to the elevator.

“Thanks for coming with me. I didn’t wanna go alone.” Spencer admitted sheepishly, looking down at his hands instead of Derek as they walked. They got to the elevator, and Derek reached over, pressing the button that illuminated softly once he had touched it.

They waited for the elevator to reach them in silence.

Once they were on the elevator, no words were exchanged. Derek didn’t need to know Spencer’s floor number, as it was the same as his. They were both too tired, for different and same reasons simultaneously.

The elevator whirred, propelling them up to their floor. Then it dinged, alerting them they were there. Derek and Spencer stepped out together into the empty, lit up hallway.

“Here,” Spencer mumbled as he pulled Derek’s jacket off his body, he had to do this now before he forgot all together, or else he’d end up bringing it home with him. Derek took the jacket wordlessly, carrying it in his arms, he didn’t know what he could say.

They started off in separate directions, Derek’s room was down the hall to the right, and Spencer’s was down the hall to the left. They departed slowly, Derek moving at a tiresome pace. His mind was slowly filling up with thoughts, all of Spencer, and all of what transpired this night.

Spencer made his way down his own hall, before stopping all together, turning slowly to watch Derek’s frame slowly continue away.

Spencer had to speak now, or else he’d never get the chance again; “Hey, Derek?” He called out, not too quietly. He grimaced at that, he should be quieter, after all, his coworkers rooms were right in front of him.

Derek turned around, “Yeah?” He asked curiously, walking to approach Spencer.

Spencer decided not to say his next sentence loudly, instead he waited for Derek to reach him. “Can we do this again?” “...Do what?” Derek asked, a bit confused as he neared him- and the last thing he wanted to do was assume, get his hopes up, psych himself out over something seemingly impossible.

“Get food together- I like being with you... I’d like to do it again.” Derek stayed quiet for a moment as his mind processed all Spencer said, “...So, you’re thinking... like a date..?” He asked, just wanting to clarify.

Spencer’s face blushed scarlet, this time lighting and shadows couldn’t be the excuse as to why, he nodded slowly; “Yeah, like a date.”

Derek nodded, “Yes, I’d like that.”

———————————————————————

57 notes · View notes

jenomark · 4 years

Text

Part 3

➔Pairing: Idol!Haechan x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: Johnny ➔Genre: Smut (but with a plot!) ➔Warnings: vaginal penetration ➔Word count: 6,500

➔Summary: He’s an idol, a friend, and you took his virginity. Beginning your friends-with-benefits relationship with Haechan wasn’t the best idea, but you just can’t help yourself when it comes to him.

↞ Part 1 ↞ Part 2

You needed a soft place to land when you fell. He pretended like he wasn’t the right kind of landing, his Gemini lips razor sharp, the words pouring from his mouth meant to bewitch you. Though he’d never admit it, the boy was a soft caramel candy that melted between your lips, his chocolate center all over your tongue. Emotional unavailability turned into him showing up when you were sad, when you could feel nothing at all. He walked aimlessly until he found himself at your door. He always answered your calls. All the promises and needs in the world began to feel like commitment, his belongings placed strategically all over your apartment, the roof of his mouth hiding the dreaded B word. Boyfriend. Best friend. In the darkness, he would feel you, notice you, make you real again. He would unwrap you like a piece of candy, moving you around in his fingers until he wanted a taste. In the light, you were free falling.

11:46 a.m.

You: What do you mean Johnny is on his way?

11:52 a.m.

You: He’s here! What should I do? I’m not ready for this.

11:53 a.m.

You: I am going to kill you, Donghyuck.

24 Hours before Haechan sent the texts

Haechan let himself into your apartment. He never walked up your stairs unannounced. He told you he respected the line between privacy and whatever you were doing together, but you thought he was just too scared to see you in your natural habitat. Standing outside in the daylight made him nervous, and hiding behind doors had become so natural with his profession. You didn’t mind, even if it brought up a ton of questions you weren’t ready to answer. Secretly, you liked going to the top of your stairs and seeing him standing there, only his eyes visible underneath his Balenciaga hat. There were days he barely made it up the stairs before you jumped on him, your mouth and hands full of longing.

“You’re late.” you said.

“Wrong,” he said. “It’s exactly ten in the morning. If I’m late, it’s because your clocks are wrong.”

He trudged up the steps with his face looking down. In one of his hands was a gift bag, and in the the other, flowers so vibrantly red that you could see them in the darkness of the stairwell. When he reached the top of the steps, he pulled his mask down and pecked you on the lips. Watching him walk through your apartment felt natural. He knew exactly where to put the flowers. He padded around in your slippers, his movements so comfortable you would think he was shifting his mail from the table. He sat in his favorite chair facing you, his hands rummaging around in the bag he brought. There was something about his ease of existing that made you remember how you felt about him. He wasn’t quiet in the slightest. He yelled in your space, his lungs expanding to fill the room with a confident breath. You wheezed. More and more, you were realizing he was everything you wanted to be, everything you wanted to be with. He won.

“You look handsome.” you said.

Haechan’s hair was faded, and it matched his skin tone even better than his natural hair color did. Dark hair, you had come to realize, made him look more like a child. The Haechan before you was a man, the veins in his arm ropy and thick, like he had worked every day for the last ten years. You had looked at him many times before, but each time was more eye-opening than the last. You began to notice the little scars on his face without the shift of light. You could draw every mole on his body without a map, knew the faces he made when he was annoyed with menial things, and it was getting easier to spot all of the signs that you were falling for.

“I know.” he said without his usual lack of enthusiasm.

Out from the bag came a box. You didn’t have to hear him say it to know what it was. He smiled when he pulled it out, ripping off the plastic like he was tearing into a present he had always wanted. Haechan got up from his chair to present you with his gift: a brand new phone to replace the one he had broken. You were a little taken aback, your eyes darting over the face of the box, and your hands not knowing what to do with themselves.

“You know,” you said. “Most girls would expect jewelry.”

He wasn’t listening. He unearthed the phone from its box and held it in his hands. You felt the weight of your own slightly damaged phone in your pocket. He once called you stubborn because you refused to upgrade to a better model, but you were never one to burn money on things you didn’t need. Your phone still worked. Besides, the ridiculous attachment you had to it was difficult to explain.

“What do you think?” he asked, holding out the phone for you to inspect. “Do you like it?”

Haechan had peeled away the plastic to reveal the phones shiny facade. It was the same model as his, but he held it differently in the palm of his hand. You could tell that he wanted you to be pleased by his act of generosity. You made eye contact with him and smiled. You didn’t want a new phone, and he knew that.

“It’s nice,” you said. “You didn’t have to buy me a new phone. I thought you were joking when you said that.”

Again, Haechan wasn’t listening to you. He looked down at the phone and turned it on. He sat back down in the chair to fidget with it, his fingers smudging the screen. You sat on the edge of the couch and tucked your hands between your legs.

“We can get everything properly set up tomorrow,” he said. “Until then, you’ll have to use your old phone.”

“Why tomorrow?” you asked. “Why not today?”

“I have a date today,” he said. He checked the expensive watch on his wrist. “I really shouldn’t be here right now. “

“Oh,” you said. “A date?”

Your voice sounded too high, too sad. You cleared your throat. You opened your mouth to say something else, but the message was marked for deletion. You blinked a few times, the make-up you wore last night making your eyes stick together. You felt like a robot waiting for someone to program the right things for you to say. Speak now. Tell him you’re not bothered. You stood up, wishing desperately that you could retract the emotion from your voice. You took the phone from his hands and thanked him quietly, dragging the bag out from between his legs. You felt awkward and silly for ever thinking that you could be more than just friends. You moved around the room, cleaning up things that were already clean. You needed to keep busy, needed to keep your mind distracted. You could feel Haechan watching you spiral, but you didn’t dare turn to look at him. You wanted to keep just a little bit more of your dignity.

“Johnny set me up with another idol,” he said. “ I’m sorry. I didn’t know about it until I came home last night. I was going to tell you, but I wanted to tell you in person.”

“No,” you said, still moving. “It’s okay. You don’t need to tell me anything, Donghyuck. You have your life, and I have mine. We’re adults.”

Haechan stood up. His slippered feet were loud on your floor. Each step he took felt like a stab to your heart. You didn’t stop moving. You pushed a chair in. You shifted an empty box onto another table. You caressed a plant in passing, its leaves already dead. You wiped invisible dust from a table top. You stared at the clock on your wall a little too long, as if you too were expecting suitors to come knocking on your door. He was right. Your clock was running too fast. Haechan followed you as you moved, the sound of him making you nervous. He was trying to get your attention, but you were avoiding him. There was a speck of dirt across the room that you needed to attend to. You were going to rid it from this earth until he moved in front of you, blocking your path.

“Talk to me,” he said. “I want to be honest with you.”

“What should I say?”

You dropped your arms to your side. You stared at him directly, your eyes so wide, your back ramrod straight. You wanted to give the appearance of confidence but you feared that you just looked unhinged. You took a deep breath and waited for him to talk, but he didn’t.

Even though you knew it was a mistake, you continued, “ I’m happy for you. I’m sure she’s a lovely girl.”

“It’s just a date,” he said. “I’m not getting married.”

“That’s good to hear,” you said. “Who knows? Maybe you will marry her and you’ll live happily ever after.”

The sarcasm was too thick to strain from your voice. You could feel the conversation turning sour, in real time. You looked at him and he looked at you, his beautiful face full of sun. You turned around and closed the blinds, in a huff. You didn’t want the outside world to see what kind of person you could become when you were backed into a corner. In your short time being with him, you both managed to keep the real world out of your relationship. You never fought with him. If you bickered, the make-up sex saved you from destruction. You never found an issue with anything he did. For you, everything he did was a preface to the love story you sometimes fantasize about having with him. He was always the one person in your life whose relationship to you was well defined. You were the one in the wrong. Even though you knew it well, you couldn’t stop your emotions from wreaking havoc on what you had built in your little apartment. Haechan didn’t just take the steps up to you all on his own. You were the one who met him halfway, and you walked the rest of the way up together.

“What’s wrong? You look sad, ” he asked. “Talk to me.”

You tried moving past him, but he held you by your arms. You couldn’t look him in the eyes without crying, so he took your chin and forced you to. You didn’t know how to tell him that the thought of him being with someone else made you feel sick. It didn’t seem right to ask him not to go on the date.

“Nothing is wrong,” you said. “Everything is okay, on my end.”

Haechan dropped your head. You could see the annoyance on his face. Though he tried to be patient, he was physically tired. He looked away from you and looked at the blinds you had closed. You took a step back from him. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was sadness you read on his face, too.

“Are we friends?” he asked.

You were surprised by the question. “Of course we’re friends. Donghyuck, I’ve never wanted to be someone's friend as badly as I wanted to be yours. ”

He looked back at you. He was searching your eyes for the truth, the real truth. He never quite trusted you with his thoughts, his fears, or his concerns. You hoped for profound conversations with him, but he was a wall full of locks. Reading him was even more difficult than you thought it’d be. The sadness you thought you saw looked a little like humiliation when you opened the box to look inside. Were you the one who had read too much into the relationship? Did he show up at all hours of the night only because he felt sorry for you?

“Go on the date,” you said. “Live your life.”

“Is that what you want?”

No. “ I want you to be happy.”

Haechan laughed. There was no joy in his laugh, only sorrow. “You frustrate me,” he said. He walked forward, and you walked backward until your back was up against the blinds. “Tell me what you want from me.”

“I want you to go on the date.” you said.

Your automatic responses returned. You sounded dead inside, a hollow, metal body without any feeling. The moment he interlocked your fingers with his and looked down at the way your hands fit together, you could feel yourself becoming real. You had feelings, a heart, and thoughts in the shape of him. He touched his free hand to your cheek, warming your skin with his. He removed his hat and moved forward enough so that you could kiss his forehead.

“If that’s what you want,” he said softly.

Haechan picked you up and set you delicately on top of the table in front of the window. Your ass barely balanced on its edge, but with your legs wrapped around his waist, you kept yourself steady. As he kissed you, your head hit the window. You pulled the shirt tucked into his pants, but you didn’t let go of his hand. He lifted your arms together and pushed them against the blinds. You could hear them snapping in half, but you didn’t care. You could feel his tongue in your mouth. You could feel his devotion to you covering all your wounds, like a band-aid.

“Not here,” you whispered.

He lifted you up into his arms and tried carrying you to the bedroom, but you didn’t make it. You both capsized, sinking down onto the floor amidst boxes that didn’t belong to you, and a heart that didn’t, too. You looked up at him and brushed his hair from his face. He smiled, but the smile never reached his eyes.

When you felt him move inside of you for what you promised yourself should be the last time, you lost yourself in the heat. You pushed him off of your body until he was on his back. You held his arms down so he couldn’t touch you, and you rode him until you were sure you had fucked him out of your system.

You tormented yourself with thoughts of him meeting a woman without a face. Underneath the pixelations, she must have been pretty, but it didn’t matter. Around 3 p.m, you imagined him picking her up for the date. He would avoid the public's attention and roll up in a managers car, his window rolled down a little so she would know it was him. Maybe she was a singer, and when she got in the car, she sang him a song that made him fall in love with her. Those thoughts chased you through your day, even after you tried sleeping them away. Your hands felt full of his body, long after he left. Around 5 p.m, you touched yourself, imagining it was his hand drawing up your inner thigh.

When Haechan left, he looked back at you from the bottom of the stairs. You leaned against the wall and let your hair fall in front of your face. He left the new phone with you. As always, he was going to leave his jacket on the hook. You were angry with him for not actualizing how his date would affect you. You couldn’t continue to fuck someone else’s man, even if it was after something as harmless as a first date. You would give him space to figure out what he wanted.

“I’ll see you,” he said.

You knew he meant later, or tomorrow. He didn’t find much of a problem with dating someone casually and then coming over to your apartment to fuck you. You excused him because of his age, but you didn’t think it was that valid of an excuse. After you fucked, you asked him politely to get dressed and leave. Haechan dressed silently, looking at you the whole time he was buckling his belt. If you returned his gaze, you knew you’d never let him walk out of your life.

“Yeah.” you said.

“Is that all you’re going to say to me?” he asked.

Haechan placed the hat back on his head. You fought the urge to bowling ball yourself down your stairs and knock that hat right from his head. You didn’t own him. You didn’t want to own him. You didn’t want to be upset, and you didn’t want to keep so damn silent about how you really felt. Deep down, you convinced yourself that maybe it was for the best. Your relationship might never have worked if you brought it beyond sex, and if it did, you weren’t sure the rest of the world would accept you. It was natural for Haechan to date another idol, to avoid the press for as long as possible before making an announcement on some shitty tabloid website. It was natural for you to shut people out, holding yourself up in your apartment and only caring about work and the five hundred boxes that crowded your space.

“We’ll talk later.” you said.

You decided to smile, to hide behind the pain that both of you could see standing at the top of the stairs, your heart bleeding down into your shoe. He turned his back on you and walked out of your door, slamming it shut behind him.

Since he left, you’d been moping around. You cried a few times, throwing the tissues onto the floor once you were done with them. You kept the blind shuts and watched movies all day, your legs folded haphazardly underneath you. Around half past seven at night, your phone pinged. You reached for it underneath all the tissues. The cracks in the phone let the light shine dully, but it was so bright in the dark apartment that it hurt your eyes.

“What do you want?” you asked out loud.

You saw Haechan’s text on your lock screen, a picture of him smiling behind it. Ignoring it would have been the wise choice, but you were too nosy for that. You took your phone and slid the lock open, your eyes squinting to read the texts.

Haechan: Hope you’re doing well, y/n! I’m having coffee in this cold weather. It doesn’t taste too great. Dress warmly and stay healthy. Remember to take care of yourself. I love you.

When you noticed it was an automated text, you dropped your phone on the couch. As a joke, Haechan had set you up with an account weeks ago. “This way, “ he said. “Even when I’m not with you, I’m with you.” The texts he sent sometimes made you laugh. You could always tell when he wrote something with you in mind. Thousands of girls saw it every day, but the message was always meant just for you. You picked up your phone again and looked at the message. As you did, a selfie came through. In it, he was barely smiling, and his finger was poking his cheek. Looking closely at the background, you could see that he was at home. You had never been at his dorms, but he had sent you many graphic pictures from his bed.

You sat up and looked around your apartment. He was home. You stood up, your legs asleep, the pins and needles stabbing all the way down to your feet. You started at a run, but the pain was so great that you stumbled into a few boxes, knocking them over with a loud crash. You couldn’t move fast enough. You ran down your steps, stuffed your angry feet into your shoes, grabbed his jacket from the hook and wrapped it around your body. Flinging open your front door, you were immediately met with wind and rain. You went out anyway, holding your face away from the spray. You called an Uber and waited too long, your body shivering. When the car came, you didn’t make pleasantries with the driver. You tapped your hands on your knees the whole time and looked out of the window, asking yourself a million times what you were doing.

“Here!” you shouted when the Uber driver didn’t stop immediately.

“Let me pull over.” he said gruffly, his hand turning the wheel.

You waited impatiently, looking over your shoulder to see if anyone was walking down the street. In his neighborhood, it was easy to get caught, which is why you always avoided his dorm. Walking into the members on accident was extra dynamite in your path. You wouldn’t know how to explain why you were standing outside of their building in Haechan’s jacket, and with a scared shitless expression on your face.

“Please hurry,” you whispered, biting your knuckles. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t want to be too late. The whole ride over, you imagined how there was a possibility that he didn’t go home alone. You were the only person he had ever slept with. You didn’t know if he would take everything he learned from you and pass it onto someone else. You didn’t know if that was what he wanted.

When the car pulled into the spot, you flung yourself out of it with only a thank you as a parting gift. You stood on the sidewalk and looked up at the building, breaking eye contact only as a couple passed you on the pavement. It had started snowing, the flakes falling from the sky so beautifully before they melted on the ground. You looked down at them landing on Haechan’s jacket, its beauty perfectly captured before it sunk down into the fabric. You looked back up at the building and thought about turning back when your phone pinged.

Haechan: Are you dressed warmly?

At first, you thought it was another automated message. It wasn’t. You rubbed your thumb over his name, your fingernail getting stuck in the crack. You loved the phone so much, because every bit of him was all over it. You could transfer photos and keep them in clouds and drives, but his fingers were all over the buttons, and the memories of your smile were trapped behind the screen. You ran your finger over the crack again, before replying:

You: I am.

Haechan: Liar

You looked down at your phone. Reading the word Liar made you feel emotional. You wiped a tear that had fallen on your cheek, with the back of your hand. You kept remembering how, in the beginning, you asked him if he was brave enough. You believed that you were the one prepared for him, but you weren’t. You were the coward.

You: I’m very warm. You didn’t like the coffee?

Haechan: No

You: What was wrong with it?

Haechan: It wasn’t made by you

You: Oh.

Haechan: Are you going to tell me the truth now?”

You: About what?

Your heart was hammering in your chest. You lifted your head up to the sky and felt the snow softening on your face. When you looked back down at your phone, he had already written back:

Haechan: About being dressed warmly. I’ve worn that jacket, and it’s always made me cold.

You smiled, because he was right. It took you too long to grasp what he had said. When you did, you looked up and there he was. Haechan put his phone back into his jacket and looked you up and down. The way you both stood mimicked the night you decided you couldn’t wait to have him any longer. This time, it was him who closed the gap between you. There were no thoughts, no words, no long, drawn out sighs. Haechan took a step toward you and pulled you against his chest.

“Don’t worry, “ he said. “They won’t be back until midnight. We’re alone. ”

You clung to his arm in the elevator, your cheek taking a rest on his shoulder. The ride up to his dorms was mostly silent. Haechan hummed a song and you just listened, the warmth of the building making you feel sleepy. There was so much you wanted to confess, but it didn’t feel like the right time to talk. When the elevator stopped at his floor, he took your hands and moved you forward.

“Are you ready to see where I live?” he asked. “Where I think about you every single night?”

Your heart had been beating against your rib cage the entire time, and it wasn’t getting any quieter. You kept waiting for a manager to meet you at the door, for one of his members to catch you in the act of holding hands. When Haechan swung his front door open, you had to stop yourself from closing your eyes to shield yourself from any impending doom.

“Ta-da.” he said, his voice sounding so small.

Haechan was right. You were alone. The living space was empty and dark, the only light coming from a source over the stove. You took a step inside and removed your shoes. He offered you his slippers which were too big for you, but you liked having a part of him in the way he had you.

“What do you think?” he asked.

There was no girl waiting on the couch, her small face confused by your presence. There wasn’t anyone coming to pull the rug from underneath your feet. Haechan led you further inside, his hands never releasing yours. You didn’t want to pry too much into their private lives, so you swept your eyes over a few things before searching his face. He looked content with having you there, albeit, a little bit nervous.

“I like it,” you said. “It’s much nicer than my place.”

“Obviously,” he said.

You nudged him, playfully. Haechan pulled you in the direction of a door. You could feel a sickness growing in your stomach. You didn’t think you were ready to see his bedroom, the life he led beyond your world. Though you worked for the same man, your lives couldn’t be any more different. Haechan put his hand on his doorknob. At the same time, you felt something tug harder on your insides.

“Wait,” you said, pulling his arm. “Are you sure you want me to see this? There is no going back, if we do.”

“It’s just my bedroom,” he said. “You don’t have to be so scared. You let me in. Now, let me. “

You nodded. “Okay.”

Haechan opened the door to reveal a bedroom that could have existed anywhere. His blankets and sheets were blue and plain. His white furniture was from IKEA, a wireless charger and a packet of make-up wipes resting on top. There was a speaker, a computer, and a bathroom off to the side. You kept expecting some kind of secret to jump out at you from behind the curtain, but when you looked at the window, you only saw your reflection staring back at you.

“Come in, “ he said. “ It’s really okay, I promise.”

You walked further inside. Haechan shut and locked the door behind him. You stood awkwardly, your eyes taking in the symmetry of the room. You knew Johnny was his roommate and could figure out which things belonged to him. You didn’t love being among Johnny’s personal things when he didn’t know. You thought you could smell his cologne haunting you, but then you turned around to see a table with expensive bottles on top. Relax.

“It’s nice, “ you said. “This isn’t how I imagined it. I thought it would be messier.”

“Me?” he asked. “Messy? You know me. I’m not messy.”

“Do I know you?” you asked.

It was meant to be taken lightly, but Haechan’s face looked sad. You felt bad for saying it. You were going to apologize but then he took off his jacket and threw it in a corner of the room. You looked to where it fell, the lump it had become looking even more somber. When you turned back to him, he was pulling his shirt from his torso. You watched him strip until he was fully naked and standing at the end of his bed, his body for you to witness.

“This is me,” he said. “Your tongue knows me. Your hands, they’ve touched me in more places than this body. You find your way back to me when you’re sad. We try to fight it, but we’re not strong. You and I, we’re gutless. But I have a heart. I thought I could make it go away easily, but that isn’t true. You said I was intelligent once, and that isn’t true either. If I were intelligent, I would have told you a long time ago how I felt. I would have been brave. I accepted that date from Johnny because I was scared. “

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, shaking your head.

“It does to me,” he said. “I wanted you to fight for me. If I couldn’t do it, I wanted it to be you. I’ve always wanted it to be you. When I finally got you, I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want it to ever end, but I knew we couldn’t keep going like that. “

You stood in his room, and you removed your clothes, too. Piece by piece, they fell at your feet, each wrapping plunging to the floor. Being naked was easy, with him. You had sex so many times that you’d lost count. Being exposed to him felt different. You could feel that there was nothing left blocking the path between you.

“So, we stop,” you said, stripping the last piece of clothing. “ Donghyuck, let's please stop. I’m tired.”

He breached the space, his mouth on yours, his tongue melting like snowflakes on yours. You wrapped your arms around his middle and kept your body pressed tightly to his. He fell backwards onto his bed, with you on top of him. His hands were tangled in your hair before wandering all down your back. The noises coming from his throat as he kissed you were desperate. You moved your kisses down his body, from the tip of his chin, down his throat, over his chest, and on the sides of his hips. He was quiet and still, his fists clenching and unclenching.

“I love you.” he whispered.

You looked up. You kissed his mouth and asked him to say it again. Each time he did, you swallowed the words to keep them safe. Haechan gripped your waist and flipped you over until you were on your back. You hit the bed hard, your head bouncing back up. You had bitten your lip and tasted metallic on your tongue, but the pain made you laugh. You felt so happy, even when he looked distressed. Haechan held you close like he had damaged you, his head obscured by your neck.

“It’s okay, “ you whispered. “That’s not the first time you made me bleed.”

As if remembering how roughly he had fucked you before, Haechan’s lust woke up from a deep sleep. He used his arms to raise himself above you. He looked like he was lost in a daze of happiness, his hair already a mess, his eyes already gleaming. Though it wasn’t the first time you had sex that day, it was the first time you felt fully in one piece. There would be time for more honest talks, but right then, it was time to make love to him. You touched his chest before moving your hand down his belly to play with the fine hair there. His strength was minimal, so his arms shook as he held himself in that position. You wrapped your hands around his cock, the softness of it welcoming you home.

“Baby, the things you do to me.” he whimpered, his words from before summoning so many feelings within you.

You let him take the lead. He had learned enough from you, heard enough from you. He let you get him hard before taking over, his cock primed for your body. He kissed you again, his lips so soft and wet. You pulled him down so that you could hug him as he entered you, his body filling you up with so much love. Knowing that it wasn’t going to be the last time made it feel better than you could have imagined. Getting to be with him in a place so personal as the bed he slept in every day, progressed your relationship further than you ever would have thought.

When all was finished, you wanted to fall asleep in his arms. You didn’t want to remember that it wasn’t over yet, that you were still a secret tucked safely underneath his bed sheets. You held onto him for a little bit longer before you had to let go.

“What happens now?” you asked, getting dressed.

Haechan smiled. He was sheepish, his body folding like an accordion, back and neck bent, his throat so full of the most magical music. He put on his clothes inside out and brushed the hair nervously from his forehead.

“We do what normal couples do,” he said. “We keep moving forward.”

“But we’re not a normal couple.” you said.

You were fully dressed and ready to go. When he was finished, he brought you out into the living room so that you could put on your shoes. While you did that, he went back into his bedroom to erase every trace of you. You didn’t know if his members would be able to hear your moans as soon as they stepped foot in the dorm, your voice clinging like static electricity onto the curtains. To you, the smell of fresh sex stuck to everything. It wasn’t difficult to take one look at Haechan’s bedroom and know that love lived there.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes. “

Before he opened the front door, he kissed you one last time. You wanted him to sleep over at your place, but he had a schedule tomorrow. When one issue was moved from the path, a few more tumbled down.

“But I will talk to you when I can,” he said. “And I will send you pictures of me so you don’t forget me.”

“I could never forget you.” you said.

You held him as you walked all the way to the elevator. He tried tickling you by slipping his fingers underneath your jacket, but you squirmed away. When you brought yourself back to him, you were both laughing and playing around. When the elevator signaled that it was getting ready to open, you parted naturally, but your hands were still moving towards each other like magnets. When the elevator doors opened, Johnny stood there with headphones in his ears and his eyes looking from Haechan, to you.

“Hello.” Johnny greeted you, pulling the headphones from his ears and letting them rest around his neck.

You nodded in greeting, your brain trying to remember how you must have looked to him. You were dressed. Check. Your hair was not a mess. Check. Both of your shoes were on the right feet. Check. You were too scared to look at Haechan. You didn’t want your look to betray anything you did in his bedroom. Johnny was very intelligent, and you knew it wouldn’t take much to make him suspicious. A second passed while you were thinking all of this. You thought you were out of the clear before Haechan stepped away from you, widening the already wide gap between you. You looked over at him at the same time as Johnny. The guilt on Haechan’s face was printed in red all across his cheeks.

“You’re back early.” Haechan said.

Johnny smiled. “Yeah. Were you not expecting me back?”

When Johnny looked at you, you knew it was over. You expected him to question both of you on the spot, but he just raised his eyebrows at Haechan and walked past him. When the door to the dorm shut behind Johnny, Haechan breathed a sigh of relief, but you weren’t so relaxed.

“He knows.” you said.

“Johnny?” Haechan asked. “He doesn’t know anything. I think he’s oblivious.”

You really tried to hold onto that belief for as long as you possibly could. For a moment, as night turned to day, you pretended like you had fooled everyone.

Present Day

11:54 a.m.

You: Donghyuck!!

Your phone slipped out of your hands and onto the floor as a fist hammered at your front door. You didn’t care about having another crack in your screen. After all, what was one more crack in your mess of a life? Quietly, you walked down your stairs. You waited at the bottom and hoped that he would stop knocking, that Johnny would disappear altogether.

“I can hear you breathing.” Johnny said through the door.

You smoothed out the clothes you wore last night. When you got home, you fell into bed emotionally exhausted, without bothering to change. You liked to think you fell asleep with a smile on your face, but you were worried sick about how much Johnny knew. Waking up to Haechan’s texts was a nasty but unsurprising shock.

“Sorry.” you muttered.

You opened up the front door and gave Johnny your best “I’m innocent!” smile. He wasn’t wearing the clothes from the night before. In fact, he looked almost too perfect: his clothes pressed and his hair and make-up done.

“Hi,” he said. “Can I come in?”

“I’m kind of busy right now,” you said. “Maybe come back later?”

“I think you’ll want to let me in for this.” he said.

Johnny took his phone out of his pocket. You looked at the way his fingers worked to pull up a screen. You held onto the door to brace yourself, which was smart of you do. Johnny lifted up his phone to show you a picture of Haechan holding you outside of the 127 dorm, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

“Someone saw you and Haechan last night,“ he said. “ They pulled out their phone, took pictures, and then sold those pictures. The owner of those pictures now wants you to make an announcement through them, or they’re threatening to release a bunch of them today. So, can I come in now?”

You took Johnny’s phone out of his hand and thumbed through a gallery of pictures taken outside of the building and what looked like pictures of the security footage from inside of the elevator. You handed the phone back to Johnny. You tried to work through the tornado of feelings swirling inside of you, but all that could come out of your mouth was a resounding “ Fuck.”

#haechan #nct #lee donghyuck #haechan smut #lee donghyuck smut #nct smut #lee haechan smut #donghyuck #donghyuck smut #nct fanfiction #haechan fanfiction #donghyuck fanfiction #nct smut fanfiction #nct haechan smut #hope y'all like it 0_0 #(im nervous)

534 notes · View notes

timextoxhajima · 4 years

Text

HOSTIS, Chapter X: Medium Duorum, Half Of Two

Previous Chapter (IX: Phtonos)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz)

Genre (by chapter): drama, comedy, suggestiveness (?)

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

“whatever you choose to do from now on, decides whatever happens to you, and right now, your record isn’t looking very pretty.”

have you ever woken up to the warmth of sunshine and sunlight and birds chirping...

only to realise that you’ve never woken up to any of those before?

your torso shoots up from the mattress like it was a jack-in-a-box, and the blanket falls off your naked chest. the cold air slaps your skin and goosebumps pop up all over your skin while you grab the blanket to cover yourself.

then the ache sunk in.

“oh-- motherfucker...”

the view of his bedroom wasn’t only strangely comforting, but the smell was--

“nope!” wrapping the blanket around yourself, you shake your stupid thoughts out of your skull and dash into his washroom, searching for a towel. “no, no, no-- nope-- gross--”

your clothes were folded and placed on the sofa where he--

nope.

the clothes return back onto your body where they were supposed to be, and out of courtesy, you fold the towel and leave it where he left your clothes.

the pool of shredded napkin was gone, but you couldn’t care less at this point of time.

you let lee hyunjae screw you over not just once, but twice, and the second time was worse.

at least the first time was ruthless and he didn’t give a shit.

but last night--

“NOPE!”

the door of his house shuts quietly behind you, and zeus sends you a cab with kindness.

you thank your department heads for giving you the day off, so you had a day to pray that the ache between your legs was going to go away by the time you return to work.

which was in 24 hours.

classical music paired with wine became your best friend the entire day. your phone was turned off because you didn’t want anybody bothering you; not your parents and definitely not lee hyunjae.

you were lucky he didn’t decide to turn up at your doorstep like the first time he did.

but 24 hours zipped by like nothing, especially when you spent most of the time slipping in and out of consciousness for your body to recuperate.

sunday morning came, and though the ache wasn’t as bad as it was the previous day, it was still having an effect on your walking.

“oh, hey!”

eric’s bright smile made the volume of guilt increase exponentially inside you, like turning on a hose and throwing it into a tiny pail.

“i was waiting for you to drop me a text, thought something happened to you after the party,” his eyes follow you as you get to your temporary cubicle at the research office, and lee hyunjae’s bright brown hair steals your attention for a split second.

it physically hurt to know that just the sight of him could push you off your balan--

“oh my--” eric rushes to you the moment your hip hits the floor, and you couldn’t believe you literally jinxed yourself, just by thinking it. your eyes stay glued to the ground as eric pulls you up, and a few other colleagues look over the partitions of the cubicles to check on you.

“i’m good!”

no i’m not, i can’t even fucking walk properly--

“no worries!”

the blood rushing to your face and neck was probably enough to fill a pint, and the desire to ram your face into your desk was so strong, your jaws start to lock in awkward positions.

your eyes connect with the ones of your reflection in the laptop, and your vision starts to zoom in on the barely covered marks on your neck. if you scratched it or remotely put any effort into rubbing your neck, the foundation would come off and a room full of doctors would be fully aware of what caused them.

“so, what happened to sending me a text friday night?” eric leans back in his chair, and the sight of him being in a bright blue dress shirt and pants reminded you that he was just a research intern at the hospital.

no white coat, not a permanent staff.

“oh, uh... i would’ve, but...”

but someone tore it into a million fucking pieces.

“i forgot about it and threw my jeans into the washing machine then napkin got ruined, i’m sorry,”

yeah sure, if only doctors would really forget their shit so easily.

“aw, man,” eric whines and pouts a little, the sight making you melt into a tiny puddle of goop on the inside. he leans back in his seat and rests the back of his head into his hands, eyes looking up at the ceiling as if he was waiting for you to continue your apology.

the air between you was a tad awkward, because you were so confused with what he was doing. everybody else was furiously typing away on their laptops and doing whatever they needed to do, but you were sitting here, the only thing in your head being eric’s number.

you must’ve had a look of worry and sorrow printed on your face when eric looks at you again in the corner of his eyes, and a mischievous smile stretches across his lips, halving his eyes into little crescents.

“i’m just messing with you, come on!” he encourages, rolling his seat across to yours. the chairs bump against each other and he fumbles around your table, looking for a spare piece of paper. “i’ve lost count of the number of times my mom yelled at me over wet, shredded paper in my pockets.”

there was never a time when eric couldn’t lighten the mood, was there?

a grin spreads on your face and eric pulls out a pen from his breast pocket, his pointer pushing his glasses up his nose first before the tip of the pen hits the piece of paper.

the pen starts to move, but the second digit doesn’t a chance to show itself.

“you came in pretty late today,” the familiar voice sounds like an alarm right next to your ear, and the low pitch ripples through your bones like an earthquake. “where were you? back at the office?”

eric stops writing and looks up at lee hyunjae with enlarged, wondering eyes. sweat starts to break out under your clothes and in your palms, your lips pursing and every facial muscle struggles to pull your lips into a forced smile.

“yes, doctor lee, got a problem?” angling your head just enough so you wouldn’t look like you were avoiding him; but you catch a glimpse of that innocently smug smile ingrained into his face. the nervous system inside you hangs like an old computer when he turns your chair around, and he raises a brow at you.

“what were you doing in the office? we had instructions to be here in the research department by eleven and you walked in at eleven twenty.”

because i was covering up your fucking marks and struggling not to look like someone broke me two nights ago, motherfucke--

“anyway,” he pulls away and scratches the back of his head. “doctor choi wanted me to tell you some stuff regarding the neuro department so i’m gonna need to steal her away for awhile.” he turns to eric and points to you with his thumb.

“doctor choi? why wou--”

“oh, sure!” eric exclaims, dropping the pen without his number on the piece of paper. “you guys go do you, i have to get back to my report anyway. we’ll have lunch together later!”

watching eric roll himself back to his cubicle enthusiastically was so painful and antagonising for you, the glare that shot out through your shrinking pupils was enough for lee hyunjae’s smug smile to appear on his face.

“pantry,” the cold instruction pushes a button in you, and you were so tempted to just stretch out one leg to trip him over.

unfortunately, this was a hospital, and you’d be damned if you were caught bullying another doctor.

he was already beyond the reach of your feet anyway.

the pantry on this floor was secluded, and you doubt the mental preparations you were giving yourself were going to be enough.

not before lee hyunjae torments you about friday night.

the door slides open when he scans his ID card, and the scent of coffee and cinnamon buns fill your nostrils. your eyes immediately dart around the pantry once you were inside, completely ignoring the fact that you were in here because he had a message from your mentor for you.

quick steps bring you to the fridge in the corner of the pantry and your thoughts of whatever you were smelling was already making you salivate.

but you barely get the door of the refrigerator open when he slams it shut from your side, and a small burst of frustration erupts in you.

“just what the fuck is wrong with you?”

he cages you between the refrigerator and the wall that was perpendicular to it, your back against the corner where the appliance and the concrete met.

his left hand was pressed flat against the refrigerator to the right of your head, and he leans the back of his forearm against the flat surface of the wall, his thumb and index finger rubbing his nose bridge like he was having a headache.

“tell me something, y/n,” a frown cements itself into his forehead, and the warmth from the refrigerator starts to seep through your coat and clothes. “what is it that you see in eric? he looks like... like he’s twelve--”

“excuse me?”

“stop flirting with the damn intern would you? this is a hospital and you’re not doing yourself any good by choosing the one person in the research department who’s going to leave in like, a month--”

“the hell is it to you, bitch?”

something inside him snaps, and you saw it.

a scoff runs through your nose and you were about to turn in attempt to open the refrigerator again.

“at least he isn’t as big of an ass as you are.”

your arm just leaves your side and was raised at a height enough for him to grab it to hold you in place. without warning, he cushions his lips against yours, and the contact ruthlessly pulls you back to friday night.

the color comes off your lips and paints his, the taste of him on your tongue was horrendously familiar; you wish you didn’t know how he tasted.

unfortunately, something clicks, and your body refuses to delete the memory of how good he felt against your lips. the edge of his coat brushes against your thighs, and your fingers start to trail upwards to his collar. a small thump behind your head signals to you that his palms were now pressed against the appliance you were leaning on, and he was simply closing the cage on you.

the sound of the pens in his coat start to click against one another when the kisses get rougher, needier, and his hand finds the back of your head to prevent you from pulling away, not that your body wanted to anyway.

reality rips the two of you apart in the form of someone clearing his throat, and the fact that it was disturbingly loud sends your heart into a rapid mess.

lee hyunjae removes himself from you in an instant, and you stand rooted to the ground, fists clenched and eyes reading the facial expression of the person who just walked into the pantry.

licking your lips in attempt to hide your embarrassment, your vision turns to your feet while you wince in shame and frustration with yourself.

the sound of a ceramic mug being filled with water earns your attention, and you look up through your lashes, your head still hung low.

doctor kim’s side profile was in full view for you to notice the little smile he had on his lips, and out of the corner of your eye, lee hyunjae was just as flustered and caught off guard as you were. his fists were clenched and shoved into his coat pockets, and his head was turned out the window to avoid eye contact with the elder doctor.

“ah... doctor lee... if you want to make babies, do it somewhere else...”

he returns the water flask to the counter and turns on his heels for the door, and just before he opens it, he turns his head enough for you to see the fatherly smile on his face.

“i was beginning to wonder if my guess was wrong,” he shoots the two of you a playful look as he presses his ID card against the scanner.

the shame that displayed itself on your cheeks and face was probably the same shade as the lipstick you were wearing, and the back of your shirt was now stuck to your skin from sweat.

the door whirs shut again, and the awkward silence remains in the air while the two of you struggle to process whatever just happened.

“you really shouldn’t be wearing such a bright red shade at work,” he turns around and his voice pulls your head back up to see that the area around his lips were coated in your lipstick. the sight punches you in the gut with a strange mixture of disgust, anger and shame.

“how is it my fault that you have lipstick on your--”

“the shades’ not appropriate,” he reaches behind you and pulls out a couple of napkins from the box on the refrigerator. “not for work.”

the frown and utter look of disbelief returns to your face, and you shift away from the refrigerator and him, trying your best not to shove your knee into his groin. you would’ve started spitting vulgarities into his face, but there was no point.

what’s done is done, and not only that, you were caught by doctor kim.

but old habits die hard, and your tongue couldn’t resist calling him shitty names like you’ve always done.

“i wear whatever the fuck i want, fucking dumbsh--”

the quick kiss throws you off guard, again, and he was careful not to press too hard, but you hated how the feeling of his lips against yours lingered longer than you’d like it to.

he wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb, then wipes his lips with the napkins again, turning away to look for a bin without shifting his feet. his eyes shoot you one last look you couldn’t read, and the memory of everything finds difficulty sitting itself in your messy, messy mind.

“don’t wear such an obvious shade next time, makes it harder for me to get away with it.”

...what?

“hurry your dumbshit ass,” he starts striding to the bin near the door and doesn’t bother looking back at you. “eric’s waiting for us to have lunch with him, i’m sure you don’t want to miss that.”

all the features on your face fall to dismay at the thought -- no -- at the confusion of what was happening.

"are you alright though? the fall this morning was so sudden,” eric sits himself opposite you and lee hyunjae to your right.

the close proximity sends ripples of ache and distaste throughout your nervous system.

"i'm fine, really," a little brush runs across the side of your thigh, and you glance down to notice his left hand pressing onto the seat between the two of you.

"did you come to work on a hangover or did you happen to have... some great time last night?" eric gives you a playful smirk, shoving some of his salad into his mouth.

"maybe she did. well, recently," lee hyunjae leans against the table and scratches his nose with the hand that was previously on the seat.

but he was only doing it to make it look natural.

"didn't you?" his hand lowers and lands on your right thigh, safely out of sight, and the warmth of his palm melts your skin through the material of your jeans.

you suck in a deep breath and raise both brows, both your arms still leaning against the table as you pushed the cherry tomato around the bowl.

"well," you grin at eric and provide him with a mischievous brow raise. "i'm pretty sure i'd remember it if i did have a great time last night, and i don't, so no."

the grip around the flesh on your leg tightens ever so slightly, and you bite down on your bottom lip to hide your surprise.

"aw man, i wanted to laugh at you about it and ask about details," the disappointment pulls your lips apart, and your eyes soften, watching him pick at his food.

eric had such gorgeous features, you struggled to contain yourself. had you known eric in high school, he would've been the one you drooled over, not younghoon.

not the guy who dumped you just because of some stupid picture that this little bitch posted onlin--

a tight squeeze to your thigh.

"anyway eric, so what else do you do in your free time?" ignoring his little 'gesture', you return your attention to the cutest guy at the table.

"oh, i just gym and play baseball, that's pretty much it."

"oh!" you exclaim enthusiastically. "no wonder you're so fit and energetic all the time. not many people your age would still be invested in sports."

the fingers dig into your flesh and slowly starts to contract, and subtle movements tell you that he was on the verge of kneading your thigh altogether.

"you're unfortunately right, not many people who start working spend much time in sports," eric's face dulls, and you couldn't resist pouting at his sudden decrease in energy.

eric continues to grumble, but all your eyes focused on was his face. your ears were hearing the words, but your mind wasn't processing them.

the boy finishes his salad, but a dollop of salad dressing get on the corner of his lips. instinctively, you grab a napkin and reach out to him, and eric's open-american personality leans forward to let you clean whatever you wanted to remove off his face.

the grip on your thigh gets harder to ignore when the napkin drags across eric;s lips, and you shut your thighs together when his thumb digs in too far into your outer thigh.

you quickly pull away from eric, feeling lee hyunjae's bones between your legs.

"thanks," he pulls out his phone and types something in. naturally, you assumed that he was about to ask you for your number instead.

so when he did, the strength that lee hyunjae had to invest to hide his tightening, suffocating grip on your thigh under the table and out of sight was unbelievable.

while your number was being logged into eric’s phone, hyunjae was pulling your right thigh away from your left, and you had to slowly give in, otherwise a vein would show up on your forehead and you couldn't let eric think anything of it.

"great!" he claps and takes his phone back from you. "now we don't have to worry about napkins anymore."

lee hyunjae lets out a fake hearty laugh, which poor eric falls for. it earns a glare of disapproval from you and your eye twitches from his hand refusing to leave your thigh.

"anyway, i really have to get back to my work, so i’ll be heading back to the research department first," eric stands up and picks up his bowl after shoving his phone into his pocket.

"wait, eric--"

"catch you guys later, bye!"

nooo don't leave me alone with this person...

"'i think i would remember if i did', huh?" he asks with a low voice, and he starts shoving all the food left in his bowl into his mouth. you try to shift away from his grip on your leg, but it doesn't do you any good besides him tightening his hold on you.

the veins in his hands were starting to show, and your mind involuntarily whips out images from friday night when his hands where interlocked with yours while he fucked you out on the sof--

"so you're going to pretend like you didn't spend twenty minutes this morning covering my marks on your skin, and the fact that you fell over not because you tripped, but because of me?"

"i didn't fall over because of you--"

"really? so what were all those things you said friday night, hmm?"

you drop your cutlery into the bowl with despise, ready to grab everything and just leave.

but lee hyunjae slides his hand up your thigh and brushes an area that shouldn't be within his reach.

your body fails to contain a squirm and your lips get sucked between your teeth while your brows start to furrow.

"listen to me very carefully, kitten," he speaks without looking at you, and your eyes struggle to peel themselves away from the bowl. "whatever you choose to do from now on, decides whatever happens to you. and right now, your record isn't looking very pretty."

something inside you reminds you that you hate this son of a bitch, and the hatred motivates you to spit your thoughts out without processing them.

"was that a threat?" a snort finds its way out your nose, and you turn to glare at him, wishing you could drive a knife into his face.

"that wasn't a threat, sweetheart," his eyes turn to look at you, and for once in ten years, your heart races. not because you wanted to suck the life out of this guy, but because you were genuinely unsure about what he was capable of.

"it was an instruction. so do whatever you want at your own risk, but remember that ares is cruel," his hand slides off your thigh and your skin starts to yearn for his warmth, against your will.

"and... last time i checked, i was one half of two areses, but you?”

he grabs the bowl and stands up.

“you ran off without saying good bye."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter XI: Et Invisibilia Filum

#lee hyunjae #hyunjae #the boyz hyunjae #hyunjae fanfic #the boyz fanfic #timetohajima

110 notes · View notes

queeniewriteshockey · 4 years

Text

Stay The Night || Part 4 || Nolan Patrick + Reader

A/N: I AM SO SORRY FOR MAKING EVERYONE WAIT FOREVER. Please please please forgive me. I know I am literally the WORST! I hope you like this installment. There is ONE more part to this story and it’s almost finished. I love you all Requested: Y/N Word Count: 2,312 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 (final)

The days following your leave from the not so beautiful city of Philly are filled with many questions and few answers. The drive to Winnipeg did nothing to alleviate your mind or put you at ease. It was 29 hours of memories constantly playing as if your mind was a flipbook. You'd blink, and the memory would change; a song on the radio would trigger a different thought, or a landmark would remind you of something.

It wasn't the first time you'd driven this route. You'd done it once before when you'd moved from Winnipeg to Philly. Nolan hadn't been with you, but you'd spent most of the drive-in contact with him. You'd spent hours on the phone with him as you drove the lonely roads at hours of the night and day when no one was on the road. He kept you awake and entertained, or he checked in with you at pit stops. He was the one that convinced you to stop for the night and not try to drive straight through. It was a 24-hour drive; he wanted you alive.

You snort at the memory and shake your head. What had you expected when you did this? Did you really think he was just going to drop everything and realize he loved you? Romantic fantasies were for the young, and you felt like you'd aged three decades in the few months you'd lived in Philly.

Just as before, driving straight through was not an option. The light of day was starting to crest the horizon, and you'd still only had a small amount of sleep if you could even call it that. A half an hour tops in the car park of Nolan's place was not sleeping. That was an error in judgment and nothing else.

Winter nights were long and cold, but the sunrise was beautiful; the varying shades of mauve and tangerine mixing as the rays of light catch little dust motes in the air is a sight you still marvel at, no matter how old you feel.

The tiredness you felt before you'd fled from Nolan with the small amount of dignity you had seeps back into your bones as you drive. It weighs you down and makes your body sag from it all. Your shoulders feel like the world is sitting directly on them. You are not Atlas; your arms were not crafted to hold so much weight.

A voice in the back of your head tells you to stop. It begs you to pull over and rest. The voice sounds more like Nolan than it does you, and you do what it says. Even in your fit of despair, you can not deny Nolan anything. You hate the hold he has on you, but it's your own fault, not his.

The rest stop is nearly empty when you pull into one of the stalls and drop your seat back so that you can take a nap. You cover-up in the comforter you pulled off your bed during the quick pack and move you'd done about four hours earlier and use your pillow to catch a little shut-eye. The moment you let your eyes shut, the world fades away. The weight of your comforter and the warmth it brings draws you under.

Waking up is a chore, and it takes you a moment to understand what's brought you back to consciousness. Your phone vibrates on the seat beside you. Nolan's name taunts you from the screen.

It's his name that forces you to wake up. It's his voice on the left message that pushes you out of the rest stop and back down the road. His message was so casual, so innocent. A simple "Call me, please?" He had no idea how broken you were, but that was by design. You didn't want him to know. It wasn't his fault, after all. You only had you to blame for the million pieces your heart had shattered into.

You turned the radio up loud and hit the highway and did your level best not to look back. You didn't want to think about what you were leaving behind because the truth was, there was nothing in Philadelphia for you. Were you overreacting? Probably. But the dream had felt so real and then seeing him with her, you just snapped. You couldn't take it anymore. You hated Philly, and you hated yourself for thinking you could have what you wanted when you weren't willing to speak up.

It was fine. You were going to be okay. You'd go back to Winnipeg, get a job in the field you went to school for, and find a better life. That was the plan that pushed you through the long drive. You stopped somewhere in Wisconsin for the night, slept and showered, and continued on. You didn't stop for anything but food and the bathroom. Before you knew it, you were pulling into the driveway of your parent's home.

It was late in the day, late enough that everyone was already home from work. Your mom was bursting through the door before you even had a chance to get out of the car. The worry on her face was evident even from a distance of half a kilometer. You probably should have called her and told her you were coming home, but you were too busy avoiding Nolan, thoughts about him, and his phone calls. It didn't even occur to you to give her a heads up. As it was, you have a voicemail, and three missed calls from Nolan. A surprisingly large amount from someone who often forgot what a cellphone even was.

Your mom pulls you into a hug as you get out of the car, something on your face must have told her all she needed to know. The embrace was firm and warm, and everything you needed. You return the hug just as fiercely and let yourself finally hurt the way you’d been trying not to. The tears that threatened to spill as you fled Nolan’s place two days ago eventually fall and all you can do is hold onto your mom. You’re thankful she doesn’t let go or ask questions. Words were not something you had the ability to hold onto. Your thoughts were like grains of sand slipping through parted fingers, and words were worse.

She holds onto you until you pull away and wipe your face. Her hands cup the sides of your face and smooth your hair down. The corners of her eyes droop with worry, and her eyes shine with unshed tears. It’s a mom thing. Or so she’s always said. “You cry, I cry. It’s that invisible umbilical cord. It’s just the way it is.” You don’t like making your mom cry.

“Philly sucked,” you tell her simply as you sniffle.

She nods and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s get you inside, and you can tell me all about it.”

You let yourself be swept up in her embrace again, and the two of you walk up the drive together. Your father is standing at the door, waiting. He says nothing just loops an arm around you and presses a kiss to your temple as you pass him and head into the living room.

You tell your mom some of the reasons why you hated Philly, leaving a Nolan sized hole in your explanation. If she noticed, she doesn’t ask. She’s always been good like that. Eventually, you’ll tell her. It might be a few days. It might be a few years. She knows, though, that eventually, she’ll find out.

“Is it cool if I crash here while I look for a job?” You ask. You don’t want to assume anymore, even though you know the answer will always be yes. It’s not your home anymore.

She waves off your request with a scoff and tells you to go wash up.

Your bedroom is exactly the way you left it, and it does nothing for your mental strength. There are pictures of Nolan all over the place. There’s even a Wheatkings jersey hanging on your closet door. For a moment, you wonder how much that jersey can get you. It’s game-worn, after all, but you can’t do that. You just stick it in the closet and forget about it.

It’s weird being back in Winnipeg, but familiar, and you kind of need that stability at the moment. Life goes on, and the world keeps turning, so breaking down and forgetting to keep going isn’t an option. You give yourself only a few days to collect yourself before looking for a new job and once again starting over. You did it in Philly, where you knew only one person. You can do it in Winnipeg, where you know many people.

Finding that job wasn’t hard. Neither was getting an apartment. You had enough saved up from your job in Philly for a down payment. Before you knew it, your life was pieced back together, and Philly was four months in the past. It was almost as if you’d never gone to Philly. The only thing missing was Nolan. He was harder to shake off as it turned out. It took two, maybe three months, for the calls and texts to stop coming in. You answered none of them. Deleted his voicemails without listening (most of the time) and changed the settings in your texts with him so he couldn’t tell if they’d been read or not. Of course, they had been.

Other social media was harder to ignore. You’d see him in your Instagram story notifications long after the calls and texts died. He was still there, even if you wished he wasn’t. He’d always been thick in the head, but it was never in the wrong way. He’s dumb, but he was the right kind of dumb. The type of dumb that made you laugh. The kind of dumb that made it easy to fall in love with him. He was stoic and flat and the sweetest guy in the world. Losing him as a friend hurt, but you couldn’t be around him and be as in love with him as you were. You just. You couldn’t.

“Hey did you hear about Nolan,” Leslie says as she slides into the booth and sets your beer down in front of you.

You look up from your phone, startled by her question. It was as if she’d known you were thinking about him. You weren't looking at a picture, but his Instagram handle mocked you from where it sat in the list of people who had viewed your story.

“Uh,” you say eloquently, “no. I haven’t talked to Nolan since I left Philly.” It was the truth, though the why was left vague. He was busy with the team, or you were busy with work.

“Well,” she says, turning to face you. Her smile is as wide as the Chesire cats, and it makes you raise an eyebrow. Something tells you she’s been itching to gossip for a while. “Apparently,” she starts, and you grab for your beer and try to settle in for a good story. “He isn’t staying in Philly this summer. Apparently he and Jaqueline broke up.”

“Who?” You ask because you have no idea who Jaqueline is. You stopped paying attention to his love life when you left Philly.

“You know, Jaquie, that girl he was seeing for a while down there?”

Was that her name? You probably should have taken a more active role in learning about her, but the idea hurt more than you wanted to admit. “Oh, right. That’s too bad,” you say in an attempt to sound supportive of your friend. You’re not supposed to be happy when a relationship ends, after all.

“Yeah, sucks. But, that means… guess who’s back for the summer?” She’s practically humming with excitement as she says it.

You don’t need to ask ‘who.’ There was no point, given the topic of the conversation. Nolan would be back in The Peg, which meant you’d need to find ways to make yourself scarce. Having the same group of friends was the downside of cutting him out of your life.

“Oh, cool,” you say because you needed something to say to cover the fact that you were freaking out inside and planning your escape routes. You know that you’ll be dragged to a few parties when he gets back.

“Oh, cool? That’s your reaction? Your best friend is coming to visit, and you say oh, cool? What happened in Philly, girl?”

“Nothing,” you say honestly. Nothing did happen. Nolan did nothing wrong. You broke your own heart. “It’ll be nice to have him back.”

“Hey,” a voice cuts in, breaking off your thoughts and ceasing your heart. You look up so quickly your vision brightens slightly with the combination of the alcohol mixing with your nervous system. Nolan is standing across the way a bit, looking just as good as he did the day you left Philly. The confusion on his face is just as prominent as it was that night, but there’s something else in those pretty blue eyes.

Hurt.

Concern.

Worry.

His eyes were always the most expressive part about him. People liked to give him a hard time; they liked to tease him about being emotionless, but you knew the truth. They just didn’t know what to look for.

“NOLAN!” Leslie practically screeches before she launches herself out of her seat and throws herself into his arms. “We missed you so much,” she says into the embrace.

Nolan wraps his arms around her and returns the hug, but his eyes are on you, freezing you to the seat. “I missed you, too,” he says though you’re not sure if he’s talking to Leslie or to you.

#nolan patrick #Nolan patrick imagine #NHL Imagine #hockey imagines #philadelphia flyers imagine

147 notes · View notes

zhydoesart · 4 years

Text

ultimately i believe we’ll be okay

ships: romantic LAMP

word count: 2.4K

AO3

Summary: "It's so cliché to say these things, but repetition is a key / I think I'm better when I'm with you / But I worry when you're gone..." Being in his apartment alone gets to be too much for Patton. It gets to his head. But his boyfriends rush to the rescue, and while that doesn't fix everything, it does make Patton feel better.

the song lyrics used here are from a song called Ultimately by the artist Khai Dreams.

taglist: @moxiety-my-love @celeste-tyrrell @lavender-static @acompletemusicalnerd @treasureofpriam @bitteryjittery-andveryglittery @unicornofdarknessstuff @whispers-stuff-in-your-ear

Patton jumped, blinking as he resurfaced out of his thought-induced reverie. His phone vibrated a familiar pattern in his pocket, and despite having recognized said pattern, he still had to check the caller ID.

Virgil, it read. Patton smiled at the contact photo he'd chosen, a candid picture he'd taken of Virgil when the emo hadn't been looking. It was a pretty photo, and even though Virgil had raised a fuss, pouting as he demanded that Patton delete it, Patton had decided to keep it.

Although the picture was a little over a year old now.

He really needed more pictures of Virgil, huh?

"Agh, no," he said. "C'mon, Patton, don't get distracted! Answer the call, silly!" He swiped left.

Neither spoke right away, each waiting for the other to speak first. The only thing Patton could hear from his end was Virgil's slightly labored breathing.

"Hey, Virge?" he asked, concerned about the sound of the breathing and curious as to the reason for the call. "What's up? Something wrong?"

"I…" Virgil sighed. "I dunno. Sorry, I probably didn't need— didn't need to call you, I just needed— to, to hear your voice. It's stupid, I know. You know what, never mind."

"Wait!" Patton exclaimed, astonished. "Don't go, it's okay! You're not bothering me or anything, I promise." Virgil let out a relieved breath. "I was just thinking when you called, actually, I was feeling a bit lonely myself. With Roman out of town, and Logan staying with you…" Patton chuckled half-heartedly, deep blue eyes downcast.

"Speaking of," he changed the subject, "where is Logan? You wouldn't have called me if he were there, right?"

"That's not true," Virgil protested. "Although Logan is out right now, getting groceries, or whatever." There was a momentary silence as they each pondered what to would say.

"Do you need me to come over?"

"No, it's fine, Pat. You shouldn't have to go out of your way just to make me feel better. Besides, Logan'll be home soon."

Patton attempted to stifle first his disappointment that Virgil hadn't asked for him and second the irrational flash of jealousy and longing that came with Virgil referring to his and Logan's shared apartment as home.

None of them had a house big enough for their three boyfriends to move in, so for the moment, they were forced to split into pairs. One pair shared Patton's and Virgil's apartments at all times. Every so often (typically every few weeks), they'd shuffle around so they wouldn't have to miss each other for too long. That wasn't to say that they didn't practically live at each others' houses already, there simply wasn't enough space to live there full-time.

And now Roman had left town for a callback he was excited for. If he got the part, he'd be filming closer to home, but the callbacks took place in a studio a few hours away. It had only been a little over 24 hours now, but Patton had already begun to miss him. At the moment, Logan and Virgil were sharing Virgil's place while Roman stayed with Patton, but with Roman gone, Patton was all by himself.

Over the years, Patton had come to need constant validation to combat the self-deprecation and feelings of being alone that had come with his depression. Now, he could still receive that validation if he were to text Logan or Virgil, but he couldn't help the nagging sensation that he was bothering them.

"Patton?" Patton blinked, he'd been stuck in his own head again. Clearly Virgil had been talking, but Patton hadn't been listening.

"Sorry, Vee," he replied sheepishly. "I got distracted, I wasn't listening."

"Well, I was just saying that Logan's back now, so…" A rumble of a voice that was probably Logan's muttered something from next to Virgil, and Virgil agreed quietly. "Hey, Pat, I'm gonna give Lo the phone, okay?"

"Hello, Patton," greeted Logan warmly in his familiar dulcet tones, the kind of warmth that he reserved solely for his boyfriends, and Patton almost broke down right then. He took a shaky breath to steady himself before he could speak again.

"Hey, Logan." His voice cracked on the second syllable of his boyfriend's name, and Patton winced.

"Are you alright?" Patton grimaced. Logan sounded worried now, which meant he could tell something was up.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Patton wrung his hands, hoping the conversation would shift soon. "Nothing's wrong," he reiterated. Logan's silence was so pointed that Patton could practically hear his raised eyebrow.

Logan sighed, and Patton could imagine him running a hand absently through his smoothly gelled black hair. "If something was wrong, you would tell us, correct?"

"You know we won't judge," came Virgil's slightly muffled voice. "We've all been through some hard stuff, remember?"

"I… I don't know if I can…" Patton leaned against the counter top, suddenly feeling as if he couldn't get enough air.

"It's alright," Logan assured, and Patton could hear his smile, and suddenly it was too much.

He let out a strangled sob, clutching at his head.

"I… I'm sorry, I don't know what's— what's wrong," he said through tears, his chest heaving and eyes blurry.

"That's it." A clattering came from the other end of the line, almost as if someone had stood. "We're coming over there."

"No, no, you don't have to do— to do that," hiccuped Patton.

"Too late, we're coming!" said Virgil, sounding as though he was holding the phone once more. "Logan's gonna drive, I'm gonna stay on the line, okay? We'll be there in a few minutes, Patton."

Patton sniffled, smiling faintly through the tears that kept streaming down his cheeks. "Okay. See you soon."

Then there was the sound of, presumably, Logan and Virgil running down the stairs, which was unusual for Virgil and more so for Logan. Several doors slammed, and soon a car alarm beeped as said car unlocked.

"Hurry up, buckle up," snapped Logan briskly, and Virgil audibly dropped the phone (hopefully into his lap) as he fumbled with the buckle.

"Operation Cheer Up Patton is go, I guess," Virgil snorted into his phone. He lowered his voice. "Y'know, Logan is taking this very seriously. Of course, he doesn't know the name of the operation, but he started sprinting for the staircase before I'd even stood up!" Patton smiled; that he could imagine. While not a lot of things could motivate Logan to full-on sprint, his boyfriends were one of the few things that would.

"Whoa, shit!" Virgil swore with no warning. "Sorry, Pat, it's just— LOGAN! Jesus fucking Christ, slow down! At this rate, we're gonna crash!" He panted slightly. "Sorry, Patton. I know you don't like it when we swear, but now I know why we never let Logan drive! He drives like a maniac." Logan muttered something Patton couldn't hear. "Yeah, I don't care why we're speeding, Logan! I don't want to go to jail!"

"Virgil, what's going on?" Patton knew he sounded worried, but it didn't matter because he was.

"Sorry, Patton. I bet that was scary, me just yelling out of nowhere. It's okay, we're okay. Nothing happened. Logan's just a crazy driver, is all." The sounds of the car slowed, quieted, then came to a stop, probably as the car did. "Hey, we're here, we'll be right up."

Virgil didn't talk as he and Logan ascended in the elevator, but Patton listened quietly all the same. Right now he was latching onto the quiet sounds of his boyfriends' breathing as if for dear life.

The elevator dinged that familiar sound Patton had heard every day for years now, the sound that signaled that you'd reached your floor. Presumably, Logan and Virgil had stepped out.

"We're almost there," Virgil murmured into his phone. The sounds of… running?... soon started up again, stopping on the other side of Patton's door. "I'm here," he said as he opened the door, and Patton heard an echo for a moment until Virgil hung up the call.

Virgil was standing in his doorway, panting, face flushed, hair mussed, but Patton thought he had never seen anything more beautiful. Logan stood just behind him, face neutral as always, but the slight tilt to his eyebrows told Patton he was worried.

"Hey," Virgil said, a lopsided half-smile on his face. "You okay?"

Patton raised a hand to his face. He still seemed to be crying. "Better now you're here." He tried to laugh but it came out choked, and he wiped at his cheeks again.

Virgil hurried over to Patton, who still leaned on the counter to keep his balance. Logan soon followed, closing the door behind them as he approached. Virgil placed a gentle hand on Patton's face, using his thumb to further dry his face.

"What's wrong, Patton?" asked Logan. He took one of Patton's hands in both of his own and squeezed gently.

Patton sniffed. "I don't really know. It's the depression, I'm sure, but— I feel so alone sometimes, you know? Roman's gone and you're both staying at Virgil's, it's… hard for me."

Virgil was gazing at Patton like he was the only person in the universe, or the only one that mattered, anyway. His brown eyes were filled with such concern and compassion for Patton, and his hand felt pleasantly warm against Patton's skin.

On the other hand, Logan's gray-blue eyes were searching for something within Patton's own ocean blues, his hands colder than Patton's, but not unpleasantly so.

"Honey, that's not true." Logan lifted Patton's hand up to his mouth and very lightly brushed his lips against the back of Patton's hand. Patton barely suppressed the shiver that threatened to run down his spine. "You're not alone, I promise."

"You know you can talk to us," interjected Virgil, stressing the last three words. "You're not a bother, I worry about that too! It's alright, sunshine." His brows furrowed as he thought. "Why don't you stay with us until Roman gets back?"

"There's not enough space," argued Patton.

"We'll make space," Logan said firmly. "This matters to you, and therefore it matters to us."

"Okay," Patton said. He'd stopped crying, and he wiped at the last of the tears with the sleeves of his cat hoodie. He seemed vulnerable, and Virgil couldn't help but wrap his arms around his boyfriend. Soon he felt Logan's arms wrap around the both of them as well.

"Why don't we cuddle?" suggested Logan quietly into Patton's hair. The black-haired man usually didn't initiate contact, so this was a rare opportunity and they took him up on it immediately.

Patton's bed was warm and covered in a million pillows. Virgil shoved a few to the side so they could lie down. Patton positioned himself directly in between his boyfriends, tugging them closer to him.

"Is this helping?" asked Virgil.

Patton thought. "You know what, I think it is." He squeezed Virgil's hand and buried his face in Logan's chest. "It doesn't quite make up for Roman not being here, but it sure does help."

Something clattered in another room, and Patton frowned, sitting up to listen. He held a finger to his lips, and Virgil sat up to join him.

Keys jangled, and Patton stood slowly. Who could be in their apartment?

He crept over to the door, peering out cautiously—and was met with a welcome sight. That windswept brown hair, those bright green eyes; there was only one person it could've been.

"Roman?" slipped out of his mouth, and Roman turned to look at him, expression a little guilty.

"I'm back early. I meant to surprise you, mi alma." Patton loved that familiar lopsided grin of Roman's.

"How'd it go?"

Roman beamed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I got the part! They loved me!" Patton barreled towards him, throwing himself into Roman's arms, and Roman spun him around before setting him down. Their laughs met in the air, Roman's deep, hearty chuckle intermingling with Patton's higher giggle.

"You did it! I'm so proud of you, and I missed you," Patton murmured into Roman's lips, eyes closed.

Logan and Virgil now stood in the doorway, watching with loving eyes.

"We were just having a cuddle puddle. What do you say, Ro? Wanna join?" Virgil asked nonchalantly.

"Duh," was Roman's only response. "I'd never skip out on a cuddle puddle. But I've got an even better idea than doing it in bed." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Patton playfully smacked his arm. "Why don't we bring the blankets and pillows out here? Make a fort? Watch some movies?"

"That is acceptable," replied Logan, but the corners of his mouth had curled up.

"Yeah, sure," shrugged Virgil.

"That sounds great, let's do it!" exclaimed Patton happily, blue eyes glimmering excitedly.

It's possible that Patton jumpscared Logan by hiding in a closet while they were looking for pillows. And maybe Virgil tripped several times on the same leg of the couch on the way to and from the living room. Perhaps Roman and Virgil ended up arguing over who should get the Lilo & Stitch pillow.

It was a joint effort to position the couches so that they could drape several blankets over it. Logan and Roman pushed one couch while Patton and Virgil took the other. Out of the four of them, Roman worked out the most and was the most outwardly buff, but Patton, despite his lack of height and cuddly appearance, was also deceptively strong, as they'd learned when he'd taken to picking them up to princess-carry his boyfriends around their apartments.

Once the blanket fort was in place, Patton stood back to survey their work. Roman, on the other hand, didn’t wait even a moment to lie down, and Logan shook his head in mock exasperation before the other three joined him.

Patton ended up in the technical “center” of their cuddle puddle, although with four of them it was hard to tell where the center was. Still, amidst their tangled limbs, Patton felt safe there, with the three loves of his life.

Having his boyfriends with him certainly didn’t make his depression go away—nothing could do that, Patton had to heal—but it definitely helped to quiet the nasty little voice in his head that told him he wasn’t worth loving. Like this, with the fire in the fireplace and the sounds of Moana starting to play, embraced in his boyfriends’ arms, he could pretend he was all better. And for now, that’s really all Patton can do.

#sanders sides #ts fanfic #ts lamp #patton angst #ts sides #ts fic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fic #patton sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #ts patton #ts virgil #ts logan #ts roman

93 notes · View notes

talldecafcappuccino · 3 years

Text

Title: Between Close Friends

Rating: General Audience

Chapters: 1/1

Relationship: Ted Lasso/Rebecca Welton

Summary: Ted is bad at social media, but is that a bad thing?

Ted, what the fuck are you doing????

Ted peers at his phone, rubbing sleep from his eyes and reads the message again.

He scrolls down and sees he has twelve more texts and three missed calls all from Keeley Jones. He turns off his nighttime notifications with a few exceptions for emergency contacts, so it’s not surprising he slept through the messages.

He scratches at the stubble along his cheek and checks his clock. It’s seven o’clock here in Kansas, so it must be . . . early afternoon in London. He thinks through the last day, but he can’t remember anything interesting enough to have Keeley on the case.

Henry came over to his extended-stay hotel, they went to an American football game, got a late dinner in downtown Wichita, and watched a movie before bed.

They did make it on the Jumbotron for the Lasso-off, the team’s half-time dance contest, but his moves weren’t especially embarrassing. At least not in his opinion. Unless one of the moves was actually an insult to the English in which case, oh jeeze, he needs to get on this quick.

The call barely connects before Keeley’s voice echoes in his ear.

“Oy! Ted!”

“Keeley, I am so sorry for whatever I did to offend the great people of the United Kingdom. I am ready to make a statement and an apology tour as soon as you tell me which dance move I need to retire immediately.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I need you to log out of the AFC Richmond Instagram account. Like, now.”

That stops Ted in his tracks.

Does he even have access to that? He remembers a post-it note of accounts and passwords from Beard on their first day with Richmond.

There was an account run by the previous manager, but Keeley had taken it over long ago, converting it to the official team account. She had also made Ted a personal Instagram for his own use and brand development, but he never posted publicly.

He puts her on speaker phone and opens the Instagram app. She’s right. He’s logged into the team account with all 25 million followers. Well, shoot.

There are about a dozen stories posted from last night. All of Ted and Henry’s day together. There’s puns (“having a cow” at dinner with an image of Henry holding up a beef rib and screaming his head off), Ted and Henry singing at a dueling piano bar, the two brushing their teeth together in the bathroom mirror.

“No offense, but I think this may delay the Tom Ford deal you asked me about.”

“Yeah. I get that.”

“It’s just, you know, dads aren’t quite their brand. Or our brand. I mean we’re not anti-dorky dad, but you know with the whole comeback narrative during the season hiatus . . .”

“No I get it. You’ve put a lot of work into rebranding this team and I just undermined that.”

She sighs, but it’s fond.

“Sorry, Ted. It’s not like what you posted was bad, it’s rather sweet actually. It’s just a little different from the posts I had scheduled.”

Ted nodded. It wasn’t the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to him, but he felt bad for making Keeley’s job harder than it needed to be.

“No, I’m sorry Keeley. I swear, it won’t happen again.”

****

“Can you believe what Ted did last night? I’ve never seen someone so bad at social media.”

Rebecca has no idea what Keeley is talking about when she walks into her office. She flops onto the couch, feet splayed on the coffee table, clearly exhausted by whatever Ted has done from 4,438 miles away.

“So many puns. Which, don't get me wrong, I love word play more than most people. But I don’t think it’s right for the team right now.”

Rebecca shuts her laptop.

“You’re right about puns not being part of the team plan, but what’s this about Ted? What did he do, exactly?”

Ted hasn’t posted anything in at least 24 hours. Not that Rebecca is keeping track.

“Oh he managed to switch to the team account on Instagram and posted about his entire evening out with Henry. It was quite sweet, actually. The ones that made sense,” but then she pulled a face.”He’s like, really, really bad at social media.”

Oof. Well that isn’t great, but Rebecca doesn’t think there’s anything particularly terrible about Ted’s social media use normally.

“But everything seems under control? No big PR actions needed.”

“It’s fine. I had him log out and wrote a post about Coach Lasso’s surprise social media takeover from America.”

Rebecca nods. Okay, so it was all sorted. Keeley has things totally under control.

But she reaches for her phone anyway. She opens Instagram, taps through the AFC Richmond stories, and snorts at the image of Henry with the rib as big as his head.

“Are people at least being kind?” Rebecca hopes Ted logged out without seeing any messages about Henry. Not that she could see any reason for it, but people were shitheads on the internet.

“Well, wanker is still the most common response. But many of them are wanker with a little heart at the end, so I think it’s fine. We actually got a lot of responses, proper engagement and all that,” she looks up at the ceiling, considering it for a moment before rolling her head to look back at Rebecca.

“If we weren’t trying to present the team as a badass phoenix rising from the ashes, I’d say a Ted takeover isn’t a bad idea. He just needs some supervision. Maybe a phone with a better camera.”

Rebecca is only half listening as she taps to the next story.

“Aw, they went to dueling piano night. That must have been fun for Henry.”

She’s smiling at her phone when Keeley asks, “Dueling piano night?”

“Yeah, you know at Jim Bob’s Bar.”

Keeley is looking at her blankly.

“Fine. I know it’s not really Jim Bob’s bar. It’s probably not even a bar if Henry’s there. But I can’t remember the real name off the top of my head.”

She’d looked it up once, after Ted first posted about the dueling pianos. For some reason she started calling it Jim Bob’s. Ted didn’t seem bothered and had even started calling it that himself.

When she looks up again, Keeley is staring at her, eyes narrowed.

“What are you talking about?”

“What do you mean?”

“How do you know so much about some bar in Kansas?”

That gives Rebecca pause. She isn’t sure what Keeley means by the line of questioning.

“It’s not some totally random bar. Ted posts about it whenever he goes for dueling pianos.”

If he gets to the bar early or she has a particularly late evening, Rebecca catches the story before going to bed. When she does, she always asks him to put in $5 for Wannabee by the Spice Girls. She owes him a small fortune by now, but it’s worth it to see the bar explode with cheers and jeers.

Some nights she misses the story, but he puts money in anyways and she wakes up to a shaky video of, Yo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want.

Rebecca thinks this is a good enough explanation, but Keeley is still staring at her.

“I’ve literally no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Keeley, you know social media is not my thing. All I know is that sometimes Ted posts about this bar on his tiny friends list thing,” she waves her hand around, trying her best to describe it. “The one with the green ring around it.”

Keeley leaps to her feet, eyes wide.

“Am I not on Ted’s Close Friends list??”

Before Rebecca can say a word, Keeley is halfway out the door, texting furiously.

“Roy, better not be on there, if I’m not on there. Ted knows how I feel about being left out!” she shouts over her shoulder. “Sorry Rebecca, I need to do some investigating, asap.”

Oof. She may have just created a problem. It’s probably best to give Ted a heads up before Keeley gets through interrogating Roy.

She drafts a text once, twice, then deletes it and presses call instead.

“Hey Boss, let me guess. Keeley got a hold of you?”

It’s been a while since they’ve chatted, what with the time difference. It’s bizarre how familiar his American accent has become.

“She just left my office, yes.”

There’s a loud crack in the background and a metal clang.

“Where are you?”

“Oh, just the batting cages with Henry,” he says, cheering loudly. “Hey, do you guys have a sport called baseball that has nothing to do with American baseball? You know, like football and football?”

She chuckles, “I don’t believe we do. However there is always cricket.”

He hums, considering it.

“Now Ted, I think there’s something you should know.”

“Lay it on me Boss. I know I caused a headache this morning, what’s the damage? What do you need me to do? I am at your disposal or I’ll lay really, really low as long as you need me to.”

“It’s not that Ted. It’s Keeley.”

“Keeley?”

“Yes, she’s on a bit of a mission at the moment. It seems you left her off your Close Friends list? I think that’s right. On Instagram?”

“Huh. How did that come up?”

“I was telling her about Jim Bob’s. Apparently she had never heard of it and realized you had a whole social media life she was unaware of.”

“Right . . .”

“So do what you will with that.”

“You haven’t talked to anyone else about this yet, have you?”

Rebecca is confused by this new direction.

“No. Why? Ted, is something wrong?”

It takes a long moment for Ted to respond.

“What can I say, I’m just really bad at this social media stuff.”

It's a non-response and an overly folksy one at that. But Rebecca can’t be fooled by the aw shucks routine—not anymore. She tries again.

“Ted. Who is on your close friends list?”

“Uh. Not a lot of people.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“What can I say?” He huffs, a little frustrated. She would feel bad for prying, but she can't help herself. “The list of people I want to share silly life things with is small.”

“How small?” she wonders.

“Very small.”

The line goes silent and Rebecca swears she lost him. But then she hears him take a deep breath.

“It’s you. You’re the list.”

Rebecca feels flush. That’s not where she was expecting this conversation to go.

“I know that might be a lot. You don’t have to say anything. I just, that’s the honest truth and I’d like to get ahead of it before Keeley harangues the entire team.”

It’s a lot to take in, but it makes sense. Sometimes when she’s watching his posts, she wonders about his audience. Who else cares about his biscuit recipe improvements or Broadway Sundays (a recent development that’s turned into a shared movie night.)

“Rebecca?”

She realizes she’s been quiet for a while. The moment feels tenuous and she worries about saying the wrong thing, sending him running faster than Keeley during a social media snafu.

Finally she settles on, “You know, you’re welcome to text me silly life things. It wouldn’t be a bother.”

She brushes invisible crumbs from her desk, listening carefully to his breathing on the other end of the line.

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Maybe I can send some, too?”

Rebecca can hear his smile from across the Atlantic.

“Well, alright then.”

****

That night, Ted’s phone pings and he rolls over to see a text message from Rebecca. It’s a picture of the sun rising over her garden wall.

Something silly to start the day.

But it doesn’t feel silly. Not at all.

#ted lasso #ted lasso fic #some fluff #because a plot bunny got in the way of what I planned to write this weekend #I blame the Easter bunny #ted x rebecca

3 notes · View notes

icecoldflames · 4 years

Text

Burned Out (Sanders Sides)

This is a self-insert if I ever did see one. I used Dodie’s song “Burned Out”.

Human AU

University AU

Warnings: loss of motivation, sad feelings in general

***

He was certain

So was I

There was comfort in her sighs,

Dreams and ideas should not be the same thing

You waited smiling for this

Oh, she'd want it

If she knew

She could take it,

I thought too

Be careful be cautious, but you just wished harder

You waited smiling for this

Logan sat in the dark of his room, his curtains drawn shut to block out the full moon outside. His lights were off, his computer on, and his glass empty. His cursor blinked at him as his eyes followed the letters of his title--an essay on “The Murder of Roger Ackroyd”.

He made no move to start writing. All he had done was the standard MLA format his professor wanted and the title of his five paged essay due in 24 hours.

Logan was thirsty and, for the thousandth time, picked up his empty glass, hoping to get even a tiny drop of water into his dry mouth. He couldn’t do his work. He couldn’t even get up to fill his glass with water.

But they love you, over and over

They love you

Thousands and thousands of eyes just like mine

Aching to find who they are

Oh they love you

Oh you can feel how they love you

Coated and warm, but that's all they can do

Words only get through if they're sharp

Logan glanced at his bedroom wall, filled with high school and middle school awards for math, science, and English.

“Logan Sanders is destined for greatness”, his local newspaper had written with a picture of him on his high school stage, giving his valedictorian speech. That article seemed permanently stuck to the fridge with its pristine edges and smooth paper. He wanted to rip it up into a million tiny pieces and never see it again.

“His work ethic is immaculate”, his math teacher had told his parents on parent teacher night last year. “He will excel in university, no doubt about it.” What if they all knew he was atrocious at studying and only crammed the night before? He had coasted through all 13 years of his schooling and never once managed to get the work ethic or study skills needed for university.

Logan took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He thought of his parents, currently fast asleep in their bedroom, and couldn’t get the image of them crying at his graduation, their eyes shining with pride. What if they knew about his math mid-term grade he had been hiding for weeks now?

Oh how fitting for one so fake

Make me a fairy whatever it takes

And just like her tale my dream was a scam

You waited smiling for this

I am burnt out I smell of smoke it seeps through her cracks and so I start to choke

Sentences sit in her mouth that are templated

You waited smiling for this

Logan only managed to heave himself out of his chair when his bladder was about to burst.

Washing his hands, he looked at himself in the mirror and saw tears running down his face. He hadn't even remember when he had begun to cry. He quickly looked down, avoiding his red-ringed eyes and left the bathroom in a rush. “I’m fine,” he muttered to himself.

Only when he sat back down again did he realise he could have brought his glass to the bathroom to fill it up. Logan wanted to scream. Instead, he gripped his pencil and snapped it in two. It felt oddly therapeutic.

But they love you, over and over

They love you

Thousands and thousands of eyes just like mine

Aching to find who they are

Oh they love you

Oh you can feel how they love you

Coated and warm, but that's all they can do

Words only get through if they're sharp

Logan picked up his phone and, his thumb, on autopilot, almost swiped over and clicked the blue Twitter app. He had to physically restrain his brain from tapping it.

Instead, he redirected his thumb to the messages app and he opened Roman’s contact. He stared at the tiny profile picture he had of him. It was taken the day of graduation and Roman had tipped his graduation hat down to reveal the glittery rainbow he had painted on it a couple nights before.

How Logan wished he could be like Roman. Roman had known exactly what he wanted to be when he grew up--an actor. And so, Roman went into acting school. Roman had something to look forward to. He had something that kept him going.

And what did Logan have? The only reason he went to university was because everyone expected him to. He hadn’t even chosen a major yet. He was just doing general courses. Everyone expected him to choose something in STEM and they all had the same reaction when Logan told them he was just doing general courses to “keep his options open”.

And, even if he did have a goal in mind, would that change anything? Or would it make failure even worse?

Maybe I'll talk about it

I can just talk about it

I'll never talk about it

No, I cannot talk about it

Logan began typing out a message to Roman. Are you awake? He deleted it. Of course Roman wasn’t awake--Roman didn’t suffer from insomnia like he did. Roman slept like a baby.

How did your date go? Backspace again. Too casual for a time like this. Who even asked that question at three in the morning?

I feel exhausted and want to curl up in a ball for the rest of eternity. Oh hell no. Logan aggressively hit the backspace button again, turned off his phone, and threw it onto his bed next to him.

Don't build hope on something broken

I am not cartoon

Cry for help, I am not joking

I might just leave soon.

Logan spent another hour staring at his computer, doing absolutely nothing. He scrolled through Twitter, did some research on the black plague that was purely recreational, and came up with a whole new Sherlock Holmes book in his head.

By the time four o’clock rolled around, Logan decided to turn in for the night. He quickly checked his calendar and barely managed to process he had a 9:30am class the next morning.

He rolled out of his chair and onto his bed. He could feel something jabbing into his side. It took him a moment to realise it was his phone he had thrown over earlier but made no move to pick it up or change his position.

His door creaked open and his cat padded into the room. It jumped up on the bed and laid down across Logan’s chest. The pressure felt nice--like his cat was a weighted blanket.

He fell asleep to the sound of his and his cat’s heartbeat.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #logan sanders

7 notes · View notes

illusionlock · 5 years

Text

pazam: a mess, truly a mess

so i usually dont do these kind of posts, i guess you could say its a call out of some sort? but i never liked that word, i prefer rather to just compile sources on WHY people would believe that a certain person is not truly as nice and understanding as they seem. consider this more of a psa post, detailing on whats going on with pazam on the sfm community, why so many people are against them.

So, a while back, tumblr user jymble made a post on the main tag stating that pazam was transphobic. they linked back to this post, which contains screenshots of pazam in a group chat stating that they do not feel comfortable with the idea of trans people. now, this did happen 9 months ago, true. however, for the record, pazam is already an adult, 24 years old, so they should have some tact. and as further and more recent events will show, they actually havent changed that much at all, at least not as they claim.

the screenshots should be in the post, but here is a transcript

[Screenshot one]

Pazam:

What????? Why?????

I literally HAVE NOT been doing ANYTHING malicious to them

And if it did I apologized

Yes I do have discomfort about them but I keep it to myself

Why are you doing this????

[End screenshot one]

‘Them’ here refers to trans people in general. Notice the defensive and victimizing stance they almost immediately take upon being confronted about their feelings on trans people.

[Screenshot two]

elliott:

of COURSE you dont

sammaku:

Like specifically

Elliott hush

Pazam:

This whole concept of transness and changing your gender physically

I hate to say it again but it weirds me out and it makes me question my own gender which flings me into anxiety, depression, and obsession

sammaku:

Its fine to not understand but are you willing to learn about it

Pazam:

I don’t want to talk about this anymore

sammaku:

That depression anxiety and obsession just comes with gender issues

(the rest of the text is cut off)

[End Screenshot two]

notice once summaku asks them if they would at least be willing to learn about it, pazam immediately deflects it by saying they dont want to talk about it anymore.

[Screenshot three]

Pazam:

Seriously??? That’s all it takes????

Wow I’m a moron

I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused to you

@.aziraphale @.elliott @.sammaku

I just don’t get this stuff period

And I’ve gotten into trouble with this stuff before

I’ll probably never understand it for the rest of my life but I’ll try to be more tactful around y’all

Especially since you’re all young

And I’m like an adult

[End screenshot three]

While at first this would seem like they had finally learned their lesson and apologized, the things they add on after the @s become quickly worrying. Not only do they admit to ‘have gotten into trouble with this stuff before’, meaning they have probably shown their transphobia in other places and been called out, but they also stand firmly on the fact that they will never understand it or ‘get’ it.

And of course, as jymble points out, the implication that the people they were talking to were only acting like that because they were young.

A while after this post was made, Pazam had posted an apology, and went onto contact jymble asking for the post with the evidence of their transphobic to be taken down. The reason? They were afraid people would see it and think they were still transphobic and not give them a chance.

In this more recent post, you can see the conversation play out between Pazam and jymbles. Long story short, Pazam feels that it’s unfair that that post is still up after they apologized, and jymble of course said they would rather not take it down, people deserve to know what they did and take their own conclusions, even if that involves avoiding them. How does Pazam respond? By flat out deleting the apology post. I’d love to show the apology post to give you both sides of the story but I cannot anymore, because Pazam in a very bizarre move just deleted it because they got mad a trans blogger wouldn’t take down their post with proof.

Here’s the transcript of the screenshots:

[Begin Conversation]

rebloggidy (Pazam’s personal):

I’m by no means transphobia-free after learning what I’ve done but at least I know my actions and am making an effort to be a better person towards trans people.

rebloggidy:

Hi again. So I hate to be that person but would it be ok if you took down that post about the transphobia claims? I know it took me 9 months to apologize but if people only see your side of the story and not realize the post I saw they’ll take it out of context and still think I’m transphobic. Do you understand?

jymble:

... i already told you im not taking down the post.

[jymble sends a screenshot of her own message in a previous conversation, the screenshot reads as follows:

however, i dont think im taking the post down, nor am i entirely comfortable with you interacting with me either. people deserve to know how you acted with this stuff, until youre really and truly *better* with it instead of just trying, and i was a direct target of it]

jymble:

you oughright told me "im by no means transphobia-free", word for word sorry, but i told you before. im not taking the post down.

rebloggidy:

I remember that. But what I'm trying to say to you is that if people who read it out of context will immediately think I'm still transphobic without the other side of it (my comment)

And I don't want people to think that in the future

jymble:

if people make assumptions without looking at the entire situation, thats on them

i am not deleting the post and thats final. people have a right to know what youve done, and they have a right to be uncomfortable

rebloggidy:

I'm ready to take down my post because frankly, I'm sick and tired of having to justifiy something that I did 9 months ago, and that people grow and learn even not 100% during that time and I'm ready to move on.

I'm still into smile for me and feel free to make a blacklist of my name so anybody who rbs my work on your dash can have it hidden or something.

Take care.

[End conversation]

a lot to unpack here, but perhaps most notable is when jymble simply stands her ground and tells pazam she wont take down the post, pazam straight up decides, without being told to or anything, that they should take down their apology. later on, they made a post stating why they deleted the post, and saying they had ‘been forced to’.

I also would love to link it here, but as of now of writing this, like, not even an hour or so after I had seen that post, it got deleted. The only memory I have of it is a conversation I had with my boyfriend about Pazam, in which I copypasted a fragment from that post that read:

“ So for those wondering where the apology post went, I was forced to delete it. I wanted to archive it in some way so I could pull it up for reference, but there was no way I could. Also I didn’t really want to see it every time on my blog because quite honestly it’s upsetting to look at.”

There are some lies and twisting of truths here. Pazam wasn’t forced to delete it, they decided they should do it as a way to somehow get back at jymble. And the excuse that it was upsetting for them to look at is just inexcusable, what matters most, letting people know of what youve done and that youre sorry, or just never addressing the situation?

But, well, I’m just hoping you’ll take my word for it. As you see, Pazam has officially deleted ANY traces of acknowledging this situation on their blog.

This worries me. If Pazam is truly as concerned that they will be seen as transphobic as they claim, why are they deleting anything that could give them a chance of showing their own side of the story?

Now, that is the end, for now, of Pazam’s history with transphobia. However! It is not the end for some other very shady things.

Namely, Pazam has consistently whitewashed characters from Smile For Me, specially Kamal, and when called out on it, simply deletes the asks.

Want to know how I know this?

I sent them an ask myself. I had come across this picture of Boris and Kamal:

And I knew that this wasn’t right. I can understand using light colors and doing watercolor, but if they can make Boris’ hair brown and vivid enough, why not Kamal? He looks like another character completely, or like he’s deathly sick!

So I sent them an anonymous ask, perhaps a bit exhasperated, true, and my wording could be better. It went something like: “i am begging you to draw kamal with darker skin”.

I waited, checked. But nothing came of it. They never answered it.

Pazam flat out ignored when they were told they had drawn a canonically brown man with skin way too light. Not even a lone text post saying ‘hey anon, i dont agree with you’ or ‘hey anon im sorry it wont happen again’. Nothing. No word, no opinion.

And with this situation going on with them evading responsibility, I can’t say I’m fully surprised.

And, yet another thing. People had expressed concern over the fact they had drawn their Flower Kid, who is 17, in very intimate and close positions with Dr. Habit. It included nuzzling faces, cuddling in bed together, wearing his coat...

And they did hear the claims this time. As of now, their Flower Kid is 24, according to them.

Except... They do not look 24. At. All.

this is a 12 year old. at best. short body, stubby legs, big head. those are all attributes of a very young character, usually children. like, legitimately, thats how childrens anatomy is in real life. the younger the person, the bigger their head is in proportion to their body.

We have already had an adult trying to justify drawing their flower kid who barely looked like an adult if at all in intimate situations with Habit. Let’s not let it slide by again.

And yes, I’m aware Pazam claims that those pictures were not supposed to be interpreted as romantic, ‘only platonic fluff’ and that they intend to keep it that way, but I have talked to my boyfriend who is a survivor and he said it very well could be a case of someone just trying to cover their tracks.

BUT, all that being said, maybe this one particular instance could be just us being wary. Still, it does not diminish all that they have done, specially ignoring the whitewashing claims.

What you are going to do with this information, I do not know. Maybe you don’t care and will keep reblogging their content. Maybe you’re disgusted by them. But I’m just here to give you the facts. Personally though, I’m not willing to give them much of a chance after the way they’ve behaved. They are 24 years old, three years older than me, and I think I could do a better job of handling a situation like this, frankly.

#don't be scared. i am here with you.#smile for me #smile for me game

148 notes · View notes

conant21 · 4 years

Text

Heart of Iron

So not only is this the longest of the chapters so far but also the hardest to write. No worries thought because I had lots of fun writing this one. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. i am hoping to get the next chapter out before the new year, but I have a special surprise on Christmas for you all so stay put!!

Prologue: the beginning Chapter 1: Ophelia Chapter 2: Viper

Chapter 3: Insight

January 9th, 2014 Washington DC

The sound of boots could be heard in the bank vault as lab techs continued to work. Looking up from her file’s Y/N noticed Rumlow walking towards her. Looking back down his gruff voice called out; “We have a problem, Pierce wants you to send the Asset with a team to take Fury out. He knows something is wrong with Insight.” “Last time I checked our presence was to remain undetected. So why can’t you take Fury out?” “And last time I checked when the boss gives orders you follow them or are, we going to have a problem Viper?” Huffing and rolling your eyes you replied, “No it will be done.” Sparing one last glance at Rumlow you got up walking towards the cryo pod station. Nodding at the doctors they began to start the processes of waking the Winter Soldier. As the screams began you turned away otherwise, they would see the compassion you had for the Soldier. A doctor came to tell you he was ready for orders. The orders that you had to give made you sick to your stomach. There he set, staring blankly ahead. “готов соблюдать”

It is done. Fury is dead. The only person with the power to clear your name was gone. You stood hidden in the hospital where he was taken after James had shot him. From all the activity you knew he was alive when he arrived but as you saw Captain Rogers leave the building you knew he had to be gone. Opening the door in which his body was held you noticed he was absent. The sound the door closing had you spinning on your heal, gun raised at the source. Maria Hill stood arms crossed staring at you. “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes Stark” Smiling you lowered your gun, putting it back in your waistband, “Can’t complain here. Is there somewhere we can talk?” she nodded, “Meet me in the loading area, make sure no one is following you we don’t want you to blow your cover, yet,” with one last glance she left the room. You waited a few minutes before leaving; walking through the guarded halls unnoticed to the back entrance of the hospital. In the loading bay stood a black unmarked SUV with Hill in the driver’s seat. Once you got in and closed the door, she sped off into the night. “No one followed you right?” “Yes Hill no one followed me. Trust me I would know” you replied looking out the window despondently. “Good. I am taking you to a safehouse that only 4 people know about including you and it needs to stay that way. I am assuming you being at the hospital means you know something about the assassination order?” “I was the one who orchestrated it.” Hill quickly looked away from the road with her eyebrows raised noticing you staring blankly at the passing traffic. The rest of the journey to her safehouse was spent in silence; both agents wondering if they could trust one another. Pulling up to an old bunker of some sort both agents got out of the van Hill finally spoke up “This is to stay between us no one can know” “of course” “Good he will want to see you.” You froze shocked watching her form enter the bunker. Rushing to catch up she took you towards a makeshift medical room with plastic sheets helping to keep the room sterile. In the bed laid Director Fury, still alive.

“The man I would haven taken a bullet for is the one to have called for my death. See this is why I have trust issues,” exclaimed Fury from his bed you were sitting next too. “You do understand what this means Sir, that HYDRA has been within SHIELD this whole time. I am so sorry I could not get the information to you earlier, but I was afraid the line had been compromised.” Hill spoke up from across the room, “Do you know what Project Insight is?” “All I know is that its going to kill anyone HYDRA deems a threat which is millions of innocent people.” Hill and Fury exchanged a look, “Well it need to be terminated before it’s launched” Fury said. “I can’t help you without burning my cover, what about Natasha and Captain Rogers, can’t they help stop the helicarriers?” “No, they don’t know about the director still being alive yet or about our HYDRA mole” Hill replied. “And it’s to remain that way until we no longer need the intelligence that you can provide. I need you to keep tabs on Pierce until we stop Project Insight. Romanoff and Rogers can’t know my knowledge of HYDRA being in SHIELD or that he oversees the whole thing. You are to keep in contact, and I will give you a rendezvous once HYDRA is thwarted. Until then continue cover,” spoke Fury. Standing up and turning to follow Hill out you stopped and looked Fury in the eyes. “Sir there is one more thing that you should know. The Winter Solider is Sargent James Buchanan Barnes, Captain Rogers old friend. I understand this could be a problem in the coming conflict, he doesn’t know who he is. I do however have a rapport with him that could help but, if Rogers is to find out it would not be good.” Sighing Fury nodded his head heavily at you. With one last look you went back to the only world you know.

It had been 24 hours since the orders had been given for Fury’s death and James had been out of cryo. HYDRA was looking for Rogers and Natasha, it’s only a matter of time till either you or James are to be called in. Walking into the makeshift cell that housed James you dismissed the guards standing watch, you entered. There on his cot he set watching as you made your way towards him. Keeling down in front of him you pretended to scan his arm for issues you spoke in a soft voice that only he could hear “I found a way for us to escape hydra. I need you to trust me though.” James turned to look softly in your eyes. “I know we have talked about it before but this time I know we can make it.” You looked into his eyes as he leaned his head down so that both of your foreheads were touching. “они накажут вас, если нас снова поймают.” “I know but don’t we owe it to ourselves to try?” you turned away from him, looking at the cinder blocked wall. Silent tears came running down your face. “I can’t leave you behind…I just can’t.” You could feel the coldness of his metal hand as he moved your head, so you were once again looking into each other’s eyes. A soft rumbling came from his chest as he spoke. “тогда попробуем, но, если дело доходит до нас двоих, я всегда буду выбирать вас.” Just as you were about to reply James resumed his original position faster than you could blink. The sound of boots reached your ears and you frantically removed any trace of sorrow from your face. James continued to stare straight ahead as Rumlow called for you to join him. Giving James one last look she turned on her heel to follow Rumlow out. “We need your help to run point with the security council. Pierce is having them flown in and wants you there when things go down. I am getting the asset ready to hunt down Cap and the Widow. He was last seen with Zola and Pierce is pissed that he had to destroy Zola,” he spoke leading you out towards cars that would take you to the Triskelion.

You stood off to the side as the council members began to file in to the meeting room. The only female council member made eye contact with you, the message you had sent to Fury had gone through now all you could do was wait. Once Captain Rogers had finished his speech you knew it was time. Filing in after the other strike members you watched as Natasha took them down. As one began to sneak up behind her you pulled you gun out of its holster and shot him once in the head. “I am sorry did I step on your moment” replied Nat as she removed her disguise. Looking at her then at you Pierce snapped “Well aren’t we full of surprises today. How long have you been with SHIELD?” “Since the beginning,” pulling your gun from its holster you pointed it at Pierce you watched as Nat started the process of dumping SHIELD and HYDRA’s secrets onto the internet. “It’s going to take two alpha level members to get past the encryption for that information” “Don’t worry company is on it way.” The sound of a helicopter could be heard. Looking out the window you watched as Fury got out and walked towards the doors. “Did you get my flowers?” Fury, ignoring Pierce, continued to walk towards the screen displaying all of shields secrets. You pushed Pierce forward; gun still trained on his back. “We deleted your credentials after you died Nick.” Fury turned to face Pierce and slowly moving his eye-patch over his eye, “In order to stay ahead of me Mr. Secretary you’re going to have to keep both eyes open.” Nat moved forward with her gun pointed at him as well. You both shared a look of mutual understanding, he would not be leaving this room alive. Once the files were upload on the internet it was time to leave before the helicarriers destroyed the surrounding area. As you turned to Fury the sound of the remaining council members crying out in agony sounded in your ears. Nat, Fury, and you had your guns on Pierce in an instant. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. One movement and I put a hole through her sternum.” Fury exchanged a look with Nat and turned to you nodding his head. You bother lowered your weapons. The crashing sound of the helicarriers firing on one another could be heard from within the room. “What a waste, come on council women this way. You are going to fly me out of here,” Pierce began to shuffle Nat towards the helipad doors. “You know there was a time I would have taken a bullet for you,” Fury replied trying to stall for time. As Pierce turned to reply; Nat activated one of her Widow’s Bites, electricity surged through her body disarming the device. Both Fury and you fired one shot into the Secretary. With that shot you were finally free from HYDRA.

January 15th, 2014

The sun shined brightly down on the cemetery. You stood back as Fury went to talk to Rogers and Wilson about joining the two of you to hunt down rouge HYDRA agents. “You know your dad never shuts up about you.” You turn your head to see Natasha walking towards you. “Well some things never change,” you smiled. “Imagine my surprise when Fury told me who you are. I don’t know if you know but a few years back I had to go undercover to look after your dad and in his file, it said you had died in a car crash. I guess Fury gave the idea?” “No, it was my idea. I wanted to be able to be an agent with out him having to worry. Before my grandfather died, he used to tell me stories of SHIELD and I guess they never went away.” Nodding Natasha looked over to the boys talking, “Are you ever going to tell him that your alive? He has a right to know.” “Mm, I know it’s just I don’t think he would ever forgive me for lying and part of me doesn’t want him too. I put him through so much pain.” A calmness settled over the two of you as Fury walked away from the two solders towards the two of you. “Well if you ever need anything you know where to look. Oh, and your secret safe with me,” Natasha smiled walking away to have her turn to talk to the boys. Fury spoke up, “You might want to make introductions with Rogers, they might need your help looking for Barnes. I’ll be in the car it seems Agent Coulson needs our help so make it quick,” he walked away before you could reply. Sighing you made your way over to the two men. “I want to tank you for your help with hydra. We wouldn’t have been able to do it with out you Miss..?” Steve’s voice carried over to you. “Y/N Stark, and you would have been fine without me,” you smiled at his shocked expression. “Stark? I thought Tony didn’t have any siblings and his daughter is dead.” “Well I wouldn’t believe all that you hear Captain. I’m his daughter and I would prefer if we could keep that between us.” Both Steve and Wilson exchanged a look before nodding. “I came over not to tell you my story, but I am but to help your search. I don’t know if Fury told you, but James trained me, and I have a more personal connection with him. If you ever need my help you call me.” You pulled a card from you pocket with a burner phones number written on it. Steve looked down at the card “Personal?” “Well hydra isn’t all sadness and torture.” Sam snorted “I like her.” Steve looked you in the eye “Thank you. Do you have any idea where he might go first” “I would check the bank vault first. Its probably swarming with HYDRA agents though,” you replied before walking towards Fury’s car. “We could use you on our team,” Wilson called out to you. “I already have a team,” you called out before stepping into the car driving you off to your next mission.

готов соблюдать- ready to comply

они накажут вас, если нас снова поймают – they will punish you if we are caught again

тогда попробуем. но если дело доходит до нас двоих, я всегда буду выбирать вас. - Then we’ll try. But if it comes down to the two of us, I will always choose you.

tag list:

@hnnhjy @purplekitten30 @aspiring-fangirls-world @calciumcow @amazingfantasticmarvelous @truthdaze @laceyn-1201 @givemebooksorgivemedeath @spacewalker02 @jsmith509 @lizs2000 @geekysimmerthings @eternallyvenus @iamaunicorn4704 @thelostallycat @white-wolf-buckaroo @starkbelova @broco8 @caswinchester2000 @alainabooks143 @vxidnik @belledawnidk @bitch-imma-head-out

65 notes · View notes

choupichoups · 5 years

Photo

Press F (Instagram/College AU) Ch.3

Lucas swears he’s the absolute master of undetected stalking. Or: Eliott is instagram famous and Lucas is the disaster gay who accidentally likes his post.

“I think it’s about you.”

“… I don’t think so.”

“Lulu, please, the guy’s hardcore indirecting you. There’s a heart and all. Acknowledge the effort.”

“How are you so sure?”

The four of them are huddled around his phone, scrutinizing Eliott’s latest story. Half built furniture lay around in haphazard piles on the floor, two empty pizza boxes shoved in a corner near where a dangerously tilting dining table stands.

“Aren’t you meeting at 13h tomorrow? Would have been exactly 24 hours away at the time he posted that.”

Lucas still thinks the guys are reaching, but he lets it slide. He’s not quite over the whiplash of seeing Eliott’s gorgeous face closely followed by that silly raccoon photo. This man is ridiculous and Lucas can’t wait to tell him that to his face.

Assuming he’d be able to string proper sentences around Eliott anyway.

“What’s with the raccoon, though?” Arthur asks, sprawling on the floor as he balances a can of soda on his chest.

“It’s his spirit animal,” Lucas murmurs, tapping away from the story. Eliott hasn’t posted anything else. “What?” He looks up to three sets of raised eyebrows. “He mentioned it in a live once!”

“Okay, I see, so you’re really the creep in this scenario.”

His eyes roll up to the ceiling, “I am not.”

“But for real though, how do we know this guy isn’t a fuck boy?” The question comes from Basile, giving Lucas pause. He spares Basile the stinkiest side eye he can manage, one foot shooting out to kick at the boy’s leg. “Ow! I’m just looking out for you.”

“This, coming from you?”

“Hey now, I’ve learned from my mistakes.” Basile fixes the glasses sliding off his face — reading glasses that he likes to wear because he thinks they make him look smart — and slaps Lucas’ offending foot away. “I’m a whole new person from who I was yesterday.”

“Whatever. Besides, Yann’s coming with me tomorrow,” Lucas says, gazing up at his best friend with a pleading smile. “Just to walk with me to the building, right?"

“I am?”

Yes, or Lucas would die from nerves before they even make eye contact and Eliott would only find his corpse at the bridge. Nobody needs that sort of tragedy right now. “Please?” He musters up the most pitiful puppy eyes he's capable of.

Yann sighs, “I guess I am.”

“Can I come?” Arthur sits up, almost knocking his drink over in the process.

“No.”

“Why not? I wanna make sure he’s not a creep too!”

“Yann’s got it covered.”

“This isn’t fair, Lulu.”

“I wanna come too!” That one's from Basile.

Lucas snorts, “Nope.”

He pulls instagram back up because he lacks control over his own actions, as per previously established. But instead of scrolling through the feed, he snaps a photo of the lone box of pizza in arm’s reach of their wonky circle.

They sit around on the floor arguing on instagram despite being next to each other, last slice of pizza remaining untouched.

But Lucas promptly abandons the post when he sees a new private message pop up.

srodulv What are you wearing?

“Oh my fucking god,” he says before he can stop himself. The rest of the gang perks up, throwing increasingly ludicrous questions at him all at once. “Wait, shut up, shut up.” He waves his arms at them, playfully shoving Arthur off when the other boy tries for a glimpse at his screen.

“Is it Eliott?” Yann asks, obviously trying to be the level headed one of the four.

“Yeah,” he manages to squeak out, thoroughly distracted.

srodulv Tomorrow I mean :)

lucallemant Stop that

srodulv What? I didn’t do anything

lucallemant I swear to god Why do you wanna know

srodulv So I can see you from afar and sneak up on you

lucallemant ??

srodulv It’ll be cute

lucallemant lol stop that

srodulv What if I can’t find you?

lucallemant Then I’ll find you I can sneak up on you instead Cause I know exactly what you’re wearing

srodulv Why? Cause you’ll be stalking me again?

lucallemant No Cause you wear the same thing everyday

srodulv I do not

lucallemant Yes you do

srodulv I don’t! It’s just my jacket

lucallemant Okay

srodulv What okay?

lucallemant Okay :)

srodulv Lucas

lucallemant :)

He looks up after noticing the silence around him, finding Yann’s dead stare, Basile’s open mouthed one, and Arthur’s— well, Arthur’s got the last piece of pizza stuffed in his mouth. “What?”

“He was smiling at his phone.” Basile turns to Yann as if Lucas isn’t sitting right there.

“Yeah,” Yann agrees. “Did you see the way he just ignored us? Not cool.”

“Bro code broken.”

Lucas rolls his eyes so hard he’s momentarily worried it’d get stuck like that forever.

srodulv So you see me enough to judge my fashion huh

lucallemant How’d you manage to turn this around in your favour

srodulv It’s an acquired skill

lucallemant Impressive

srodulv So?

lucallemant So what?

srodulv I’m not getting an answer am I?

lucallemant Smart man

His phone rings with a different tone just as he hits send, bringing Lucas out of his lovestruck cheesing quite abruptly. The name flashing on the screen has him up on his feet in a nanosecond, leaving the guys crawling around picking on Arthur for consuming their current source of entertainment.

“Where you goin’?” Arthur calls out as Lucas moves away.

“Gotta take this.” He gestures at his phone then points to the balcony where he’s headed. “Hey, Marie, what’s up?”

“Afternoon, Lucas. How are you?”

“Good, good. Is everything alright?”

“Yes! Your mother’s actually the one who asked me to call. She just can’t find her phone,” Marie chuckles from the other line. “But she wants to ask if you have any free time at all today? We’re due for a little fresh air ourselves.”

“Okay, what time?”

“We’re thinking of heading out in an hour? We can meet you at the bus stop one block off the clinic.”

“Yeah, sure. That sounds good.”

“Okay, I’ll bring Champ.”

“Yes!” He jumps a little, running back to where the guys are still spread out on the floor.

Marie laughs, “I see who you’re most excited to meet.”

“Don’t tell mama.” He laughs along, mumbling his goodbyes before hanging up. “Hey, morons, I gotta go.”

“But we haven’t built my bed yet!” Basile sits up, looking genuinely disappointed.

“Sleep on the floor.” Lucas smiles to soften his words, moving closer to clap their hands together. “Sorry guys, mama wants to hang out.”

When Lucas gets to Yann, the other boy stands with him. “I’m going with Lucas, see you guys.”

“Oh okay.” Basile turns to Arthur then. “You’re staying right?” To which Arthur agrees only if they buy another box of pizza.

“You don’t have to,” Lucas says softly when they get to the door.

“Nah, let’s go. I haven’t come with you to visit in a while.” Yann smiles down at him, giving him a gentle pat on the back. God, he loves this guy.

One o’clock in the morning finds Lucas cramming for an essay he’s completely forgotten is due the next day. Well, today now actually. This is why he has a problem with professors assigning things months in advance— he puts it off so much so that the excessively early due date warning causes more harm than good.

He’s right about to pull his hair out in frustration after writing and deleting and rewriting the same fucking paragraph for the fifth time when his phone, left open to review the notes Imane had sent him, brightens slightly to alert him with a message from Eliott.

srodulv Can I ask you something?

Lucas briefly entertains the notion of telling him to go the fuck to sleep but that would be very hypocritical of him.

lucallemant Yeah

srodulv I mean, you don’t have to answer If you don’t want to

lucallemant Okay What is it?

He turns away from his laptop, sliding off his desk chair and onto the floor. Eliott’s taking a while to answer, which allows Lucas’ bitch of a brain to formulate unpleasant thoughts as to where this conversation’s going.

Too antsy now to stay on the floor, he drags himself up and towards the bed, wrapping himself completely in the blankets as he waits it out. By the time Eliott actually sends something, Lucas’s already shivering from the nerves.

srodulv The guy you were with today The one you post about a lot Who is he?

Lucas exhales a huge breath. And then he reads the messages again.

Rereads them over and over.

“Shut the fuck up,” he whispers to himself. “No,” he continues, letting out a loud laugh before slapping a hand over his mouth, conscious of Yann sleeping next door.

Which. Yann. Is Eliott—

He throws his phone to the foot of the bed, needing to bury his entire self in the blankets to suppress a scream. Lucas allows himself a little flail. Just a tiny bit, the movement’s barely even visible. An arm shoots out from the blanket lump a minute later, feeling around for the discarded phone before his head pops back out as well. He must have taken too long answer because Eliott types up another message.

srodulv You really don’t have to tell me, it’s fine

lucallemant Eliott That’s my best friend

He bites his bottom lip, adding a cheeky afterthought.

lucallemant Don’t worry

srodulv Ah, okay Now I won’t

lucallemant You were worried?

srodulv Yes

Fuck, Lucas thinks, his heart’s going to burst out of his chest at this point.

lucallemant Stop that

srodulv What? Who gets a dog and goes on champagne dates with their best friend?

lucallemant Lol Champagne is the dog That’s her name

srodulv OH

lucallemant Yup and we were with my mom and her friend too so

srodulv Oh

lucallemant You all good now?

srodulv :)

lucallemant Weirdo

srodulv This weirdo can’t wait til 13h

lucallemant Haha go to sleep Eliott

srodulv You too, Lucas Sweet dreams

Lucas flops down on the bed, face first. Feelings are so exhausting.

#skam france #elu #elu insta au #there's no painful clip to offset #but have some extra happiness either way #fictag

1K notes · View notes